When he felt the pulse of her release begin and her slender body bow up slightly, Artan fixed his gaze on her face. She clutched his arms as she cried out his name, and he did not think he had ever seen anything as beautiful as Cecily in the throes of her release. The sound of his name upon her lips as she reached that pinnacle was sweet music to his ears. He kissed her as he moved against her thigh and found his own release, not really surprised when he slumped against her weak from the strength of it. He hoped he did not have to wait too long before he could savor that bliss while buried deep inside her lithe body. Although if he could find such pleasure just playing a lad’s love games with her, full consummation would probably kill him, he thought and grinned against her neck. Then he remembered what he had to do now and his good humor swiftly fled.
Cecily came to her senses very slowly, reluctant to leave the haze of a lingering pleasure. She was astonished that the man now idly nuzzling her breasts could make her feel such incredible things, such wild pleasure. Her whole body still tingled from the waves of pure delight that had swept through her. She knew she ought to be mortally ashamed or, at the very least, embarrassed, but she was too sated to worry about what she had allowed him to do. In truth, all she could think of as she closed her eyes was just when they could do this again.
It was not until she felt Artan tug her up into a seated position that Cecily realized she had fallen asleep and she inwardly cursed. She hoped it had been only a very short sleep, for she did not want to lose any of the meager time she could steal with Sir Artan. She was disappointed to see that he had donned his shirt. He had a beautiful chest, all sleek, hard muscle and dark skin, she thought with an inner sigh of pleasure. When he tugged up her bodice and retied her laces she blushed a little, wondering just how long she had lain there with her breasts exposed. She shifted a little and realized he had also put her braies back on and she almost frowned. Had she slept so long that their tryst was already over?
Then she realized that Artan had never put himself inside her. Cecily did not know all that much about the intimacies a man and woman could share, but she did know that that long, thick part of him he had been rubbing against her thigh was supposed to go where his fingers had been. Considering all the other intimacies they had shared, she did not understand why he had not done that. She had come to the burn ready and willing to give him her innocence and gladly suffer whatever consequences there were for doing so. The fact that Artan had not taken her maidenhead did not please her as she thought it ought to. In fact, she felt a growing unease, a strengthening certainty that something was wrong.
“Artan, ye didnae finish,” she said softly, and felt even more uneasy at the closed look upon his face.
“Aye, I did,” he replied as he helped her stand up and tugged her into his arms.
The embrace lacked the warmth of the others they had shared and Cecily felt her anxiety increase. “Nay, ye didnae. Ye didnae put yourself inside me.” She was so uneasy now that speaking so bluntly did not even bother her.
Why she was pursuing this she did not know. Considering the length and width of what he had been rubbing against her leg, she ought to be very pleased that he had not attempted to put it inside her. She was not pleased, however. She actually felt distinctly cheated.
“Ye are betrothed, lass.”
“I was aware of that when I came here. As were ye when ye asked me to.”
“I dinnae want ye to suffer for meeting with me.”
“’Tis my choice, aye? If ye didnae want to, then why did ye ask me here?”
“Oh, lass, I want to. I want to so badly I fair ache with the need. But now isnae a good time.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am about to kidnap ye.”
Cecily stared at him, gaping slightly as she struggled to make sense of his words. She was so confused and stunned, she did nothing to stop him when he pulled her hands in front of her, wrapped them in a cloth until she could not even wriggle her fingers, and then tied them securely with a surprisingly soft length of rope. It was just as she gathered the breath and the wits to speak that he tied a gag on her. He gently pushed her down until she sat on the ground; then he tied her ankles together.
As he picked up the sack of food and wine she had brought and went to tie it on his saddle, Cecily stared dumbly at her bonds. A part of her wanted desperately to believe that this was all a dream, that she was actually still wrapped in his arms and resting after their lovemaking. The greater part of her, the one shaking itself free from shock and amazement, was not so deluded.
It had all been a lie, she realized. He had not drawn her here because he had any feelings for her or because he lusted after her. He had brought her here so that he could tie her up and force her to go to Glascreag. The pain that knowledge brought her was so acute, she bent over as if to shelter her body from the blow.
She had been such a fool, a witless, silly child. The worst part was that she could not even blame it all on sweet lies and clever flatteries that had turned her head. Artan had not given her any of those. The fact that he had not, that he obviously realized she had not needed such niceties to put her at his mercy was a severe blow to her pride. Hot kisses, a handsome face, and a wretchedly mistaken belief in his honesty had lured her here.
For one brief moment she was terrified for her very life, but she wrestled that flash of panic into submission. One thing she was sure of was that this man had fostered with her uncle. Artan knew far too much about her uncle and Glascreag to have been lying about that. And despite this treachery, this betrayal, she still could not believe he was the sort of man to hurt a woman.
Clearly, he had no qualms about using a woman’s passion against her, she thought angrily. Her innocent faith in the man he had pretended to be had gotten her into this mess, but she would never be fooled by him again. That determination would do her no good at the moment, but she would cling to it, for a chance to escape him might just present itself and she wanted to be ready to take it.
“Easy now, lass,” Artan murmured in what he hoped was a calming voice as he lifted her up and set her on his horse.
He was speaking to her as if she were some nervous pet or ill-tempered horse, she thought crossly. She considered hurling herself off the horse, then scolded herself for even considering such a foolish idea. There was a very good chance that all she would accomplish was to hurt herself. About the only way such an action could harm Sir Artan was if she fell on him. Considering her somewhat small stature, she could not even be sure she could do that.
Artan mounted behind her. “Now we can remove these bonds,” he said as he untied her ankles so that she could sit astride the horse. “Just wanted to be sure ye didnae try anything foolish like running.”
It was a little late to run now, she thought crossly. The time to run had been the first time he had kissed her. In fact, she should have immediately informed her kinsmen and her betrothed about the insult. They would have tossed him out of Dunburn after beating some manners into him. But, no, she had been intrigued, delighted, and deeply stirred by his kiss, and the feeling had just grown stronger with each embrace. Just thinking of how stupid she had been made her so angry she proceeded to vilify his character, his manhood, and his ancestors.
“Now I ken that ye are a wee bit angry at this rough treatment, but ’tis only until we get away from Dunburn,” Artan said as he started to ride, eager to get out of the Lowlands.
Cecily wondered if having visions of staking a man out in the dirt and slowly gutting him could really be called beinga wee bit angry.She sincerely doubted it. She was feeling bloodthirsty and was heartily frustrated by the gag that prevented her from telling him so.
Artan could not see her eyes, but he was fairly sure that she was not simply asking for an explanation. The gag made her words impossible to understand, but the tone of them was fairly clear. For a moment after he had tied and gagged her she had looked so hurt he had almost freed her. Only the knowledge that her life was in danger kept him from doing so. Anger was better. He could deal with anger. However, just in case she was demanding why he was doing this, he decided to give her a partial explanation.
“I am taking ye to Glascreag. I couldnae wait any longer to persuade ye. Now, we have to ride hard for a while as I need to put as much distance between us and Dunburn as possible, but when we stop for a rest, I will tell ye everything.”
When he spurred his horse to a greater speed, Cecily was thrown back against his chest. She did not want to go to Glascreag. She did not want a full explanation. All she wanted was to get back to her bedchamber at Dunburn and lick her wounds. When they stopped and he untied and ungagged her, she would make that very clear to him.
