Defiant (27 page)

And then he began to move inside her.

“Connor!”
She whispered his name, scarce able to believe that what had been so painful before now felt so wonderful, each slow, silky thrust stretching her, stroking that deep inner ache, awakening the hidden places inside her.

Hungry for the feel of him, she slid her hands up the sweat-slick skin of his chest, over the hard curves of his shoulders, and down the tense planes of his back, feeling his muscles shift as he drove into her, thrusting from beneath, his rhythm steady and slow, his strong arms holding her tight, his lips pressing heated kisses to her throat.

And the ache inside her grew—fierce, hot, demanding.

Without realizing it, she began to match his thrusts, her hips rocking against him of their own accord, sheathing him deeper, urging him on.

Connor groaned, thrust harder, faster. “Och, aye, Sarah, ride me!”

But she wouldn’t have been able hold still had she tried, her body seeming to know what she needed even if she did not, instinctively seeking release from this precious torment. As she strained against him, some part of her realized her behavior was not that of a lady, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was Connor and how much she wanted him, how much she needed him. “Connor, please! Help me!”

He groaned, reached down with both hands, grasped her bottom, his fingers digging into her flesh as he shifted the angle, the root of his sex now caressing the most sensitive part of her with each and every thrust, until she was breathing in ragged pants, her nails biting into his back as she fought to hold on.

The tangled rhythm of their beating hearts. Heated flesh against flesh. Salt and musk. Mingled cries and moans. The rush of breath from lungs.

It was lovers’ music—feral, visceral, erotic beyond imagining.

“Remember me!” He arched her backward, taking her nipples into his mouth and suckling her hard, the sweet tugs sending ragged bolts of heat deep into her belly.

And Sarah found herself hovering on some sharp and shimmering edge, the combined sensations almost too intense to bear. She cried his name, felt her inner muscles draw tighter, tighter, tighter. “Connor!”

And then her pleasure peaked, her very flesh seeming to sing, a crescendo of ecstasy rising inside her, humming through her. Her body cried out its bliss in bright golden notes, his sure strokes carrying her far beyond this world to a place where there was nothing but the two of them, then leaving her to float amongst the silent stars.

When next she became aware, she found herself collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, his hands stroking her skin, his lips pressing soft kisses against her hair, her temple, her cheek. She raised her head, met his gaze, and felt her still-thrumming heart skip a beat. His eyes were dark as darkest night, strands of damp hair clinging to his face, his sweat-slick chest rising and falling with each powerful breath, his body still joined with hers.

The purring beast was still very much alive inside him. And still hungry.

“I…I didn’t know it could be like that.” Sarah reached up, stroked his stubble-rough jaw—and found herself beneath him.

“Och, Sarah.” His gaze softened, something like pain flickering in his eyes as he reached down to wrap one of her legs around his waist. “Remember me.”

This time, he drove into her fast and hard, his body shaking with need, every muscle tight. And she realized just how much he’d held himself back that night in the Shawnee village, how
hard he’d tried to be gentle in an effort not to hurt her, his thrusts so much more forceful now than they had been then. The thought put a hard lump in her throat.

“Sarah!” He called for her, desperation in his voice, the sound of her name lost amidst a torrent of Gaelic.

Oh, but it felt so good, his motions driving her headlong toward another astonishing peak. She clung to him, blinding pleasure claiming her once more, the sweetness of it singing through her, bringing tears to her eyes, his deep, powerful thrusts prolonging her pleasure.

But he was not far behind her.

“Remember me!”
He groaned, his body seeming to shake apart in her arms, as he claimed his own release, spilling himself inside her.

A
wed by Sarah, Connor kissed away her tears, her joy his absolution. Weak from loving her, he rolled onto his back, cradling her against him, feeling a kind of satisfaction and peace he hadn’t known since…

He couldn’t remember when.

“If coupling brings women such pleasure, why did Margaret tell me only of the pain?” Sarah’s eyes were closed, her voice soft.

“Perhaps her husband was rough wi’ her and only ever gave her pain. There are many men who think only of their own satisfaction and dinnae take the time to please their women.” He thought on it for a moment more. “Given that she desired women, perhaps her husband’s touch was loathsome to her. But perhaps she found pleasure with lovers—women who shared her…passions.”

