Chapter Eleven
The next several nights were not as cold as it had been the night Angus had wrapped himself around Lillianna to keep her warm. Thank God for the increased temperature, because despite how hard Angus fought his yearning for Lillianna, it did not wane. If anything, it grew with each leg of their journey. They were another day away from Sheffield, the next village, and from there, they’d only have three more villages to pass through until they reached Ettrick Forest.
Lillianna had elected to ride with Grant each day, and Angus had let her, but he’d also speared Grant with a look that said if the man touched her in any way other than to hold her on the horse, Angus would cut off his hands. Grant had proven more than honorable, with only one joking comment that if her thighs became too chafed again, he would personally rub Angus’s salve on her. Angus had not had to do a thing or say a word to put Grant in his place, though. Lillianna had brought her dagger to Grant’s groin herself, and in the sweetest voice, she promised to relieve him of his bollocks the next time he made a lurid comment like that. Angus had never been prouder, and Grant had apologized profusely and said he’d clearly been among his warriors too long and had forgotten his manners.
At night, Lillianna slept on Angus’s blanket, wrapped in his plaid. He pretended to fall asleep immediately, but the moment her breathing turned deep and even, he’d open his eyes and watch her sleep. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. The most tempting, too. His body ached. It was almost as if he was torturing himself by watching her, but he could not seem to stop. He’d never seen a woman sleep before. Hell, he’d never stayed the night with a woman, and neither he nor they had ever had any interest in doing so. That was the beauty of those relationships. As for Isla, they’d never slept the night together, either. Their clans had been enemies, and his relationship with her had been forbidden. They’d only had brief snatches of time together. Sometimes, when he thought back on those days so many years ago, he wondered if he’d got entangled with Isla less because of love and more because his father had forbidden it, and Angus had been young, stubborn, and foolish. He could not recall Isla making his chest feel the way Lillianna did, and he’d never even joined with Lillianna. They did not even have any sort of relationship, really, other than protector and protected.
On the fifth day of their journey, they rose early, as they did every day, and Angus and Lillianna made their way to the riverbank. They trod through thick mud, as it had rained continuously for the past two days and the ground was drenched. Angus eyed the deep, fast-moving river and the thick brush that hung over the water.
He looked at the ground to his right and picked up a long, thick, sturdy stick. “Dunnae wade far, and poke down with this stick before ye step forward, to make certain ye’re nae taken by surprise and fall off a steep incline. In that heavy gown, ye’d find it hard to regain the surface.”
She nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
Angus turned his back so she could wade into the river and wash herself. The lass was very particular about being clean, which was likely why she smelled so very good.
Though he did not like the fast movement of the river this day, he forced himself to keep his back to her, as much for her privacy as his sanity. She was a smart lass and would be careful, and seeing her completely clothed was temptation enough. If he got a glimpse of bare legs or her dress loosened for her to wash her chest, well, that would be torture. So when Lillianna yelped, Angus flinched but he did not turn around. Instead, he called out, “Are ye all right?”
“Yes,” she replied. “The water is freezing. I’ll not be long.”
He got a mental picture of her lovely, perfect skin covered with gooseflesh, and then he imagined all the ways he could warm her. He groaned, but the sound of his torment was muffled by another yelp.
“What is it, lass? Too cold for ye?”
When silence greeted him, his protective instincts roared to life. He swiveled around to find her, but she was nowhere to be seen. And then her head popped up down the river for one brief moment before she went under again. A black fright swept through him as he yanked off his boots and splashed into the water. The frigid temperature snatched his breath. If it was cold to him, it had to be near unbearable to Lillianna. How long could she survive in this freezing water?
Ten steps in, the slimy ground beneath his feet gave way, and he started to swim. His heart pounded viciously, causing his blood to roar in his ears. He cut through the water, feeling as if he was swimming for his life, but it was her life he was swimming for. He scanned the distance and saw her head pop up again, but it disappeared more quickly than the time before. She was closer to him now, though, and that gave him great hope.
He concentrated all his determination, all his will, on reaching her, so when she next came up, coughing, his fingertips grazed her, but she was just out of his grasp. His lungs burned with the effort, but he’d die before he quit trying to save her. He surged forward just as she surfaced again, but it was her back that appeared, not her head, and dread, which felt far too much like what he’d felt before discovering his father was dead, filled him. He caught her by her shoulder and held on tight as the water carried them forward at a clipped pace.
He allowed the water to move them for a moment as he pulled her to him, flipped onto his back, and positioned her on hers to slide his arm around her waist. Her head lolled backward, and anguish nearly choked him. He glanced to his right toward the riverbank. His greatest hope to save her was to get her to dry ground and get the water from her lungs. He’d done such a thing once before, so he knew saving her had something to do with getting the water out of her lungs. Once he got the water out, the next worry would be the cold.
Roaring his anger at fate, he swam sideways toward the trees that hung over the river, and when he got near enough to one that was nearly in the water, he grabbed for it. He was pushed past but managed to hold on to the branch and Lillianna at the same time. His arms burned with the strain. Gritting his teeth, he pulled them forward until he was in the thick of overhanging limbs. He gripped her tightly to him, found purchase with his feet against the tangle of tree roots under the water, and slowly climbed them out of the water and onto the bank. He collapsed, bringing her down upon him, then taking a deep breath to calm his thoughts so he could methodically decide what to do next, he rolled her to the ground and onto her back.
He scrambled to his knees beside her and slid one hand under her neck while cupping her chin with the other, and then he sealed his mouth over hers and blew his breath into her, willing her to live. He did this several times, and when she did not respond, his control snapped, and he pressed hard against her chest, desperate to get the water out. Still, she lay unmoving, white, clammy, and cold.
