The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(102)

When she could open her eyes, he gave her a wicked grin. “I told you it would be fun.”

She gave him a look that made him feel like he was an incorrigible lad of about five. But then a decidedly wicked gleam appeared. “It’s certainly about to be.” Their eyes met. “I should warn you that I can be quite merciless as well.”

He smiled, genuinely amused. “You can?”

She nodded and lazily started to run her soft fingertips over the hard-muscled bands of his stomach, her wrist passing dangerously close to the powerful head of his erection. She was teasing him, and he didn’t think he liked it. Or rather, he liked it too much.

She pushed him onto his back with a gentle shove and rolled on top of him, straddling him. At first he thought she would impale herself on him again, but instead, she started trailing soft little kisses down his chest. Down his chest and over the same bands of muscle she’d just teased.

His stomach dropped. Could she intend…

“Do you remember what you told me that first night at camp?”

He swore. His heart started to pound with something akin to fear. “Nay.”

The look she shot him from his stomach, her mouth achingly close to his cock, called him a liar. “You told me I could suck your…” She blushed, unable to get the word out.

Oh Christ. Every muscle in his body jumped. Hell, his skin jumped—or he jumped out of it. He had to fight to keep himself from grabbing her. All he could manage was a groan.

“I think I should like to,” she whispered.

And then she kissed him. She moved her soft, pink lips over the big, fat head of his c**k and slowly lowered her mouth.

He did jump out of his skin then. Every ounce of blood pounded through his body. He’d never been so aroused in his life. He wouldn’t have moved if the entire English army were climbing up that hill.

He prayed for strength. But God wasn’t giving him any. And she was just as merciless as she’d promised. She brought him to his f**king knees.

“Show me,” she whispered, holding him in her hand.

And he did. He lifted her head over him and told her how to milk him. How to lave him with her tongue and take him deep in her throat and pump the length that wouldn’t fit with her hand. He watched her take him in her warm, moist mouth, watched as those beautiful pink lips stretched around him, until he felt the first pulse ratchet through him. And then he took her with his body, making love to her under the trees as if he could hold on to this day forever.

Twenty-three

Forever was over too damned soon. When they returned to the castle at dusk, Robbie was informed by one of the guards that Seton and Douglas were waiting in the Hall.

He probably should have sent Rosalin upstairs, but she ran ahead of him so excitedly, he didn’t have the heart to call her back.

He was only a step or two behind her when she burst into the Hall and rushed toward Seton. “Was it as I said, Sir Alex? Did my brother explain that he had nothing to do with the attack in the forest?”

Robbie already knew the answer. One glance at Douglas’s black visage told him.

“Aye, my lady,” Seton answered. “It was as you said.” He turned to face Robbie. “Lord Clifford knew nothing about de Spenser’s plans to attack the camp. In fact, he was furious. Before we arrived Sir Henry had been reprimanded, ordered back to England, and,” he looked back at Rosalin, “the betrothal dissolved.”

Rosalin shot him a very pleased “I told you so” look.

Seton frowned, his gaze sliding back and forth between Rosalin and Robbie. Robbie swore inwardly; his partner was too damned perceptive. A trait that came in handy on missions, but not right now.

Robbie turned to Douglas. “Are you sure?”

“Where Clifford is concerned? Never. I don’t trust the bastard.” His gaze shot uncomfortably to Rosalin, and his mouth thinned as the next words seemed pried out of his mouth. “But he seemed in earnest. He’s worried about his sister. He wants her back. He told me to remind you of your promise.”

Robbie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t realize it until Seton’s eyes narrowed on him again.

Fortunately, Joanna Douglas, who had been visiting her family that afternoon (one of the reasons he’d decided to slip away with Rosalin), picked that opportune moment to arrive.

“You’re back!” She raced into her husband’s waiting arms. He spun her around (having care for her round stomach), kissed her, and smiled—the latter causing Rosalin’s eyes to round in surprise.

“Miss me, mo ghrá?” Douglas asked.

Joanna laughed. “Perhaps a bit. How was your journey to Peebles?”

Douglas restored his dark visage with a frown. “Not well. Seton was just filling in Boyd and the…”

“Lady Rosalin,” Joanna provided helpfully, sending Rosalin an apologetic smile for her husband’s rudeness.

But Rosalin was so happy, she didn’t appear to notice.

“There’s more good news,” Seton said with a hard look at Boyd. “Clifford will have the silver by the end of the week.” His gaze turned to Rosalin. “You will be going home soon, my lady.”

Robbie hoped he was the only one who noticed the despair that dulled the excited sparkle from her eyes. “That is good news indeed.” She managed a smile, and Robbie knew she was struggling not to look at him.