Page 18 of Highlander’s Quest of Desire

Bruce obliged and turned so his back faced her. He felt her fingers on his skin. The arousal between his legs twitched. He clutched his hands into fists to avoid grabbing her and kissing her delectable lips. She was quite beautiful, and when her eyes sparkled with rage and annoyance she looked doubly enticing.

What was wrong with him? How could he think such impure thoughts for a woman who only had noble intentions? This proved him right - he did not deserve to wear the crown.

"Does it sting?" she asked.

"Aye," he said, not talking about his wound.

"That'd be the mint," she said, her voice so close to his ears he could feel her warm breath on his shoulder. It was too much to bear. "It'll wear off soon. But donnae scratch if it itches. That'll only make things worse, and we donnae want that."

"Aye," Bruce said, his response ragged and strained.

"Are ye sure yer alright?" she asked, coming to sit in front of him. She touched his brow to check if he was feverish. Her bodice hung loose in front of him, and he could see the sweet valley between her breasts. This was torture!

"Aye," he said gruffly, pulling away from her and averting his gaze. "I just need to get some rest."

"Aye," Elspeth said, but she still looked unsure. "I'll let the wound breathe for now. We'll tie it up before we leave. Try and get some sleep. It's as important for ye to heal as any medicine or herb."

Bruce breathed in and out of his nose and calmed himself down. Visions of Elspeth naked in the stream plagued him, hair flowing about her barely covering her nakedness. While he struggled with these visions he fell into a restless sleep.

He dreamt that he was back in Dunnottar castle.

It was night, and he was following Elspeth. She was dripping stream water along the halls. He was trying to catch her, but she laughed and hopped out of his grasp.

She led him to his chamber where she stood still and let him hold her. Her skin was like silk but alive. Every soft curve of her was warm and awoke to his touch. Her breasts filled the palm of his hands, and when he squeezed them she hissed and bit her lower lip, her hands slipping between his legs.

The very next moment he was lying on his bed while she kissed his neck. "I love ye, Bruce, my Laird, my Liege, my King." And she sat up and impaled herself on his manhood, sheathing him inside her heat. Bruce gripped her hips and thrust deeper within as she rocked back and forth, her breasts swelling and jouncing, as she reached the peak of her pleasure.

Bruce was nearing his climax, his hands feasting on her flesh, his eyes feasting on her beauty.

"Sire!" Leo burst into the room. "There's an English spy in the castle!"

"Leo!" Bruce raged. "Get out!"

"Yer life is in danger, my Laird!"

"Aye," Elspeth laughed, pushing down in a mighty thrust and pulling a dagger from under the sheets. "Yer life is in danger!" And she plunged the blade deep in his chest.

Bruce startled awake. The only sound he heard for the first two minutes was the thundering of his heart in his ears. Then the call of the crows penetrated his consciousness. The sun hung low in the sky. He had slept a good four hours.

He propped himself up on an elbow to see where Elspeth was. She was sleeping by her saddle, her brow smooth, her face peaceful. She looked innocent and blameless, but Bruce no longer trusted that. The dream had rankled him. He wasn't the suspicious kind and didn't put much stock in dreams and their portents as most people did, but he couldn't deny the feeling it had dragged up. It was a feeling that had irked him, but he had let it slide as other more important things had crowded the forefront of his mind.

Why was she here? She had said some pretty things and convinced him she was sincere, but she had never given a true explanation of what had driven her to stake her reputation and her clans' safety to accompany Bruce on his journey. Looking at them now they were just hollow words. Why should he trust them to be true?

She had been a minor participant in clan gatherings, out of the way and out of sight, never doing anything to suggest she had a backbone or confidence to make her way in the world. So, why this sudden change? Why now?

Was she really a Scottish loyalist, or was she an English spy; certain of her and her clan’s pardon to risk coming with him?

Bruce did not know at this point. But he would make sure he found out.