Her Highland Protector (Scottish Highlander Romance) Page 20

  “Wi ye walk wi’ me tonight, Myra?” he asked. “Oot oan the moors? It be a beautiful moon this eve.”

  She eyed him with a grin. “Surely you are not thinking you can get me alone and ravish me, do you?”

  Leaning over to kiss her cheek, he whispered. “Aye.”

  Once supper was over, he took her hand and led her from the hall amid the loudly laughing and jesting clansmen who sat at their tables drinking ale and mead. As he passed, he half listened to them flirting with the serving wenches, whistling through their teeth, cat-calling one another. He grinned at Myra’s blush when a loud voice made a very lewd suggestion as a clansman pulled a giggling lass onto his lap.

  The bailey had few occupants at this hour, as most people ate their meals or sought their beds. Toward the east, the nearly full moon glowed golden as it rose higher in the night sky. Hunting foxes yapped not far away while the fresh clean breeze brought him the scent of heather and wild roses on its wings. Almost as eager as he to be alone, Myra half pulled him along toward the moors.

  “Will the guards on the walls see us?” she whispered, glancing around at the dark castle now behind them.

  “Nae where I be takin’ ye.”

  He led her toward a secluded, grassy area behind a small hill, well within shouting distance of the guards, yet hidden from their view. Taking her face within his hands, Greer kissed her, his tongue pushing slowly between her lips. Her small hands crept around his waist as she stepped closer, her breasts flush against his chest. He breathed in her sweet, feminine odor, a fragrance that was Myra’s own.

  Removing his belt with his sword and dagger, he dropped them to the grass, still close to hand. Greer lowered himself to the grass, taking Myra with him. Lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, he filled his hand with her luxurious hair while she cuddled close to him, the palm of her hand stroking his cheek. “I love you so much,” she whispered, her eyes luminous in the dark.

  “I love ye, me beautiful Myra. I would die wi’ out ye.”

  Leaning forward, she kissed him full on the mouth, her hair sliding forward to cover both their faces. Greer cupped the back of her neck, angling her head to deepen their kiss, filling her mouth with his tongue. His arousal grew as he sensed her own desire climbing, her urgency rising along with his own. Her hand left his face to creep beneath his tunic, her skin warm against his shoulder.

  Rolling onto his back, Greer took her with him, her upper body sprawled over his chest. Gazing up into her eyes, he caressed her back and cupped her buttocks through her skirts. She rubbed his nose with hers, then kissed his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids. “I need you,” she murmured, her voice thick.

  “Straddle me.”

  Shifting her gown, Myra spread her legs and sat bestride his waist, her hands lifting his tunic to rub his chest and belly. His own toyed with her ripe, full breasts still encased in their leather bodice. Untying the laces, he opened the top of her dress, his thumb teasing her nipples into full erection. Half lifting himself up, he licked and sucked on first one and then the other, hearing Myra’s guttural moans of pleasure.

  Lying back again, Greer pulled aside her dress, his fingers locating her mound, and the moist, warm nubbin within it. Myra hissed as he teased her into greater passion, her back arched as she raised herself onto her knees to give his hand greater contact with her vagina. His own arousal grew, his shaft iron hard within the confines of his trousers. Growing uncomfortable with the strain, he took a moment to unfasten his laces holding them together.

  His erection now free, he muttered, “Mount me.”

  Shifting backward slightly, Myra’s small hands lifted his shaft to point it at her entrance. His cockhead buried within her tunnel, he bucked his hips upward to drive it in further. Myra, her head thrown back, cried out. Whether in pain or pleasure, Greer didn’t know, yet she did not draw away from him. Instead, she pushed her hips downward, impaling herself on him.

  “Move yer hips back and forth,” he whispered, feeling the tightness of her core around his length, buried to the hilt within her.

