A Dangerous Damsel (The Countess Scandals) (5 page)

“Tristan.” It was unlikely Ewan or Angus understood Romani, but Deidre wasn’t in the habit of taking chances. There were about a hundred reasons to keep their Romani ancestry a secret.

“Oh, ho. You actually like him,” Tristan teased, tugging on her hair. “You thinking about becoming Lady Dee in truth, maybe?”

Deidre elbowed him in the stomach. The coughing kept him from talking when Ewan rode back to them. He looked at Tristan, puzzled, but Deidre just smiled at him.

“This way. We found a place to camp.”

“Lead the way,” she said over Tristan’s wheezing.

Chapter 6

It was decided that Angus and the boy would take the first watch. Deidre’s brother wasn’t very keen on being assigned a watch at all, nor did he take well to being given the task of collecting wood for a fire. Ewan was pleased to see Deidre accepted fetching water from the stream much more willingly. It was clear neither of them had spent much time out of a city, but unlike her brother, his selkie seemed to be enjoying herself.

Ewan unsaddled and tended the horses while Angus prepared food. Every time he passed Deidre as they moved about the camp, she sent him a smile.

“Never in my life have I seen a man so keen on his own destruction,” Angus said after a particularly beaming smile.

“I’m nae—”

“Ye’ve taken the long way around to pass by the lass three times now.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “There’s no harm in enjoying a few smiles from a bonnie lass.”

“Yer ‘bonnie lass’ is a pit viper in a dress. Ye cannae handle that woman, Ewan.”

“She’s nae what ye think she is, Angus, but even if she was . . . I’ve done all right so far.”

Angus put the knife he was cutting potatoes with down. “Done all right? Since ye met her, ye’ve been robbed, stabbed, poisoned, and run out of town.”

“Those were—”

“Meanwhile, she’s secured a protector, safe passage, and a place to wait out her troubles. Explain to me how yer getting the better end of that deal?”

“I’m nae about to leave a woman to fend for herself.”

“And that’s why she’ll keep getting the better of ye. That one fends just fine. She doesnae need ye to save her.”

She didn’t need Ewan to save her, but he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t in Ewan’s nature to abandon a woman in need. Even if she hadn’t been in any sort of danger, Ewan wasn’t certain he could have walked away from her. It went beyond her being beautiful. Even if he wasn’t looking at her, he could feel where she was as she moved around the camp. It was like there was a string that ran from him to her and it tugged at him with every motion.

It was the reason he knew the moment she followed him when he finished his stew and went to find a breezy place by the stream to sleep.

“May I lie by you?”

“Aye.” His physical response was significantly less subdued.

Pleased though he was by his own vitality, especially in light of a long night on horseback after a long day of bleeding, it was a bit inconvenient as he unpinned his plaid and laid it out on the ground. He kept his back to her as he tied the ends of his shirt together and settled onto the blanket, but eventually there was nothing else to do. He rolled onto his back.

“I—ah. Sorry.”

“For what?” She slid herself in next to him, using his bicep as a pillow. Her hand found its way onto his chest.

Mother, Mary, and Joseph. When she’d asked to lie by him—who was he trying to fool? If she’d asked outright if she could press every inch of her against him and surround him with the scent of her hair, he wouldn’t have refused her.

“For—”

“For that?” Her hand slid down, closing over his manhood. “I don’t think you’ve anything to apologize for there.”

Holy hell.

She tested his length through the linen, running her palm over him with torturous artistry. Ewan took deep inhalations through his nose, trying to retain some semblance of calm as she squeezed and stroked.

“Deidre,” he groaned.

“Shhh,” she said, straddling him. Shoving her skirts out of the way, she replaced her hand with her body, the heat of her searing him through his shirt.

She reached up and kissed him like she had at the inn, an invading conqueror against whom he could mount no defense. His hands found her hips again, this time flesh to flesh. She ground against him, taunting him in time with her tongue’s exploration of his mouth.

This woman would be the death of him. She meant to immolate him using nothing but her body and mouth. What could he have possibly done to deserve her? He must have said it aloud because she chuckled.

“I told you, I haven’t thanked you yet for helping me.” She abandoned his mouth, raining kisses down his throat, his chest, her eventual goal evident and as wicked as the rest of her.

