Highland Knight (9 page)

Cameron laughed shakily as he spread her legs and positioned himself. “’Twill hurt ye this first time.”

“Right now I think it will hurt me more if ye stop.”

“Oh, there is nay a chance of me stopping now, my wee cat.”

Her breath came in short gasps as he began to ease into her. A foolish part of her flared to life, panicked, certain he was too large, would never fit, and would damage her if he continued, but she ruthlessly silenced it. Cameron did feel large, filling her in a way that was both slightly uncomfortable and intensely pleasurable. When he stopped, she knew he had reached her maidenhead, and she tried not to tense in anticipation of the pain to come—something she knew would only make it worse.

“Lass, we could play this game without it costing ye your maidenhead,” Cameron said. “A wee gentle ride. Nay too deep.”

“Now,” Avery wrapped one leg around his trim waist, “where would be”—she wrapped her other leg around him—“the fun in that?”

Using her legs and arms to force their bodies together, Avery impaled herself upon him. She echoed his startled curse. For a brief moment the pain of losing her maidenhead stilled her passion, but then she concentrated on how completely they were joined, on how a man and a woman could not get any closer than this, physically. She shifted slightly and gasped as her passion returned in a rush.

Cameron started to move, muttering hoarse words of flattery and encouragement against her neck. She clung to him, quickly adjusting to meet his thrusts. She slid her hands down his back to clutch at his taut buttocks, trying to push him deeper, to make sure that he did not even try to leave her now. A tension built inside her, and although she guessed what it meant, she found its strength a little alarming.

“Cameron,” she cried, knowing she had just revealed her uncertainty, and briefly wishing that she could have been stronger.

“Nay, loving, dinnae fight it.” He slowly edged his hand between their bodies to the place where they were joined. “Come with me, Avery. Give it to me.”

He touched her, stroked her with his long, clever fingers, and Avery felt herself shatter. Waves of delight flowed over her. She clung to him as his thrusts grew fiercer. He suddenly plunged deep, his hands clenching on her hips so tightly it was almost painful. Cameron shuddered, groaned her name, and jerked against her a few times as if he no longer had full control of his body. She felt the heated rush of his seed deep inside her and shattered once more, only faintly aware of Cameron cursing in surprise and delight.

Avery did not come to her senses until Cameron had cleaned them both off and was lying back down at her side. She felt almost too weak to move, yet when he pulled her into his arms, interest flickered to life inside her. Such greed, she mused, and smiled faintly as she rubbed her cheek against his chest.

True, she had not maintained full control, but she was satisfied. Even Cameron could not question that she had willingly stepped into his arms, that she had eagerly given
him her maidenhead. He had actually hesitated to take it and she found that a little endearing. No matter what happened now, whether they had a future or not, she knew she would never regret becoming his lover. Innocent she might have been, and still was in many ways, but she knew in her heart that this was a once-in-a-lifetime passion. This was love, she thought, and she sighed, feeling the pinch of sadness, for it was an unrequited love. Avery promised herself that, even if it remained unreturned, she would still find joy in it.

Cameron heard her sigh and felt a quick, sharp stab of guilt. “Regrets?”

“Mayhap it would be wiser if we didnae discuss the whys, the ifs, or the wherefores of all of this,” she said quietly as she stroked his chest, loving the feel of his taut warm skin, of muscles honed to smooth perfection. “After all, there is a verra good chance ye will say something that will anger me.”

“And then ye will return to crying me nay?” Cameron tightened his grip on her, determined not to let that happen.

“Nay, then I will cut your heart out with a dull spoon and I think that might irritate your people.”

He chuckled and stroked her back, from her slim shoulder to her nicely shaped backside. She felt good in his arms. The passion she had revealed in his arms had astounded him. So much fire in such a small, delicate woman. Even now, as he touched her only idly, he could feel her warm to him. She moved against his side in subtle invitation and her nipples hardened against his skin. Suddenly he knew, without a doubt, that it was going to be very hard to give her up. He was going to have to do his utmost to hold to his plan, to keep his sister’s travails always in mind. And, he thought, trembling as he felt her tongue lightly play over his chest, he was going to have to keep his heart well guarded. Passion had made a fool of him far too often, and this passion was the strongest, the fiercest he had ever savored; thus it was a far more dangerous one. If Avery thought to turn him from his plans by feeding his desires, she would soon see that he could not be so easily manipulated. When she slid her hand over his belly and wrapped her long fingers around his manhood, he decided he would be a fool indeed, however, if he did not at least let her try.