“I hope so—for her sake.” There was deep grief in Sarah’s voice. “I wish…I wish she hadn’t taken her own life. I never got the chance to thank her, to tell her that I do not blame her for this.”

“She kens, lass. Wherever she is now, she kens the truth.” Connor held Sarah a bit tighter, touched by the strength of her heart.

A lesser woman might have renounced a friend under such circumstances—and for good cause. But not Sarah. She held true, even when those who ought to have protected her had not.

“Did I…Do you think me…” Her voice held uncertainty now, her brow troubled. “Do you think me licentious or shameless? The way I cried out…”

Was she ashamed of her own response?

He shifted her in his arms, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re a passionate lass, aye, and an ardent lover, but shameless, licentious? Nay. Never. To hear you cry out with pleasure—’tis the sweetest sound I ken.”

She smiled and settled into his arms again, her breathing growing deep and even.

“What did you say to me?” She sounded sleepy.

“Hmm, lass?”

“When we were making love—you spoke words I don’t know. Perhaps Gaelic. What did you say?”

“That you are bonnie beyond my dreams.” He pressed another kiss to her hair. “In truth, I cannae recall.”

But that was a lie. He remembered perfectly what he’d said because the words that had fallen from his lips had startled him.

Tha móran ghràdh agam ort.

My love lies upon you.

There was no need to tell her the truth because he hadn’t meant what he’d said. He didn’t love her. He’d been drunk with desire for her at the time, his tongue unanswerable for its mindless mutterings.

Her words slurred, as if she were on the brink of sleep, she spoke again. “Promise me you won’t let go of me tonight. If tonight is all we have…”

She didn’t need to explain.

“Aye, lass, I promise. I’ll no’ let you out of my arms.” He drew her closer, pulled the bearskin over the two of them.

It was only later, when he lay half dreaming, Sarah asleep in his arms, that Connor remembered he hadn’t meant to come inside her.

C
onnor awoke just before dawn to find Sarah nestled against him, her lashes dark against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted, her naked body soft and warm. The sight of her, sleeping so peacefully, safe from nightmares and war, left a warmth beyond contentment in his chest, as if all were right with the world. Outside the wind blew, rain pelting the roof of the cabin, beating against the greased parchment window, the fire long since burned to embers. But beneath the bearskin, it was warm, the heat of their bodies mingled with the lingering scent of their love play.

He knew he needed to rise so that he and Joseph could plan the day, but he could not bring himself to leave her. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of her beside him, trying his best to hold on to the night. And for a time he drifted, aware of little beyond their mingled breathing and the slow steady beating of their hearts.

She shifted in his arms, pressing closer to him, her cheek against his chest. His eyes opened, his gaze drawn to her face, the sense of awe he’d felt last night returning.

He’d always thought himself a skilled lover, even selfless, willing to do whatever a lass needed him to do to please her—so long as it wouldn’t get him hanged. But making love with Sarah had made all of that seem vain and hollow, her pleasure, her happiness, more important to him than breathing. Although
what he’d experienced with Sarah hadn’t been the most adventuresome bed sport he’d ever known, nor the most expert, it had been by far the most satisfying, filling the dark corners inside him with light, sating a hunger that had nothing to do with lust. Last night, he’d done all he could to give her memories to last a lifetime, but they were now
his
memories, too, wrapped tightly inside him, burned into his blood.

No matter how long he lived, he would never forget her.

He ducked down, pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, reluctant to break this spell and leave her side, yet knowing he had no choice. “Sleep, Princess.”

He rose and dressed quickly, taking time to build up the fire before walking out into the rain and cold in search of Joseph. He found his Mahican brother cooking ash cakes and warming himself at a small fire in the shelter of the barn.

Joseph looked up for a moment, seeming to study Connor’s face, before returning his gaze to the fire. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Connor couldn’t help but grin. In truth, he’d slept but little. Even so, he felt vigorous, well rested. “Aye. And you?”