  Myra obeyed, rocking her hips back and forth, grinding herself down onto him even as Greer bucked his upward, thrusting into her. His breath came faster as his pleasure mounted higher, his hands on her encouraging her movements. Myra moaned through her gritted teeth, her hands flat on his belly as she worked her hips and his shaft to her own heightened ecstasy.

  His orgasm looming, Greer thrust upward, driving himself in further, her womb’s walls clamped down tightly upon his organ. Feeling her body shudder, the hoarse cry that sprang from her, he knew her own orgasm exploded through her. He felt Myra’s flower quake, convulsing, and the erotic sensation brought forth his own eruption. Wave upon wave of incredible pleasure coursed through his every nerve ending, his breath came hard and fast.

  Deep within her, his seed blasted forth, his shaft spasming as he thrust upward, needing the moment to last forever. Collapsing back, panting, he felt Myra’s body relax, his manhood still buried inside her body. Leaning forward, Myra kissed him, slowly, lovingly. “How can such feelings between two people be a sin?” she whispered against his lips.

  “I dinnae,” he answered, his mouth toying with hers, nibbling, seeking.

  Rolling off of his body, Myra lay beside him, staring up into the sky. “It’s so beautiful.”

  He propped himself up on his elbow, his hand caressing her still naked breasts. “Ye are beautiful.”

  With a grin, her voice light and teasing, Myra said, “So this is what being ravished by a wild Scotsman is like.”

  “I wi’ ravish ye anytime ye wish.”

  She giggled, then rose awkwardly to her feet, adjusting her gown. “Idina will worry,” she said, tying the laces of her bodice and concealing her bosom within the leather confines. “I should return to my chambers.”

  “She wi’ set the castle oan its head,” Greer agreed, rising to stuff his now limp shaft into his trousers and retie his own lacings.

  Picking up his sword belt, he buckled it around his hips, then took Myra’s hand. Under the moonlight, now in full view of the guards on the ramparts, he strolled beside her toward the bailey. “Wi ye stay wi’ in my rooms, Myra?” he asked. “Sleep in me bed?”

  He saw her glance up at the nearly invisible watchers. “I better not,” she replied. “We are creating enough castle gossip as it is.”

  Though he didn’t care what was being said about them, or whether the clan knew of his making love to Myra out of wedlock, Greer knew women could be sensitive about such matters. He nodded, even though he doubted she could see it. “The people love ye, ye ken,” he said, lifting her hand to his mouth to kiss it. “They approve of ye.”

  “That may be so,” she said. “But what we are doing is sinful, and I would like it to be kept as quiet as possible.”

  “I respect that.”

  The hall was nearly empty of clansmen drinking at the tables, and there was no sign of his parents. Presuming they, and most of the castle, had headed to their chambers, he climbed the steps beside Myra. Small torches flared in their sconces, lighting their way, yet creating tall shadows climbing the walls above them. At the door to her rooms, Greer kissed her, then gazed into her eyes.

  “Sleep well, Myra,” he murmured.

  “You, too.”

  Fumbling for the latch without looking, Myra opened the door and backed into her room, watching him with every step. As though fearing she may never see him again. At last, the door swung shut behind her, and Greer continued on to his own rooms, wishing he had the courage to ask her to marry him.

  Chapter 25

  Myra drew in a deep, ragged breath, her back flattened against the hard wood of the door. From across the room where she sat in an armchair, a lit taper beside her, Idina met her eyes. “Ye be ready then?”

  Nodding, Myra stepped further into her room, and picked up her sheathed dagger, still on its belt. Buckling it around her waist, she pulled the blade out, testing the edge with her thumb. Re
d welled up immediately from the tiny cut. “I am ready.”

  They donned dark cloaks with hoods to hide their faces, and crept out of the suite of rooms. As Idina had pulled their horses from the barn when everyone save the wall guards were at supper, saddled them, and concealed them just beyond sight of the castle around a hill. “I waited until the servants brought their food,” she whispered as she and Myra edged their way carefully down the stairs. “They dinnae see me take them oot.”