“Ye kinnae die, damn ye,” he cursed down at her. “Ye are too amazing to die. Dunnae let go, do ye hear me?” he roared and bent down to blow into her mouth again. He came up panting after a moment and began to press on her chest again as he yelled at her. “Dunnae be weak. Hold on! Come back to me. I’ll protect ye. I vow I will. I’ll protect ye with my life, and I’ll nae ever let harm come to ye again!” When she continued to lie there lifelessly, he bellowed his grief. He blew into her mouth once more, pulling away only when bright silver spots appeared in his vision. “Lillianna de Burgh, I thought ye stronger than this,” he growled, pushing once more on her chest.
Suddenly, she began to cough. Water spurted out of her mouth, and her eyes fluttered open, locking on him. He gathered her into his arms, forgetting the vow he’d made about not touching her intimately again, and he pressed his hand to her head and into the cradle of his chest. He wrapped his arm around her back, needing to feel her breathing, to assure himself she was alive.
His heart beat so hard his chest ached, and after a moment, her hands came around his back, and she clung to him as much as he held her to him. That she had the strength to do so filled him with such relief he wanted to weep like a bairn.
“Did you curse at me?” she asked, amusement in her voice. The warmth of her breath washed over his neck. He felt joy like he’d never known. It scared him, but not enough to make him release her.
“Aye,” he replied. “Ye were trying to die, and I could nae let that happen.” When she shivered, he wrapped his arms tighter around her. “I vow, ye make keeping ye safe difficult, but I’ll be damned if I let harm come to ye again.”
Angus’s words sparked something in Lillianna’s head. She heard his voice speaking in her mind, yet she could see his lips, which were not moving. I’ll protect ye with my life, and I’ll nae ever let harm come to ye! He’d said those words. She was certain of it. He’d risked his own life to save her, and then he’d brought her back to life. She froze as her senses and her awareness of him leaped to life. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest as gratitude, awe, and his nearness kindled a flame within her that she’d only ever felt with him.
She was drawn to him certainly, yet she sensed it could be more, so much more. And within her, the desire to allow it to blossom made her ache. Could she truly trust him? If she gave into what he was making her feel, would it be the biggest mistake of her life as it had been for her mother and her grandmother? She didn’t have the answers, not yet anyway, but she knew one thing for certain, she wanted him to kiss her as he had before. She needed to feel alive after having been so close to death yet again.
She looked up at him, and their eyes locked. Their breathing came in unison. Everything vanished but him, and the emotions swelling within her destroyed whatever fear she had of kissing him. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was watching her, yet if she asked him to kiss her would he deny her?
“Angus,” she began, licking lips that felt suddenly dry. Before she could form the rest of her sentence, he gave a growl, and then his mouth claimed hers. One hand came to the small of her back and the other fisted in her hair to bring her closer to him. His tongue breached her mouth, and she welcomed the invasion, meeting the intensity of his kiss with her own desperation.
Their tongues twined and retreated, and his kiss became demanding, sending the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl. He broke the kiss, leaving her mouth burning with fire and a protest on her lips. Yet, before she could voice it, his lips came to her neck and his hands slid across her belly. He worked magic across her skin with his mouth, and his light touch up her stomach to her breast made something in her surge at the intimacy of his touch. His fingers brushed over her hard buds, and her breasts grew instantly heavy and her core tightened almost painfully. Her heartbeat throbbed in her ears as his fingers found her buds again and circled them once, twice, sending dizzying currents of need through her.
“Angus,” she moaned, delving her hands into his hair and tugging him closer. She didn’t know what she wanted, yet she knew she wanted something that only he could give.
His answer was to slip his fingers under the shoulders of her gown and pull the wet material down until her breasts, hidden only by her undergarments now, spilled out from her gown. She should be shocked, she knew. She should stop him, certainly. But she was too far gone, too desperate with the need to feel his hands on her bare skin to care what danger she was courting.
Cool air whispered across her breasts as he pulled her underclothing down with another yank, and then his mouth, hot and seeking, came to her right breast and took her into his warmth. His tongue swirled around her bud, and then he suckled her in a way that forced a scream of pleasure from her lips. She arched toward him, needing more, wanting more, feeling she would die without more. And he gave it with long, luxurious pulls of his mouth and teasing, tempting slides of his tongue over her sensitive flesh.
His hands settled on her outer thighs then moved lower, her soaking skirt being pulled up over her hot skin, and then her hands were on his aiding him. She didn’t care about anything, not even the dull ache from her wounds, but the sensations he was creating for her. He was suddenly hovering over her, and she was on her back, imprisoned by her growing arousal. He caught her left breast with his mouth this time and flicked his tongue against her hardened nipple as he gently parted her thighs fully, and then his body pressed against hers, flesh to flesh, man to woman. She felt the full length of his desire against her stomach, and she froze, the reality of what they were doing crashing in around her.
She put a hand to his chest, her breaths ragged, her chest heaving, and a tormented groan escaped him as he rolled off her and onto his back beside her. “Christ,” he muttered, the word raw. “Christ,” he said again, the word now drenched in self-loathing that stole the last bit of the warmth their passion had lent her. A chill swept her body as she drew her undergarments and then her gown up over her breasts. The dull ache of her wounds became more pressing, but she shoved the pain away, more concerned with Angus. She wanted to look at him, but she feared doing so. What must he think of her? What had she been thinking?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I did nae have a right to touch ye so, but I wanted it. I want ye so damn much that I lost my good sense.”
She’d lost hers as well, and she feared he was on the verge of stealing her heart, whether he wanted it or not, whether she wished it or not.