“Weel, ye have ne’er said otherwise. Whatdoye plan, then?”
Hacon shrugged, then pulled on a clean shirt. “All I have been able to think on this last week is how badly I want the lass.”
Jennet sat before the low-burning fire brushing out her hair before bedding down. She was weary of going to bed fully dressed. Her only consolation was that she now had a number of good, serviceable gowns to wear. She had almost completely smothered her guilt over making use of stolen goods.
Despite her increased wardrobe she still wished she could crawl into bed attired as she always had been before—naked or in a thin chemise. Unfortunately, living in such close quarters with so many men left her no privacy. And then there was Hacon. It was disturbing enough to sleep in his arms while fully dressed. She dared not consider the temptation of sleeping with him flesh-to-flesh.
As if conjured up by her wayward thoughts, he sat down beside her. Please, God, she silently prayed, couldnae ye make him a wee bit ugly? ’Twould give me some strength, and I sorely need some. Inwardly sighing, knowing that even a loss of his looks might not help her now, she met his steady gaze.
“I talked to Ranald,” he said, draping an arm about her shoulders when she set down her hairbrush and ignoring the way she tensed. “The other men mean to speak to him too, to let him ken he isnae alone in how he feels now that the first mon has fallen to his sword.”
“So he will find the strength to fight again.”
“Ye dinnae approve. Nay, dinnae try to deny it,” he said when she started to speak. “Do ye really think we enjoy the killing?”
“Nay, I wouldnae say that. Nor do I think it. ’Tis just that it ne’er stops. Even those who seek holy orders arenae safe. Why must men do it? ’Tis a bloody harvest and all one reaps is sorrow. Year after blood-soaked year of pain, grief, and hunger.”
He sighed. “There are many reasons for it. We dinnae want English rule, dinnae wish to be a conquered people. Some fight for plunder, some for revenge, some out of pure hate.” He shrugged.
“What are your reasons then?”
“I support the Bruce, but that isnae all of it. As I have told you, my father lost his lands. They went to a family who supported the English. Now the Bruce holds our lands. He could give them back to me if I fight weel for his cause. He has given many another land. Aye, and titles. I believe I am close now. Then Dubheilrig will belong to a Gillard again. We would be masters of our own lands once more and not simple tenants.”
She sensed he felt strongly about it, so said nothing. It was as good a reason as any for fighting. Hastily covering a yawn, she slid free of Hacon’s light hold and prepared to lie down. She gave a soft gasp of surprise when he clasped her shoulders and turned her to face him.
There was an intent look in his fine eyes that made her feel warm yet frightened. The man really did want her. She heartily wished she did not find that idea so attractive. When he brushed his lips over hers, she resisted an immediate rush of warmth. Was he meaning to take her now? Would she fight him much if he did? If the blind, hot need his kiss had stirred within her before was any example, she might forget how to say nay. It wiped the tethering wordsinright out of her mind. Rape no longer seemed a fitting description either, though he could yet prove her wrong.
“I was ready to go to sleep,” she whispered, telling herself she was not accepting his soft, nibbling kisses, just remaining still so as to not anger him while he forced his attentions upon her.
“Without giving the mon who protects ye a goodnight kiss?”
“I think Ranald is asleep already.”
“Ah, ye sore try a mon’s temper, lass. Torment him past all clear thinking.”
“I dinnae do a thing. Not a thing.”
“I ken it. Mayhaps ’tis past time for me to cease being so agreeable. Aye, I will have a kiss ere ye lie down to turn a cold back to me for another long night.” He wrapped one arm about her, cupping the back of her head in his hand. “Dinnae look so afraid, lass. ’Tis but a kiss. Naught to worry about.”
Little did he know, she thought even as he kissed her. It did frighten her some, in the way it made her feel. All resistance left her, heat and hunger flowing in to take its place. She wanted to cling to him, then realized that she already was. Her arms were tightly wrapped about his neck, and she was pressing herself as close to him as possible. As his tongue stroked the inside of her mouth, she wanted even more. Suddenly she knew exactly what he meant when he spoke of aching for her. There did not seem to be an inch of her that did not cry out with need.
As he ended the kiss, she struggled to regain some composure. Her eyes still closed, she eased her body away from his. She could sense his gaze upon her. There was some comfort in hearing that his breathing came as hard and fast as her own.
“I am going to open my eyes now,” she said carefully, once she had regained the power of speech.
“Ah, good. I had worried that ye had swooned from the pleasure of it.”
She ignored him. “And if ye are grinning, even a tiny wee grin, ye will be sorely regretting it.”
Very slowly, she opened her eyes. He was pressing his lips together very tightly. It was no good. The grin was not visible from his mouth, but it gleamed from his eyes. He knew. Knew how he made her feel, knew how hard she had to fight to say nay, and how much she ached to say aye.
“There will be no more kisses.” She moved to her side of the sheepskin and laid down.
He too laid down, then tucked her up against him. “Oh, aye, my pretty plunder, there will be more kisses. And, if I can ever find us a private place, there will be more—much, much more.”
She decided to ignore him. Argument was impossible. Perhaps her brief suspicion had been right—he did not plan rape but seduction. If that was the way of it, she was in a great deal of trouble.
Chapter 5