“Yes, though I did not have a beautiful woman to warm me.” He met Connor’s gaze again. “The stupid grin on your face tells me that Sarah did far more than keep you warm. Did you please her?”

“Aye, I did.” Connor ought to have known he wouldn’t be able to hide what had happened from Joseph. “She woke up screamin’ from a bad dream, and I gave her comfort as best I could. And then…”

He would not reveal, not even to Joseph, what Sarah had told him in confidence.

Joseph gave a decisive nod. “Good. I am glad. She deserves happiness—as do you, brother.”

Connor watched Joseph, huddling deeper in his bearskin coat, the morning cold, a heavy mix of rain and snow falling from the sky. “I ken you care for her, Joseph. I—”

“I have no claim upon her.” Joseph stood. “You fought for her. You
married
her. If she chooses you, that is as it should be.”

And Connor felt a worry he hadn’t realized he was carrying slip away.

Joseph’s gaze turned skyward. “I do not think we should leave the shelter of this place until the storm passes.”

“Nor do I.” Connor looked out at the mix of rain and snow. “She’s no’ seasoned to the colonies. I fear she would catch her death in this.”

And quickly they planned the day.

Joseph would scout around the farmstead to see if anyone had followed them or drawn near during the night, while Connor would keep the fire going and watch over Sarah. If aught should occur to separate them, they would rendezvous at the split rock northeast of here tomorrow night.

Then Connor remembered. “I need another cup of Rebecca’s dogbane tea for Sarah. Can you tell me how to brew it for her?”

“You need to learn to control yourself.” Joseph gave Connor a withering look. “I am not a midwife. I do not normally carry a pouch of dogbane leaves. I brought it only because I feared Sarah might have been raped. This is the last of it.”

Connor took the pouch. “You have my thanks.”

“You should pull out, spill your seed in your fist.”

Connor glared at him. “I bloody well ken that.”

Joseph rested a hand on his arm. “What will you do when we reach the fort? I can see in your eyes that you love her.”

Connor gave a snort, shaking his head, ignoring the knot Joseph’s words had caused in his chest. “I am deeply fond of her—I willna deny it. But I’ve no’ fallen in love wi’ her. I’m no’ like Iain or Morgan to set my heart on a woman I must move heaven and earth to claim.”

He turned and strode toward the cabin, ignoring Joseph’s arched eyebrow.

“A
good morn’ to you lass.”

Sarah awoke to the sweet feel of Connor’s kisses, his lips pressing insistently to her temple, cheek, lips. She opened her eyes, looked up at him, and smiled, feeling warm and languid, thoughts of last night still fresh in her heart. “Good morning.”

Then she saw that Connor was already dressed.

Alarmed, she sat up, clutching the bearskin against her breasts. “I’ve overslept.”

“Easy, Sarah. I let you sleep.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip, then pointed to the ceiling. “Do you hear that?”

Rain. Wind.

“’Tis cold and wet out.” He walked back to the table, picked up his tin cup, and returned with it. “Joseph is gone scoutin’, but you and I will stay here till the storm passes. I dinnae wish you to grow chilled and catch your death. I’ve made you more dogbane tea. Careful. ’Tis hot.”

Sarah’s heart lifted.

She’d been given a reprieve. They were staying at the cabin. That meant an extra day before they reached the fort, an extra day away from the shame and emptiness that had become her life, an extra day with Connor.

He heated a pail of water for her while she sipped her tea, leaving her alone to bathe. As she washed away proof of their joining, she was surprised to find that she was sore between her thighs. Then again, last night’s union had been far more forceful than it had been that night in the Shawnee village. On that terrible night, she’d held as still as she could, speared by pain and fear. But last night, her motions had been every bit as violent as Connor’s. The memory of how she’d behaved—thrusting against him, her nails leaving marks on his skin, her erotic moans—made her face grow hot.

You’re a passionate lass, aye, and an ardent lover, but shameless, licentious? Nay. Never. To hear you cry out with pleasure—’
tis the sweetest sound I ken.

And Sarah felt like she was living in a world made new. Not only did Connor know why she’d been sent away, but he also found no guilt in her. He
believed
her. He’d showed her tenderness and pleasure beyond her most hopeful imaginings.