Ewan tried to unhear it. He tried to focus on the path of her mouth and pretend she’d said something else, but he couldn’t.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Stop.” He held her still, desperately needing to keep a clear head. “I gave my help freely, Deidre.”

She looked confused.

“Ye dinnae owe me anything. Especially nae . . . this.”

“I know.”

“I dinnae think ye do.”

“Do you not want me, Ewan?”

“I want ye more than I’ve ever wanted any woman before, but I dinnae want ye in some sort of barter.”

She stared at him, her face unreadable. Then she rolled off him, leaving him cold in the warm summer air.

“So it’s to be on your terms or not at all?” she asked, straightening her skirts back down.

“That’s nae what I—” He reached for her, but she shoved his hand away.

“Oh, I gather what you meant, and you can go to straight to the devil. I’ll give my body to whomever I choose, how and when and for whatever reason I deem worthy.”

She turned over, giving him a wide berth on the plaid and a fine view of her back.

What just happened? He was trying to do the honorable thing. He was trying not to take advantage and somehow he had ended up the villain. In his present condition, he would certainly have ample time to consider it. Sleep was in no danger of finding him.

***

Deidre had thrown herself at him, something most men would mortgage their own mother for, and he had the audacity to reject her. And not because he didn’t want her. Oh no, because of his principles. Because of the principles he thought she should share. A slow death would be too good for him.

She wanted him—more the fool her—more than she’d wanted anyone in a long time, but she’d be damned if she let him think he could dictate when and why she shared her body. Deidre heard him shift beside her. She hoped he was miserable. She hoped his throbbing cock kept him awake and wretched for the rest of eternity. She hoped it did him some sort of permanent damage. She hoped—at this rate, she’d keep herself up all day when she ought to be resting. What purpose would that serve?

He shifted again. The worst part was that she wanted him. Damn his assumptions and his principles, because she did want him in a way that had nothing to do with gratitude. Even now, she ached to roll back over and set them both afire with pleasure, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t run the risk of being rejected twice.

Lying there, hating him and wanting him and hating herself for wanting him still, she steeled her resolve. She would have him—on her terms. When Deidre was done with him, he would beg her to take him by any means she wanted. It would start right this moment.

She stood up and started unlacing her dress.

“It’s too hot, don’t you think?” She shoved it off her shoulders, watching him while she did, and let it drop to the plaid.

“Deidre . . .”

Underskirts and shift followed it. Her shoes and stockings came off last.

The entire time, he stared. “Deidre, ye shouldnae—”

“I don’t recall asking your permission or your advice.” She picked her way through the grass down to the edge of the stream. “Would you like to join me?”

He didn’t answer.

She looked back over her shoulder, making certain her pose was suitably enticing. “If you’d rather watch, that’s fine, too.”

The evidence of his attention was plainly visible, but he continued his silence. Fair enough. His attention was all that was required.

She started slow. Stepping into the water, she walked out until her fingertips trailed across the top of the water. She let him admire her from every angle as she turned. Tilting her head back and lifting her hand, a trail of droplets ran from collarbone, to breast, to stomach, to the collection of dark curls between her thighs. She let her lips part, let a sound escape as the skin pebbled along its path.

Closing her eyes, she imagined him in the water with her. She imagined it was his hand sending shocks of sensation in teasing little rivers up and down her body. Her back arched and her other hand lifted. Another set of droplets raced her reactions and disappeared into the juncture of her thighs.

On the blanket, only Ewan’s throat moved as he tried to swallow and found it difficult.

Deidre trailed her fingers in the water again, leaving them until they were chilled by the stream. She brought them up, watching them stroke her breasts and imagining them as his hands. She traced her nipples, gasping when they tightened. She pinched them, wishing it were his lips drawing pleasure on the verge of pain from the rosy tips. Lifting her breasts, she felt the weight of them, reveled in the fullness of them, the way she knew he would. For a moment she forgot he was watching as she lost herself in the fantasy. His groan sounding too far away brought her back to their reality: him on the beach, her in the stream.

Fingertips found the stream again, returning quickly to her lips. She sucked the droplets from her fingers, licked them from her skin. His eyes found hers when she’d finished and she saw the strain in them. His hands were white-knuckled on the plaid. Deidre admired his control, but she was bound by no such restrictions.

