Heart's Thief (Highland Bodyguards, Book 2) (13 page)

His tongue met hers in a tangle of velvety warmth when he deepened the kiss.

He dragged in a breath through his nose, growing drunk on the sweet, delicate scent of her hair and skin. Though he bore most of his weight on his elbows, he let his hips press into hers, grinding slowly against her.

One of her knees rose, giving his thigh access between her legs. A moan of pleasure quickly followed her surprised inhale as he pressed into her womanhood with his thigh.

His hand slipped down to her raised knee and gripped her hard, looping her calf over his hip to give him fuller contact with her womanhood. Just a slight shift of his hips and the hard column of his cock would grind against her heat, with naught between them but her thin shift and his cursed breeches.

A distant warning rang in the back of his mind. She was his enemy, a voice whispered, an English spy.

Was this still part of some game she played? Was she using him even now for her own aims?

And what of his own motivations? Did sating his lust for this complicated, mysterious lass help his mission? Or was he endangering himself and his King even as he plundered Sabine’s mouth, wrapped her leg around his waist, and ground his cock against her womanhood?

Sabine arched beneath him with a wordless moan, and the rational whispers were drowned out with a hot rush of fresh desire.

His hand found her breast, the pert curve rising up to meet his palm immediately. He could already feel the tight pebble of her nipple through her shift. She exhaled sharply and writhed beneath him at the simple touch.

Colin couldn’t help the hard-edged satisfaction that shot through him at her responsiveness. He wanted more from her, wanted to take her further into the dark waters of desire and pleasure that they waded in now.

He broke their kiss with a growl. Sabine barely had time to sigh in frustration before his mouth was trailing down her neck. Her head rolled back on the plaid as he dragged his lips to her collarbone.

She arched even higher when he brought his mouth to hover over the peak of one breast. He let a hot breath fan across the outline of her nipple beneath her shift. Then his lips came down and he laved the peak through the linen.

She gasped and cried out, her head tossing to one side and then the other as he rocked against her. Her knee tightened around his hip as she fell into rhythm with him, arching into his mouth and pressing her womanhood against his thigh.

Half-wild with need, Colin tore his mouth away and yanked down the front of Sabine’s shift. He ignored the sound of a few stitches popping as he let his eyes feast on the sight of her.

Every inch of her was creamy and smooth, except for the two rosy peaks of her breasts. She shivered, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the cool morning air or from the need he’d kindled within her.

Her eyes fluttered open then. Unspoken tension crackled between them like lightning.

“Do ye want this, lass?” Colin asked, holding her gaze as he ground slowly against her.

“Aye,” she panted. Her bared breasts rose and fell erratically with her ragged breath, her dark eyes burning with hunger. Something vulnerable suddenly flashed across her features. “Aye…but…I have never—I should not—”

She swallowed hard, and Colin felt her tremble beneath him.

Some final shred of sanity dragged Colin back from the brink he’d nearly tumbled over just then. Yet his body throbbed with undeniable need—and not merely need to release himself, but to take Sabine with him, to see behind the walls she’d erected around herself.

“I want to give ye pleasure,” he rasped, “and ye dinnae have to give me aught in return—no’ yer maidenhead, no’ yer touch. Naught.”

“And if I
want
to touch you?”

Hot anticipation shot through his veins straight to his cock. “Ye may.”

Her lashes fluttered down, but he froze, holding her motionless.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice hard and low.

She lifted her gaze, confusion swimming in her hazel eyes.

He needed to see her, to witness the truth in her eyes as he brought her pleasure. The thought that this might be some dangerous game she played still lurked in the recesses of his mind. But he also longed to watch her let go, to witness her vulnerability in her need for him.

Slowly, he lowered his mouth to one of her exposed breasts, never breaking their eye contact. As his tongue circled her nipple, her lids drooped but she held his gaze.

Her green-gold eyes flared with yearning as he ground his thigh against the crux of her legs once more. A breathy moan escaped her lips as she undulated against him.

Aye, one could fake attraction. One could flirt and smile with manipulation in mind—Colin would know.

