Jennet eased beneath the blanket, trying hard not to disturb Hacon. While she fully intended to give him back some of what he had been handing out to her for so long, she did not think it fair to wake him up to do so. He was, after all, wounded and in pain. In fact, perhaps she should not be near him at all. But just as she started to get up, intending to sleep alone, he slipped an arm around her waist and held her in place.
“I tried not to wake you,” she murmured.
“Ye didnae. I wasnae asleep, merely resting. The pain is still too strong to allow me to sleep often or easy.” He nuzzled his face in her hair. “Where is Murdoc?”
“With Ranald. Your nephew felt that if there was trouble, ye would be in no shape to protect two people. As he said—at least I can run away. And I can do that even faster without Murdoc. Poor Ranald seems to have the care of the bairn more and more often. I pray it willnae cause him trouble amongst the men.”
“Nay. They all see the bairn as another piece of my plunder that he must protect. They might wonder why I should trouble myself with the babe, but, since I do, they see it as sensible to keep him safe.”
“Are ye sure of that? ’Tis the truth?” She inwardly cursed the moment the words left her mouth, for his one lie did not really give her the right to question everything he said. It occurred to her that her hurt and disappointment over the lie might well go a lot deeper than she had realized or wished to admit.
“Aye, ’tis the truth.” He frowned at the back of her head. “Why should I lie?”
“Why, indeed. I but thought ye might be trying to ease my worry o’er Ranald.”
“Ye need not worry. There are few who question his skill with a sword. I made certain his battle and victory o’er that muckle great Englishmon was heard far and wide.”
Nodding, she nestled closer to him, bringing her backside up against his groin. His arousal was immediate and very evident. She had to fight to hide her grin.
Such quick results were not only amusing but also exciting. Hacon was wounded and in pain, yet he still wanted her. She could not help finding that thought flattering, even seductive.
“Weel.” Hacon cleared his throat, but it did little to take the huskiness from his voice. “We will be leaving here soon.”
“The battle is over?” She turned to look at him, moving carefully and deliberately so that her body gently rubbed against his. “Ripon has surrendered?”
“Most of the townspeople were sheltered within the minster. They didnae surrender, they simply bought a year’s truce.”
“Bought a truce?” She placed one hand upon his chest, and was surprised to realize how rapidly his heart was beating. “Ye mean a fee to hold back slaughter for a while.”
“’Tis a fair deal and done more often than ye might suspect. We move on farther south, toward Knaresborough, soon. I think we willnae go much deeper into England but turn toward home after that. While ’tis true we havenae seen the English army, there is no reason to keep tempting fate.”
She kept her gaze upon his face while idly smoothing her hand over his chest. His look of desire was not consistent with his calm description of the fall of Ripon. He was fully aware of the game she played. Within that expression of awareness was the hint of amusement and annoyance. Jennet discovered she really did not care that he had guessed her ploy. She only wondered how much he would tolerate before he actually spoke out.
“If we are to set out again, I had best get some sleep,” she murmured, feigning a yawn. “Is there anything ye wish ere I seek the rest I will need?” She found it a real challenge not to laugh at the look he gave her. “Your bandages arenae too tight?” She slowly, lightly traced the one on his thigh with her fingertips and watched the clear blue of his eyes grow darker with desire.
“Just a wee kiss ere ye seek your rest,” he drawled. “’Tis the least ye can do for a poor, tormented mon.”
Cupping his face in her hands, she placed her lips close to his. “Do your wounds pain ye a great deal?”
“’Twasnae my wounds I was thinking on,” he muttered.
“Nay? And yesoclose to death and all.” She nearly gasped, more with delight than surprise, when he slowly, enticingly rubbed his groin against hers.
“I feel exceedingly alive, my troublesome booty. Aye, fair throbbing with it.”
Deciding that was enough of that, she kissed him. Using all the knowledge she had gained from him since being dragged from Berwick, she gave him a seductive, inviting kiss, one that promised all she had so far denied him. When she ended the embrace she was pleased to see how heavily he was breathing. She quickly turned away from him to hide that she suffered the same affliction.
As she cuddled up to him, he softly groaned. She was inclined to do the same when he eased his arm about her waist and cupped her breast in his hand. Carefully, she removed the hand, but a moment later he slipped it back. She gave a mock sigh of exasperation.
Jennet realized she was playing with a two-edged sword, but she would not quit. She had been continuously tempted for two months, had continuously refused the enticing delights he offered. Now he would learn how that felt. Now, with her actions, she would say aye, but wounded as he was, he would be unable to accept the blatant invitation. However, she mused as she tried to ignore the desire tautening her body, when he was healed and able she would not make him chase her very far before she let him catch her.
Chapter Eight
Jennet bit back a smile when she heard Hacon softly groan, then curse. In reply she gave a sleepy murmur and wriggled her backside against his groin. The hard evidence of his arousal excited her. Ever since Ripon she had played this game and now, nearly two weeks later, she knew Hacon would soon be answering her blatant invitation. His stitches would be taken out today. That thought only added to her enjoyment. All the while she had teased him she had fed her own desires. She was more than ready to give him what he wanted.
When he began to slide his hand up her rib cage toward her breasts, she turned onto her stomach. His muttered imprecations made her grin. For a moment she allowed him to caress her back and derriere, then feigned waking up. She sat up, yawned, and stretched, purposely arching her back so that her breasts were thrust outward. Hacon reached out for her and, pretending she did not see his hand, she stood up. Her hands on her hips, she smiled sweetly at him.
“Ye look hale and hearty this morning,” she said.
