Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(101)

She never wanted to wake up.

Her moans became frantic cries as their movements grew more frenzied—more intense. More focused on one goal.

Her pulse raced as the road to paradise opened up in front of her—beckoning. “Oh, God … yes.”

Sensation built in a focused center between her legs. She arched back to take him deeper. He was so big and thick, wedged up high inside her. She could hear his harsh breathing and his hard grunts of pleasure in her ear.

His kissing grew rougher, more urgent, sucking, nipping, the roughness of his unshaven stubble scraping against the sensitive skin of her nape.

One hand plied the rigid peak of her nipple, twisting it gently, as the other hand slid down between her legs. His fingers caressed her from the front as his erection filled her from behind. And when his thumb found the most sensitive spot …

It was too much. Her heart slammed into her chest. Her breath caught. Sensation splintered and she started to shatter.

“That's it, love,” he whispered. “Come for me.” His voice was low and ragged. “God, you are so hot.”

Her mind went blank as white hot pleasure exploded inside her. She cried out with the force of the spasms that rocked her from head to toe. No part of her was left out.

He thrust one more time, holding himself deep inside her, and then began to circle his hips, the pressure and friction taking her even higher—to a peak she'd never climbed.

And then he started to come, the hot rush of his seed joining the warm flow of her cresting release, drawing out the pleasure even further.

When the spasms at last began to ebb, he wrapped his arms around her, snuggling her against the warm, protective shield of his chest. They were still connected, her body tingling from the effects of their lovemaking.

She sighed against him with utter contentment. She could stay like this forever.

“You're awake,” he murmured near her ear.

She laughed. “I am now.”

“I'm sorry, I couldn't resist.” He reached down and lovingly cupped her bottom. “I woke and this was pressed temptingly against me. Your skin is so soft.” He stroked her gently, his hand caressing the curved flank. “I hope you aren't too sore.”

Though they'd made love most of the night, surprisingly she wasn't. Or if she was, she was too exhausted and well sated to feel it. “No. Though at first I thought it was a dream.”

He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “Not a dream, Lizzie.”

She turned around and smiled at him, emotion at what had happened last night tugging at her eyes and throat. “No, not a dream.”

They'd handfasted. He was hers for a year. She would never let him go.

If there had been a smidgen of doubt in her mind that he didn't care for her, it was gone now. She thought of how despite his own desires, he'd tried to resist her last night, just as he'd tried to urge her to marry Robert Campbell. To the last he was honorable to the core, trying to save her from the hardship that marriage to him might entail.

And the affection in his eyes right now … he didn't just care for her.

He loves me. She knew it in her heart.

Some of the softness slipped from his face as reality intruded. “I wish we could stay longer, but it's not safe. We need to get to Balquhidder so I can join my men.” His body slid from hers, and she felt an immediate chill. “It's almost dawn. Our ride will be here soon.”

Sooner than he realized.

They'd barely had time to wash and dress before Patrick heard the sound of an approaching boat. His senses were uncanny; she hadn't heard anything. After he'd donned his weapons and gathered their belongings, they hurried outside to meet the fisherman. Lizzie was surprised to see a sheen of water clinging to the rock and trees. It had rained last night, and she hadn't even noticed.

As they approached the boat, she knew something was wrong even before he spoke.

“Hurry,” the old man said. He gave Patrick a knowing look. “Men are coming this way.”

“Did you see them?” Patrick asked, the tenderness gone from his voice—as if it had never been. Once again he was the hard, implacable warrior.

The fisherman shook his head. “Only from a distance. But since they're coming down the hills, I figured they were after you.”

The short ride to shore seemed interminable. Lizzie could see Patrick scanning the trees and hills to the south— the direction from which they'd come.

When at last they'd reached the beach, Patrick thanked the man and gave him a few more coins. “If they do come, I'd appreciate it if you keep our presence here a secret.”

The old man put a coin between his teeth and bit it. Apparently satisfied, he broke into a wide-toothed grin, the weathered ruddy leather of his skin crinkling into hundreds of lines. “They'll hear nothing from me,” he vowed.

Without wasting any more time, Patrick took her hand and led her along the shore, back in the direction from which they'd come. When the loch was behind them, they continued west. “Do you think it's your brother?” she asked.

“Or yours,” Patrick answered. “Either way, we need to reach Balquhidder first.”

They ran for a while, perhaps a mile, but the ground was slick and Lizzie was having a difficult time keeping up. The challenges of the past few days had taken their toll; her legs were like jelly.