But a woman could not feign the flush of desire like the one that pinkened Sabine’s breasts and cheeks. Nor could she feign the hot moisture that dampened her shift where his thigh pressed against her womanhood, or the instinctual arch of her back in preparation for his invasion of her body.

There was truth in her desire for him—he could see it burning in her eyes. Though she still shielded many secrets from him, this moment was real, pure, unadulterated with schemes and ploys.

Need carving deep into him, Colin reached for the hem of her shift. He longed to explore every inch of her lithe, creamy legs, but he could not manage to slow himself. He rolled slightly to free his thigh from between her legs even as his fingers rose to her womanhood.

When he touched her, she jolted, her eyes fluttering but never breaking contact with his.

“God, ye are so wet for me,” he hissed, his fingers tangling in her damp curls.

He slid a finger down the seam of her sex, parting her. She started again, this time gasping as he found that spot of pure pleasure.

He teased her, circling and stroking until her knees fell apart even wider and her hips rocked against his hand of their own volition.

Keeping a thumb on that bud of pleasure, he slid a finger to her opening and slowly began to ease into her.

Just then, her hand shot out, fumbling at his groin. When her palm cupped the hard length of his cock, he groaned and cursed.

Tentatively, she ran her fingers up and down his length, as if exploring his dimensions through his straining breeches.

The last of his self-control crumbled to dust in that moment. With another curse, he yanked down the front of his breeches even as he slid his finger all the way inside her.

They both inhaled sharply in unison. The pleasure of her bare hand on his cock blurred with the feel of her sheathing his finger in her tight, wet heat. Blood hammered in his ears, deafening him to her panting gasps and his own groans.

Slowly, he began pumping his finger inside her, all the while circling his thumb over her clitoris.

“Wrap yer fingers around me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, “and slide yer hand up and down.”

She obeyed immediately, matching the rhythm he set inside her.

Colin’s head dropped over her, at last breaking their gaze. His mouth found one of her breasts, and her whole body began to tremble as he worked his hand and tongue in time together.

He strained against the building pleasure, willing himself to hold back the tide of release even as her gasps and moans drew him closer.

Suddenly she twisted and cried out as she tumbled over the brink of ecstasy. She squeezed her thighs against his hand, her womanhood quivering around him.

He dragged up his head just in time to catch a glimpse of her pleasure-clouded gaze before he followed her in release. He shuddered against her hand, shoving himself hard along her palm one last time as the dam of his pleasure broke.

As he drifted back down to earth, the fog of lust at last began to clear. Sabine lay dreamily in a pillow of her own lustrous hair. Her cheeks and lips were pleasure-flushed, and her eyes drifted closed as her breathing began to slow.

Seeing her lying there in the folds of his green and blue MacKay plaid sent a stab of something primal through his chest.

He’d almost made her his, fully and completely.

In the increasingly bright light of the dawning day, he acknowledged the wisdom in not claiming her maidenhead. Even still, an irrational hunger to do so still lingered, despite the fact that he’d sated his most urgent lust.

Sabine sighed and nestled deeper into his plaid. A far darker sensation suddenly stole over him—a memory.

Joan lying in his embrace, wrapped in his MacKay plaid.

Her body welcoming him as he drove into her.

The sight of her draped in the green and blue MacKay pattern, but this time lying in the arms of his best friend.

Colin tried to shove the dark memories aside, but they still haunted him as he looked down at Sabine.

What did he truly know of this woman?

She was a spy and a master manipulator. Or was she a wounded, innocent lass caught up in her boss’s schemes?

His chest tightened with fear—fear of his desire for the lass. No woman had ever tied him in knots like this—except for Joan.

And what of his vow? Though invisible, the scar Joan had left would never heal. He’d promised himself never to let another woman so close to his heart, never to risk being taken in for a fool again.

Sabine’s eyes drifted open, gazing at him with unguarded trust.

“Get dressed,” he said. He hadn’t meant to be so curt, but confusion made his tongue sharp.

Surprise followed quickly by hurt flashed across her eyes before she dropped a veil shielding her emotions from him.

