The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(121)

He grinned. “I’ll let you fuss over me all you want, once we are out of here. But first…”

He slid his hands onto her hips and brought her against him. The next moment his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her with passion that bordered on desperation.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed her body to his, needing to feel his heat and strength.

He groaned, kissing her deeper, sweeping his tongue in her mouth with long, ravenous thrusts.

Her body ignited with heat, her skin drawing tight and prickly, her ni**les hardening, and dampness gathering between her legs in a pool of molten need.

He cupped her bottom, holding her against his hardness. The desire became overwhelming. Her body started to move against his, seeking the sweet relief of friction.

He tore away with an oath. “God, you are killing me. But we need to be ready, and I doubt your brother left us here so I could take you in his guardroom with these.” He lifted his chained manacled wrists.

“Ready for what?”

“You’ll know it when you hear it. What time is it?”

She looked at him quizzically. “I don’t know. It was near sunset when I came in. They will be calling for vespers soon, I’d imagine. I forgot about the manacles. How are we supposed to get out of here with your hands chained?”

He smiled, stepped on the chain with his feet, and pulled until his muscles seemed strained to the breaking point—but it was the iron that snapped. He’d broken the chain in two. He laughed at her expression. “It’s a little trick I learned to impress the lasses.” Rosalin wasn’t even going to comment on that. “But we’ll have help.”

“The other phantoms?”

His expression went utterly still. He just stared at her.

“Did you not think I would figure it out?” She shook her head. “Really, Robbie, I’m not blind. I’ve seen you fight. I’ve seen the markings and the demonic-looking helm. I heard Sir Alex call you Raider once. I figured that was your war name. It’s appropriate, by the way.”

He was still stunned. “How long have you known?”

“A while. Sir Alex told me I shouldn’t tell you I knew.”

His expression darkened. “The traitorous bastard probably hoped you’d tell your brother. God knows it won’t be a secret much longer.”

From his expression, she could tell that he’d taken Sir Alex’s defection even harder than she’d anticipated. “He didn’t betray you, Robbie. He just stopped believing in the same things. He will keep your secrets, just as I would have kept them.”

“There are other ways—”

“You mean the tattoo? You need not fear discovery that way. He removed it—or obliterated it, really.”

The information didn’t have effect that she’d hoped. Instead of allaying his fears of betrayal, it only seemed to make the betrayal worse. As if the markings were some kind of sacred bond that Alex had just run a knife through.

“He’s in London,” she said, knowing he was too proud to ask. The sting was too raw right now, but she hoped over the years to help him understand and accept what Sir Alex had done. Years…

“Did you mean it, Robbie?”

“What part, mo ghrá?” He slid his hands around her waist again and drew her in tightly. His voice grew husky. “That I love you? Aye, I meant it. And I intend to do everything I can to prove it to you until you never have to ask again. You were right—I need you. I didn’t realize how much until I arrived at that village and knew how close I’d come to making a horrible mistake and realized how far I’d strayed from the man I used to be. I’m going to be that man again, Rosalin. And if I forget, you will be there to remind me.”

She smiled, tears of happiness filling her eyes. “I believe you. You must love me if you agreed to let me sing Cliff’s praises. I can be quite long-winded, you know.”

He shuddered, getting that sour-distasteful look on his mouth.

“And when you complimented him, I had no doubt of it.”

“The hell I did!”

She laughed. “I wish you could have seen your face when he said you would have to name our son Cliff. Although it does have a nice ring to it.”

He rolled his eyes with a groan. “Christ, Rosalin, don’t even jest about it. I still haven’t recovered.”

She took his hand and put it on her stomach. “I suppose there is close to nine months to decide.”

Robbie was an exceptionally smart man, but it took him a minute to realize what she meant. His face lost every drop of color. He stared at her with something resembling horror in his eyes. Then his face crumpled. If she’d ever doubted his ability to feel emotion, she never would again. He looked like a man who’d been shattered. He held her tightly, and she could feel his chest shaking.

“I’m sorry. Oh Christ, I’m sorry. I never thought…I should have thought. You would have paid the price, and I could have lost you both.”

She knew the way his mind worked, and he was probably twisting it in some way to think about his sister. She put her fingers on his mouth to stop him from saying any more. “I love you, Robbie. It’s not the same. And you came for me in time. In rather dramatic fashion, I might add.”

She jumped when she heard a sound like thunder.