  “Excellent. It’ll be easier to hide ourselves in the dark without them.”

  Hugging the walls of the bailey, hiding in the shadows, Myra and Idina crept noiselessly out of the castle. Unlike her journey north when there was no moon to reveal her, this night it shone down brightly. Without the concealing shadows, they would be easily seen from above as they crossed the open.

  Biting her lip, her back to the stone wall, Myra gazed up, wondering what to do. “We need a distraction,” she muttered. “Something to make them look the other way.”

  “We hae one. Just wait.”

  Myra gazed at her friend. “What?”

  Even in the dark shadows, she saw Idina’s wicked grin. “I knew the moon be bright, sae I paid a lass tae behave drunk oan the far side o’ the castle. Get the lads’ attention.”

  “You’re a genius.”

  Within moments, a distant sound rose. A faint, yet distinct, “Yoo hoo!” sounded from the other side of the castle. More sexy calls and shouts of, “Look at me,” came to Myra’s ears. Idina took her hand.

  “We gae now.”

  Running as fast as they could in their cloaks and skirts, they dashed into the moors, at last hidden from view of the ramparts. With a low hill between them and the castle, they were now safe from the eyes of the guards. Taking a swift look around the hill and up, Myra watched the dim forms of the guards return to their interrupted patrol. She breathed in deeply. “I’m so glad you thought of that. I didn’t.”

  “The horses be this way.”

  Following Idina, Myra kept her body low as she hurried across the moonlit ground, both looking and listening for the approach of anyone who may have seen them. The horses, tied to a thicket, woke from their doze with soft snorts as the two women strode up to them. Grabbing her reins, Myra lowered her hood in order to look around more easily, checking for any signs they were being followed. Finding none, she swiftly mounted up.

  Both excitement and fear hovered in Myra’s stomach as they cantered south across the moors. If Primshire hunted this night, and fell into their trap, they just may kill him and rid the world of his evil. Or if he sprang their trap without being caught in it, Myra and the others may very well be killed. I may die tonight. Though she considered her possible death, she also felt confident in their abilities to kill Primshire. After all, they outnumbered him and had surprise on their side.

  As they had planned, Myra and Idina found the others near the stream at the base of the hill. Dismounting, Myra and Idina let Carin lead their horses to a hiding spot.

  “Any sign of him?” she whispered, gazing around the moonlit moors and seeing nothing. “We should be able to see him coming if he’s on a horse.”

  “Nae yet, Myra,” Donalda replied. “Now we already picked our hiding spots in the thickets there by the stream, the rocks here and o’er there. Close enough tae rush in when he makes a move oan ye.”

  Myra glanced around, and nodded. Her heart racing, she wiped her sweating palms down her skirts, then pulled her knife from its sheath. Still carrying her fears, she discovered her hand was yet steady and her breathing calm. “Let’s do this. Get yourselves hidden and I will walk out a ways, make sure he sees me.”

  Idina gave her a quick, hard embrace. “Ye be careful, Myra.”

  “You be careful, too,” she replied, gazing around at the women. “We all are in danger, not just me. But if we’re successful, then we have nothing to fear from him again.”

  Waiting a moment, watching them hide, she made certain none of them could be seen unless they moved, Myra felt satisfied that their trap for Primshire would work and they all would survive to see the sun come up. Walking toward the southeast, she saw the dim lights of Coombs in the distance, and although the people there were too far away to help, she felt reassured by the sight anyway.

  Hoping she wasn’t too obvious about it, Myra watched and listened, knowing that Primshire had stalked his victims many times without being seen. Not liking that a nearby hill just southwest of her obscured the moors from her view, she edged away from it. If Primshire stalked her from there, she wanted plenty of room to run once he showed himself.