As her hands trailed down her body, she put him out of her mind entirely. This was for her and her alone. He could watch if he liked, but he had no part in it. She teased herself at first, threading her fingers through the curls, tracing her nails across the skin of her thighs. She’d been too long wanting, though, and too long without a lover entirely, to tease for long. She traveled her fingers down, finding the wetness the river hadn’t created.

The first touch sent a rush of pleasure through her. This was what she needed. She stroked, sending another. Again. She found a rhythm that tortured and built at the same time. She let her neck roll to the side. Her enjoyment poured from her throat in sighs and moans. Quickening her motions, she drove herself in a building wave. She felt it rising and her voice rose with it. She rocked on her own palm, unaware of anything except the perfect moment waiting for her just out of reach. When it came, it came fast. It left with a shuddering that claimed her whole body in its wake.

Standing in the river, hand between her legs, she stood on unashamed display as awareness returned to her. A deep breath ended in a final moan of satisfaction.

She shoved her hair out of her eyes and splashed back to the shore. She didn’t bother putting her clothes on. She just lay down on the plaid, her head returned to his bicep, and sighed. “Much better.”

The last thing she saw before she settled into a deep and restful sleep was Ewan, rigid from head to toe like a man being burned alive.

***

Angus didn’t have to come get Ewan when it was his turn to take the watch—Ewan was wide awake. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her standing naked in the water, lost in the pleasure of her own hands. He’d known some bold women in his time, but they all paled in comparison to Deidre.

“What’s she done now?”

Ewan looked at Tristan’s bedroll. The boy was still awake and watching him.

“That’s a Deidre look on your face.” Tristan hoisted himself up to sit against the tree trunk. “She’s got a way of provoking people so it sticks.”

“That she does.” Ewan pulled out his dirk and started sharpening it. He had no intention of airing how she’d provoked him, certainly not with her younger brother.

“What was it?” the boy asked, unfazed.

“It’s nae for ye and I to discuss.”

Dejection immediately settled over Tristan’s face.

Ewan cursed himself. Could he do nothing right today? “We had a philosophical disagreement.”

“Philosophical?” The boy’s face scrunched in a thoughtful frown. “Did she lecture you? What did you do?”

Ewan went back to sharpening the knife. “I dinnae ken.”

“You tried to reason with her, didn’t you?” Tristan’s laughter hooted through the forest. “That never works. She’s got too much pride.”

That revelation would have been extremely beneficial to Ewan a few hours ago.

“Did she blow her stack? Do something drastic?” Tristan’s assumptions about his sister’s behavior were remarkably accurate.

“Aye.”

“You don’t need to worry about it then,” the boy said with a dismissive wave. “Pretty soon she’ll start feeling guilty and you’ll be in the clear.”

“I dinnae want—” Ewan couldn’t believe he was discussing this with a lad who barely needed to shave. “I dinnae want her to feel guilty. I just want her to nae be cross with me.”

“Well that’s simple then. Do something nice.”

It certainly sounded simple. Ewan had a hard time believing it would be that easy. “Your sister doesnae seem to have much use for niceties.”

Tristan shook his head. “She just wants you to think that so you don’t use it against her. She’s actually quite sentimental if you know what gets to her.”

“Such as?”

“Nothing flashy. Dee doesn’t trust flash.”

No flash. Ewan didn’t imagine he’d find much that would qualify as flashy out here on the road anyhow. “What else?”

“You gotta ignore her after you give it to her.”

“That doesnae—”

“Trust me. If she does like it, she won’t want you to see she likes it. Doesn’t like people knowing she’s susceptible.” Tristan’s posture and voice changed with the last word to mimic his sister.

Ewan suspected she’d advised Tristan on the subject of susceptibility a number of times. “Something simple and nice, that she can appreciate in private.”

“Yup. That ought to sort it out for you.” Tristan settled back into his bedroll. “Wake me up for breakfast?”

“Aye.”

Ewan wasn’t certain about the quality of the lad’s advice, but he was certain of one thing—throughout their talk he hadn’t once imagined Deidre naked in the river. Knowing the next few hours would be nigh unbearable without some sort of distraction, he set himself to thinking of something nice.