“Ye should rest,” he said, closing his eyes and savoring the feel of her stroking him to an aching hardness. “Ye will be sore come the morning.”

“Nay more sore than I have been from riding a horse all the day, yet it ne’er stopped me from climbing back into the saddle the next morning.” She combed her fingers through the thick hair at his groin, clasped the soft sack at the base of his erection, and gently squeezed.

A brief, surprised laugh escaped her when Cameron suddenly grabbed her, turned her onto her back, and sprawled on top of her. “Ye do move fast for such a large mon.” She ran her feet up and down his calves, enjoying the feel of their sinewy strength. “Ye dinnae like to be touched?”

“I like it too much.” He plucked at her hardened nipples with his fingers, then slowly licked each one, smiling with enjoyment over the way she squirmed beneath him “Mayhap in a week or two I will be able to savor more than one touch of those bonny hands.”

She welcomed his kiss, for it silenced the words that had rushed into her mouth, the awkward questions about how close to Cairnmoor they would be by then, and
whether he would still be eager to send her away. It would not be easy to banish such questions and concerns, but she would. Avery refused to allow such worries to steal away any of the delight she could feel in his arms. She simply promised herself that she would not allow that self-imposed blindness to become so complete that she fooled herself into thinking all was well. She would enjoy the heaven she found in his arms and pray that Cameron gained the wit to see what they could share, and see it clearly enough to want to hold fast to it.

Avery winced slightly as she stood up after helping Peter eat his porridge. She was feeling somewhat sore, although she was not really in pain. Clearly, making love stretched a few muscles she did not usually make much use of. Since she had woken up to find Cameron already deep inside her and herself in a fever of need, she had not really noticed her discomfort until now. What she needed was a long soak in a hot bath, but she decided she would wait until evening to have it. If she sought one now, she had the feeling that nearly everyone in camp would know the reason why.

When Anne asked her to gather some wood for the fires, Avery welcomed the chore, quickly collecting the small wood cart. With Gillyanne in tow and their guards ambling along behind them, she headed into the surrounding forest. It allowed her a respite from wondering if each person she caught looking at her was doing so because he knew what she had done. Avery knew it would take a while before she could feel comfortable in her place as Cameron’s lover. The fact that everyone in camp knew Cameron had no plan to make their intimate relationship a permanent one caused her far more unease than she thought it ought to.

“So, how does it feel to be a woman now?” asked Gillyanne as she tossed some kindling into the little cart.

“How do ye ken that I have taken that step?” Avery asked a little testily. “Am I branded upon the forehead?”

Gillyanne laughed and shook her head. “Nay, ye look no different, which I find a little disappointing. Nay, ’tis just that ye told me ye meant to give in, and I can nae believe that braw mon of yours would refuse an
aye
when ye gave him one.”

“Oh. Weel, he didnae. And it just feels odd right now. Whilst in his arms the delight is near to blinding, but, now I feel…weel, uneasy. I wonder how many ken what I have done, yet I dinnae feel any shame, just a wee bit of discomfort—mayhap embarrassment—that my personal business may nay be as private as I would like.”

“That will probably pass. I dinnae think anyone here will think any less of ye for this.” Gillyanne shrugged. “In truth, I think nay just a few of Cameron’s people wonder if this trouble with his sister has rattled their laird’s wits.”

“That willnae please Cameron if he catches wind of it.”

“Nay, but mayhap ’twill make the fool pause and think a bit.”

“One can only hope.”

“And just what do ye wish him to think of?’”

“That ’twill cost him most dearly to set me aside,” Avery replied quietly.

“Mayhap a good sound knock on the head will help,” Gillyanne drawled as she hefted a thick piece of wood in her small hands.

Avery laughed. “Aye, mayhap.”

“And what will ye do if he doesnae gain the wit to see that he needs ye, wants to keep ye?”

Waste away
, Avery thought.
Shatter into a hundred sharp, cutting pieces
. But she simply replied, “Survive,” and was pleased when, after studying her closely for a moment, Gillyanne just nodded and returned to the chore of collecting wood.

“So, need I ask why ye are in such a fine mood?” Leargan asked Cameron as they saddled their horses, preparing to go on a hunt for food.

“Some things are nay any of your concern,” replied Cameron, tightening the cinches on his saddle.

“Weel, if ye dinnae wish the whole camp to ken that ye have finally gained your prize, ’twould be best to stop looking at the lass so…er, warmly.”

“Thought I had been looking at her that way for days now.”

“True, but the look has changed some. ’Tis now one holding a knowledge of just what awaits ye there.”