  An hour passed, the moon riding high over her head. She began to think that this was a night that Primshire had elected not to hunt, or if he did, he did so on his own lands and slaughtered his own villagers. Perhaps we should try again tomorrow night. The small hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end, her flesh prickled. She had felt the sensation of being watched only once before, and remembered it clearly.

  Primshire stalked her.

  She gazed around, staring at each shadow, waiting for any one of them to move and reveal him. None did. Slowly turning, she walked toward Idina and the others, the hilt of her knife in her hand. Listening hard, she heard the rustle of the heather behind her, of clothes against twigs, and perhaps, if she was right, the sound of breathing. They were very close behind her, and she speeded up her pace.

  The trap lay a mere few yards from her. Knowing Primshire struck this victims on the head first, Myra mentally planned to spin and face him, to see the blow coming. She rushed forward, maintaining a light but firm grip on her weapon, she seeing the trap only steps ahead of her.

  Myra felt Primshire just behind her.

  Ducking fast, she spun and slashed in the same motion. Her blade met flesh, parted it like water. The hand holding the hilt of the dagger flashed over her head, harmless. In the same instant, Idina, Carin, Donalda, Kelly, Eithne, Lina, Flanna and Morgana swarmed from hiding, the moon glinting off their raised blades. Her right arm now across her, Myra swung her dagger back toward the shocked Earl of Primshire.

  Moving fast, he dodged it, and it missed his throat by inches. Dancing back from him, Myra saw his eyes widen in shock as the other eight charged into the fight, silent, deadly, their intent clear. Raising her own knife, Myra lunged forward, her teeth bared in a snarl. The Earl, despite his size, moved faster than they. His fist lashed out, and connected with Myra’s cheekbone.

  Pain exploded across her head and face, and she knew she was falling to the ground. She hit it hard, her instincts screaming at her to get up, to fight or be killed. Blinking, she scrambled to her feet as Idina’s hand gripped her arm, helping her up. “He be gone,” Idina snapped.

  “What?”

  “He ran like a rabbit, Myra,” Carin said, spitting on the ground in her fury. “We had him. We bloody had him and he ran.”

  Raising her hand to her cheek, feeling it swelling, Myra gazed around at the now empty moors. “Bloody hell,” she swore. “I hit him, I think I hit him, didn’t I?”

  “Aye,” Eithne replied in between her own vile cursing, pacing around like a caged beast. “I were closest, I saw yer blade cut him deep across his belly. He were bleeding when he bolted.”

  Like Eithne, her hot fighting blood rushing through her veins prevented her from standing still, Myra walked out toward the south, and heard the very faint thunder of hooves. “He ran,” she repeated. “He just up and ran. Damn it to hell!”

  She picked up some of the vile words the others spilled from their mouths, then held up her dagger to the moonlight. A faint line of blood tinged the edge, and she bent to wipe it clean on the grass. Her rage slowly cooled, and as it ebbed, her head began to pound. “That bloody bugger hit me,” she snapped.

  “He dinnae have his knife ready tae gut ye,” Idina said, striding toward to also stare into the southern distance. “He saw ye lunging fer him and he had tae knock ye back. And it distracted us.”

>   “Just enough for him to run,” Morgana added with disgust. “We cannae chase a man doon wearing these bloody skirts.”

  “If had any brains,” Flanna said, sheathing her dagger, “We hae worn lienes, like the lads dae.”

  “We ne’er expected him tae run, Flanna,” Morgana retorted. “We be quick enough in skirts tae fight.”

  “Next time I say we wear lienes.”

  “There won’t be a next time,” Myra said, rubbing her sore cheek and feeling for a loose tooth with her tongue. “He won’t be stupid enough to try again. Any girl he sees could be a trap set for him.”

  She smiled wryly. “Besides, when Greer sees me with this bruise on my face, he’ll lock me away for the next ten years. If he doesn’t kill me.”

  “We all stand wi’ ye, Myra,” Carin said, her tone firm. “He dinnae dare dae anything when we all stand beside ye.”