“Aye,” she murmured, untangling their limbs.

As they broke camp in silence, Colin struggled for an anchor in the storm of swirling thoughts within his mind. By the time they’d mounted Ruith, though, no clarity had come.

He spurred the stallion on, leaving the little copse where they’d shared that moment of passion behind.

All day Sabine had been acutely aware of Colin’s hard form pressed against her atop Ruith’s back.

All day she’d felt tension radiating from him just as strongly as his clean, piney scent, which clouded her thoughts with its masculine pull.

And all day she’d cursed herself for a damned fool.

This was exactly what Fabian had warned her about. If she lowered her guard, surrendered to her desire, and gave up her body to a man, he would use her and then discard her.

Fabian had been right. How stupid Sabine had been to waver in her loyalty and obedience to him. Aye, Fabian frightened her sometimes, and even hurt her when he was in one of his moods. Yet he had never turned his back on her, as Colin had after giving her the most exquisite pleasure she’d ever known.

Thank God she hadn’t surrendered everything to Colin. Mayhap if she had given him her innocence, he would be far worse than cold and distant now. Mayhap he would at last torture her, beat her, carve answers out of her flesh with her own dagger, which he still withheld in his saddlebag.

Even as the dark thought skittered across her mind, a soft, chiding voice rose against it.

Colin had already had every reason, every opportunity, to hurt her. Yet he hadn’t. She was his enemy, his captive, yet he had never once raised a hand against her, as Fabian did even at her slightest falter.

Something real, something frighteningly true had passed between them by the river that morning. She’d seen it in his sea-blue eyes as he’d held her rapt with his gaze, his touch. She’d seen it in the satisfaction he’d taken from her pleasure and the fulfillment of his own need.

But then he’d turned away, that stone wall dropping around him once again. Sabine tried for the hundredth time that day to swallow the burning hurt that rose from her chest into her throat, but try as she might, she could not dislodge the pain of his sudden distance.

She was being abandoned all over again, just like when she was a child. Only this time, Fabian wasn’t here to rescue her. She was truly alone now.

She doubted God listened to her anymore, but she sent a silent prayer from her heart anyway.

Please God, help me see the truth.

By the time Colin reined Ruith to a halt next to a little stream tucked between two thickly wooded hills, Sabine’s whole body was in knots of confusion. Though the day had started out sunny and warm, threatening clouds had moved in from the west. The air now hung heavy with the promise of yet another fierce storm as evening approached.

“We are almost to Portpatrick,” Colin said as he swung down from the saddle.

He reached for her waist, but she shied away from his touch, keeping her eyes downcast. After a long pause, he let his hands drop and stepped back, giving her space to awkwardly fumble her way down from the enormous stallion’s back.

“Is that where we are going, then?” she asked when her feet reached solid ground.

He stiffened, his mouth compressing into a firm line.

After a day of confusion, hurt, and tension, his refusal to give her even a faint explanation about what he had planned for her shattered her fragile resolve.

“I don’t understand why you can’t tell me where we are going,” she snapped. The sudden flood of anger was actually a relief from the cold silence that had settled over them all day.

“I cannot escape you,” she went on, motioning to her hurt arm, which hung loose at her side. Though only a bit of stiff soreness remained, she still hadn’t gained back much range of motion or strength. “And though you’ve ceased in tying me up, you’ve kept so far clear of the roads that I doubt I’d reach them on foot before you could hunt me down.”

Colin’s golden brows dropped forebodingly, a muscle working in his jaw as he pinned her with a narrowed gaze.

At his silence, her anger hitched higher. “You know very well that I won’t try to escape anyway!”

“Because ye still want to get at the contents of the missive I bear.”

“Aye!” she blurted, tears of frustration burning her eyes. What spell had Colin cast on her to make her feel so precariously close to losing control?

“So, we are to speak the truth at last.” His voice was low and deceptively level.

“Why not?” she shot back, her voice rising dangerously with emotion. “Aye, I want that missive. You know I am a thief. You know what I am after.”

