He heard nothing behind him, and turned. Aftyn still stood where he’d left her, staring off into space, her expression unguarded. Worried, if the crease between her brows was to be believed. But not fearful. Not yet.
For a moment, he saw the flames lick around her again. He shook his head and started back up the hill. “Let me escort ye home, lass.” It was the least he could do.
“I should check on Robena before I go.” She actually took a step back toward the croft.
“Ye should leave her to Agatha for now,” he told her. “She’ll be better off the sooner everyone leaves her be and lets her rest.”
“I could wait for Colin.”
Jamie extended a hand. “Colin will see for himself how she fares. Ye dinna need to tell him. Come.”
She eyed him, then shrugged, made her way the dozen steps he’d taken down the hill and reached him. Her hips, her stride, made him aware of the number of steps without counting them. Only when she stood just above him did he notice she gazed directly into his face, not up as most lasses did. She could be no more than a hand’s width shorter than he.
His gaze fell to her lips, full and moist. Had she been kissed? Surely some man must have given in to the urge filling him now to touch them with his, to part them and explore her mouth’s secret recess. To see if her cheek, her throat, tasted as creamy as they looked.
Her eyes, blue as spring bluebells, glinted as though she had a secret. What did she know, or think she knew?
He tried not to frown at the thought, but saw when Aftyn noted the crease between his brows. Hers mirrored his. “What?”
Aftyn’s troubles were compounded beyond anything she could imagine. But he could. He wished he had not been in Edinburgh that day.
Guilt made him press his lips together rather than seek oblivion in her kiss, as he wanted to do. “How long have ye lived here?”
“I was born here. My father fought with the king’s men at Flodden Field. He was one of the few who survived that day. My mother, as Agatha so charmingly put it, taught me the little I ken of healing before she died. What of ye?”
“My parents met when my mother, a healer, arrived with an army invading a nearby clan my da visited, nearly three years after Flodden. My father was briefly a prisoner. He took her with him when he escaped back to my clan’s stronghold, the Aerie. I was born the next year, one of triplets.” He took her arm and started down the hill, Aftyn beside him.
“Triplets! All survived?”
“Aye, and twins two years later, all hale and troublesome.”
“So we are of an age, ye and I.”
“Close enough.” Close enough for what? A family? Bairns of their own? His imaginings were getting out of control.
The track they walked entered a small wood. They were as alone as they ever would be. He took her arm and turned her to face him. “I need to say something… do something…”
A puzzled frown creased Aftyn’s brow. “Ye already apologized, and offered to stay to protect me. What more?”
Jamie was done waiting. He bent his head, cradled her cheek in one hand, and kissed her.
Aftyn froze, then leaned away, her gaze locked with his, eyes wide and dark.
Jamie had a moment to fear she would slap him or pull out of his embrace and run away. Instead, she took a breath, then kissed him back.
“Lass, I…”
“Later, Jamie,” she murmured. Her lips parted, allowing him access to deepen the kiss. She tasted sweet, womanly, and even more enticing than he'd imagined during those lonely, sleepless nights he'd spent since he first saw her. He wrapped her in his arms and tangled his tongue with hers. She didn’t retreat, but met him, kiss for kiss. Her tongue teased his lips, then she sucked his lower lip between her teeth and nipped it. Hot blood headed downward, filling his cock and making him groan, his body as full and hard as he had ever been.
He slid his hands down her back and gripped her waist, pulling her tighter against him. Her answering moan filled his mouth. He nearly came.
Her fingers raked through his hair, then down his throat and into the top of his tunic. His heart beat so hard against his ribs he was certain she could feel his chest pulse. He put her back against a smooth-barked tree, afraid he’d drop her, then moved his kiss from her lips to her cheek, the shell of her ear, and down her throat.
She arched against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, whimpering with need.
Could he take her? Would she stop him? She wanted him, too. Even here, against a tree in the woods, where anyone might happen by. Like Agatha.
He lifted his head and stilled. “Aftyn, nay. I canna do this to ye.”