Cameron mounted, stared out over the camp, and sighed. Leargan was probably right. Instead of just looking eager, he now looked eager and knowing. He probably looked like a man who now knew he would find a welcome in the arms of the woman he lusted after. And he did indeed lust after Avery Murray. Only sheer strength of will had pulled him out of her arms this morning. A large part of him had ached to remain cloistered in his tent all day making love to her. In truth, several long, sweaty days of lovemaking would probably not be enough to take the edge off his greed for her. Just thinking about her had him aching.

“It shouldnae be a surprise to anyone,” Cameron said. “’Twas my plan from the beginning. And, ’tis still none of their concern. Tis between me and Avery, none other.”

Leargan mounted, following when Cameron nudged his horse into motion. “Nay? They like her and that wee impertinent cousin of hers. She saved our lives, helps their women, tends their wounds, and, ’tis because of her care that young Peter will live. Ye are their laird and they will follow with little question, but that doesnae mean that they are nae thinking of a few. They dinnae feel that she deserves to be used, shamed, and then cast aside.”

“Do ye forget Katherine’s plight?”

“Nay, but that is nae Avery’s doing. The righteousness of your plan appealed to all of us until we came to ken the lass ye would use to accomplish it. Now it just doesnae set right. Ye could have left her be. Ye could have set aside the seduction part of your plan and just used her in trade, the ransom being Sir Payton.”

“Aye, I could have. Howbeit, ye cannae blame this on me. Last night she seduced me.” Cameron scowled at Leargan when his cousin released a snorting laugh of blatant disbelief. “She did. Aye, she didnae need to use many tricks, did she? ’Tis no secret I have lusted after her from the start. However, I was questioning the whole of my plan.” He frowned. “I suddenly didnae want the bedding, if there was to be one, to be part of it all. But,
she
came to
me
. Jesu, at one point I e’en offered to leave her maidenhood intact, but she took that decision from my hands as weel.”

“Weel, ye handsome rogue, ye have obviously driven the poor lass to madness.” Leargan met Cameron’s glare with a wide, unrepentant grin, then quickly grew serious again. “Marry her.”

“’Twould be verra difficult to trade Avery for her brother if I made her my wife, now wouldnae it?”

“Trade Gillyanne for Sir Payton.”

“If Avery was my wife, any threat I made against the wee lass wouldnae carry any weight, would it. The Murrays wouldnae believe that I would do anything more to my wife’s wee cousin than glare at her. Jesu, they would ken that I would have to battle my own wife to e’en try to hurt that lass. And, I dinnae want a wife.”

“Every mon needs an heir.”

“I dinnae. I have you and any one of nearly a dozen other cousins.”

“And ye dinnae trust any woman as far as ye can spit, do ye?”

“Do ye blame me? A treacherous lot, women are. Sweet and soft when they want something, yet quick to stab ye in the back if the mood takes them or they find richer fields elsewhere. Right now, Avery is being sweet and soft, but ’twill nay last.”

Leargan shook his head. “Ye malign the poor lass without cause. Do ye mistrust all men because some have revealed a lack of honor? Nay. Yet ye spit upon the honor of all women because of the actions of a few.”

“More than a few,” Cameron muttered, but the truth of Leargan’s words could not really be argued away. “The only thing that matters, that cannae be ignored, is that Katherine needs to wed the mon who seduced her. If she is carrying a bairn, then that bairn needs his father. The way to get those things is with Gillyanne and Avery.”

“Ye are a stubborn mon, cousin.”

“Why? Because I feel a stronger loyalty to one of my own blood than to a wee lass tossed at my feet, to the sister of the mon who dishonored my sister? If matters were t’other way round, Avery would feel the same. She would stand firm by her blood kin, by her clansmen. And she would expect me to understand that.”

“Ah, but that would imply that she has a sense of loyalty and honor, and ye cannae seem to believe that any lass could have either,” Leargan drawled. Then he nudged his horse ahead of Cameron’s, signaling an end to the discussion.

Cameron cursed and followed his cousin. He had begun to see that, perhaps there were a few flaws in his beliefs about women. It was a change of attitude he fought against, however. His cynicism, his complete lack of faith in women, was part of his shield against the allure of Avery, and he was determined not to lose it.

He was pleased to have all discussion about Avery ended, too. Leargan’s suggestion about marrying the lass was not one he wanted to hear too often, nor any arguments that would reveal it to be in any way possible. It was tempting, too tempting. Now that he had tasted her passion, he would like nothing better than to hold her in his bed, to have the right to reach for her any time he felt so inclined. To his utter dismay, he could all too easily envision a future with her, could even see the children they could raise together. Nay, even the word
marriage
was enough to start him thinking, and he could not afford to. Avery would be sent away. What they shared now was only a passing thing. For his own sake, and for Katherine’s, he could not allow it to be anything more.