“Do I?” he snapped. “Forgive me, but I cannae tell what ye want at all or what ye are doing.”

He took a step toward her, and instinctively she backed up until she bumped into Ruith’s flank. Thunder suddenly rolled in the distance, an ominous warning of the approaching storm.

“What were those murmurs for me to keep touching ye this morning?” he went on. “Was that for the missive as well?”

“Aye—nay!” Anger blurred with confusion in her churning stomach. “I-I don’t know!”

He took another step forward, his large form practically pinning her against Ruith. A fierce storm raged in his eyes as he held her with his gaze.

“That is the problem, lass,” he ground out. “Ye dinnae ken. Ye dinnae ken why ye saved my life. Ye dinnae ken why ye let me touch ye.”

“And what of you?” she fired back, lashing out to deflect the hurt that nigh choked her. “You tie my hand one moment, then you kiss me the next. You eye me suspiciously and guard that missive as if you’d give your life for it, then you touch me as if you
cared
—”

Her throat closed, but not before the worst possible word slipped out. Sabine swallowed hard, her face growing hot.

Colin stilled before her, an exhaled breath escaping between clenched teeth.

“Ye’re right,” he said at last, another rumble of thunder chasing his words.

For a long, heart-wrenching moment, Sabine believed he meant that he did in fact care for her. But then he went on.

“I
would
give my life for that missive. Ye had me fooled there for a moment, lass. Nay, no’ with yer schemes and ploys to get to the letter. Ye fooled me into believing that we were the same.”

She shook her head slowly as if she could make him stop, but he went on.

“We both have our missions, dinnae we? We’d both use whatever means necessary—including seduction—to fulfill our assignments. But the difference is, at the end of the day, I ken where my loyalties lie. I fight for the King of Scotland and for the freedom of my country and people. What do ye fight for, Sabine? Coin?”

His sharp eyes cut into her, examining her with keen intelligence. She could no longer muster the energy to mask the tempest of emotion that undoubtedly played across her face. Out of well-worn habit, she reached for the chain around her neck, seeking its comfort.

“Nay, no’ coin, for I believe yer master keeps most of it,” he said, his gaze slicing into her. “For his approval then. For a kind word from him, despite the fact that he hurts ye.”

Her hand leapt away from the necklace as if it had burned her, even as her stomach dropped to her feet. How had he discerned so much? At the words that cut right to the truth, right to her heart, something cracked within her.

“Fabian cares for me!” she shrieked, her voice breaking. “He takes care of me. He would never abandon me—not like
you
!”

She shoved against his chest as hard as she could, but he barely budged. Tears blurred her vision as she looked up at him.

In that moment, she didn’t know if she wanted Colin to disappear, never to tangle with the delicate threads around her heart again, or for him to wrap her in his steely embrace and never let go.

Through her tears, she saw his granite features crack as he gazed down at her. Pain flared in his vivid blue eyes even as his face softened.

“Sabine,” he whispered, his voice a low caress. “I-I’m sorry, lass. I shouldnae have—”

A branch snapped behind her. Colin’s head jerked up, his whole body suddenly going taut.

“At last,” a familiar voice rang through the forest beyond Ruith.

Sabine spun, her gaze darting over the stallion’s saddle into the thick woods all around.

The speaker emerged through the trees a stone’s throw away, two huge shadows looming behind him.

“
Miles
?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Miles stared at her flatly as he walked his horse a pace closer. The shadows on either side of his shoulders materialized behind him into two enormous warriors with identical grins curving their large mouths.

“Fabian sent me,” Miles said softly.

Relief crashed through her. She barely noticed the hard, fat drops of rain that began to fall around them.

Fabian
did
care for her. He would never abandon her.

But as Miles and his two brutes continued to advance slowly, some instinct sent fear shivering up her spine.

Fabian said he’d never come for her in the field. And why would Miles need two warriors by his side if he was only retrieving her?

“Miles, what—” she began, icy premonition racing in her veins.

Before she could ask her question, he turned to one of his thugs.

“This time it doesn’t have to be clean. Just make sure they’re both dead.”