“Aye, mayhaps safer, for we have the camp between us and Scotland’s border.” He eased the straps of her chemise from her slim shoulders. “The enemy we need watch for willnae come from Scotland. They would have to ride over Douglas’s army to get to us. So, loving, we may gift ourselves with the time to savor the pleasure ye seek of me.”
Jennet opened her mouth to say she sought a great deal more than pleasure, but just then he touched his lips to her breast and delight stole her words. She threaded her fingers through his thick hair to hold him close as he lathed and suckled at her breasts. It had been too long since she had enjoyed the desire they shared. She gave herself over to it completely, allowing it to clear all thought from her mind and all painful confusion from her heart.
She trembled with the strength of her need as he slowly eased her chemise down her body, following its descent with soft, tantalizing kisses. The blind euphoria she was sinking into was briefly disrupted when he knelt before her, cupped her backside in his strong hands, and placed a kiss upon the soft tangle of curls that masked her womanhood. She stepped back, shocked over such intimacy, but he did not allow her to retreat. With but a few strokes of his tongue, he banished her concern. The delight he gifted her with soon had her brazenly welcoming his intimate kisses.
When she felt the culmination of her passion at hand, she cried out, expressing her need to have their bodies joined. He ignored her request, taking her to the heights with his searing tongue. She buckled slightly as her release shuddered through her but he held her in place. Even as her passion ebbed he was stirring it to life again. When her need was fully renewed, she barely whispered his name, then gasped with surprise and pure ecstasy as, still kneeling before her, he lowered her body onto his.
The new position caused her to hesitate for only an instant. Her need for him was too pressing. When she cried out, seized by her release, he was with her. He held her down, burying himself deep within her quickening body as his seed flowed into her. It was a while before she realized that the man she clung to was still dressed.
“Ye didnae take your clothes off,” she murmured as he slightly eased their intimate embrace and settled himself more comfortably on the mossy ground.
“Weel, I freed what was needed.”
“Clever mon.” She began to feel a little embarrassed as the memory of what they had just done settled in her mind. “Is that allowed by the Church?” she asked in a somewhat meek voice, then grimaced as she felt his chest tremble with silent laughter beneath her cheek. “I but wished to ken how big a penance I may have to pay.”
“I dinnae think ’twill be a verra big one. Then, too, ye could do as I do.”
“Aye? And what is that?”
“Dinnae confess it. Keep it twixt ye and God. S’truth, I dinnae think the priests really care to hear about it.” He set her aside and stood up. “Now, ye wait here. I will be back in but a few moments.” After adjusting his attire, he strode off.
Jennet slipped her chemise back on. Shrugging, she tugged on the rest of her clothes, then sat down to wait for him. As she combed her hair with her fingers, she thought about the brief conversation she had had with Elizabeth, struggling yet again to set some firm, clear course for herself.
She envied Elizabeth’s certainty. Then again, Elizabeth’s path was much smoother than her own. Robert was a poor man who could choose any wife he pleased. All Elizabeth had to do was make certain she was the one he chose.
Hacon was not so free. He had responsibilities to his family and to the people who now gathered into a clan under his leadership. When Hacon chose a wife, he must consider far more than his own wants. He needed to look for alliances, a gain of power and protection, a fortune. She had none of those things to offer and never would. Although her bloodline was good, her birth of sufficient quality to suit a man of Hacon’s breeding, she had nothing else to give him. Making him want her as his mate was not enough. In truth, she could not help but wonder if it would be somewhat unfair to him. She knew the torment of wanting what one could not have, and she did not wish to inflict that torment on him.
Sitting down, she plucked viciously at the mossy carpet beneath her. There was the still-unanswered question of whether she could truly find happiness with a knight. Each time she decided that Hacon was not a bad man, she saw him return from battle, the blood of others upon his sword and armor.
She cursed. “Give it up, Jennet, ye great fool. There is no answer. Best ye sit and let the fates take you where they will.”
“Do ye often talk to yourself?”
She jumped in surprise, then scowled at Hacon, who calmly sat down beside her. “Ye shouldnae creep about so,” she admonished.
“I didnae realize I was,” he murmured as he set their food out. “Does something trouble you?”
“Nay.” She helped herself to some lamb and tried not to recall that it was stolen. “’Tis naught.”
“I wondered if ye might be worried o’er seeing your kinsmen. Ye didnae seem as pleased about visiting them as I thought ye would be.” He watched her closely as he began to eat.
“Mayhaps I dinnae truly wish to ken the truth about my father’s fate. Sometimes ’tis best not kenning.” She took a drink from his wineskin. “A shame ye werenae at Perth,” she murmured, studying him surrepititiously. “Ye might have seen enough to either give me hope or take it away. ’Twould ease this uncertainty.”
“Aye, but if I had been there, ye could weel blame me if your father was murdered.”
“Nay, I ken the mon ye are weel enough to feel certain ye would ne’er take part in such a slaughter.”
Hacon looked away, unable to hold her gaze. Here was the chance to confess his lie, but he lacked the courage. It was easy to speak of forgiveness when one did not believe there was anything to forgive. Would she feel so confident in her judgment of him if he admitted to being there? He dared not take that chance, not when the one they wondered about was her father. Before he confessed, he needed to know exactly what had befallen the man.
“Ye flatter me, lass,” he murmured.
“And that is why ye cannae look at me?”
Regaining his composure, he turned to smile at her. “Aye. I am unused to such kind words.”
“Ho, such accolades flow your way constantly.”
“Ah, but ne’er from such a sweet, lovely mouth.” He reached out to cup her chin in his hand.