Avery sighed with pleasure as she eased her body down into the hot herbal-scented bath. She found it a little amusing that Cameron toted along the huge bathing tub as well as his feather mattress, although she was deeply grateful for both. Since they were settled in one spot for more than one night, he had had his tub and his mattress unpacked. The man plainly liked his comforts. She suspected he had also anticipated very little trouble along the way, which was comforting.

As she lounged in the bath, letting the heat soothe away each and every twinge, she thought about how she should deal with Cameron now. He was her lover now, and it would be hard to change that even if she had any inclination to do so. Cameron was a very stubborn man, and he had his mind set on using her to force Payton to marry Katherine. He also did not trust women. That left her in the awkward position of having to prove herself to him, of making him see that she was just what he needed. She had
saved the lives of him and his people, done her fair share of the work of keeping his men fed, clothed, and comfortable, and nursed his wounded men. Now she warmed his bed, and she did not think it was vanity that made her certain she did that very well indeed. As far as Avery could see, there was not a whole lot more she could do.

Briefly, she considered telling him what lay in her heart, but she quickly cast aside that idea. Cameron would think she played some kind of game. His distrust of women would make him see her words of love as no more than some attempt to get him to do as she wanted. That would hurt—far more than she even cared to think about.

So, she mused, that left her with the passion they shared. Although he did not seem to sense it, she put her love for him behind every kiss, every touch, every sigh of delight. Eventually that might work to soften his heart, make him rethink his plans. That, and just continuing to behave as she had been. Cameron was not stupid. At some point, he had to realize that not all women were like the ones whose betrayals had so soured him.

Avery grimaced as she started to wash herself. Perhaps, if she did no more than soften his attitude about women, she could find some solace in that. It would not warm her lonely bed after he had set her aside, nor mend her broken heart, but it would be an accomplishment she could take some pride in.

Suddenly, Cameron appeared at the side of her tub, naked and grinning. Avery knew she was staring at him stupidly as he climbed into the tub, but she could not help herself. He was such a beautiful man, the mere sight of him was enough to stir her desire. She was also startled to realize that she had been sunk so deeply into her own thoughts that she had not even heard him enter the tent and undress.

“Are ye sure this tub can hold both of us?” she asked as he slowly sank down into the water, his long body crowding her up against the far end.

“Aye, although I may regret this.” He scooped up a handful of water, sniffed it, and grimaced. “My men will think I smell far too pretty. Ah, weel, at least it is nae roses. And, getting all hot and sweaty afterward should dim some of the stench.”

“And just what do ye plan to do to get all hot and sweaty?” she asked, although the heated look in his eyes gave her a very good idea. “Hunt? Train the men? Wrestle?”

“Wrestle. With ye. All night long,” he added, drawing out each word as he plucked the soap and washing cloth from her hands. “Come, turn round, lass, and I will wash your back.”

Even as she did what he told her to, she muttered, “I was almost done bathing.”

“Ah, but ye have nae done your back yet, have ye?”

“Weel, nay,” she replied, certain he had far more in mind than just assisting her in her bath.

Avery trembled slightly as he began to wash her back; she was mildly disgusted with herself. He was not doing anything seductive. In fact, he barely touched her with his hands, yet the way he rubbed her with the washing rag was enough to stir her blood. Obviously, as concerned her passion for Cameron, there was little hope for control. Now that she knew the full delight they could share, her weakness for him had clearly grown tenfold.

“Stand up, lass, so that I can finish the back of you,” Cameron said.

There was a trace of huskiness in his deep voice that told Avery he was not completely unmoved. She found some comfort in that. It was also a little sad, she decided as she stood up. One instinctively tried to guard oneself against such a weakness. It was
possible that they could spend what little time they had together both fighting hard against becoming helpless victims of their own passions. Love would find a hard time taking root under such conditions.

She caught her breath as he began to wash her legs and backside. There was a change in the way he touched her. He was using his hands to soap her skin now, and he was stroking her. When he rinsed the soap away, she breathed a sigh of relief pleased that that torment was over, only to nearly stumble to her knees when he kissed her at the very base of her spine. She clenched her hands into tight fists when he took his kisses even lower.

“Turn around, loving,” he ordered, grasping her firmly by the hips and gently forcing her to obey him.