Highland Thirst (11 page)

For
as long as he could, Heming stroked her and kissed her, murmuring words of need
and desire against her skin as he tried to prepare her for his entrance.
Finally, knowing that he would spend himself upon the sheets like some untried
boy if he was not inside her within the next few heartbeats, he slowly began to
enter her. He was shaking from the strain of going slowly when all he wanted to
do was thrust into her and keep on thrusting until they both reached paradise.
When he reached the shield of her innocence, he took a deep breath and then thrust
forward as hard as he could, bursting through and settling himself deep inside,
and covering her mouth with his to catch her cry of pain.

Brona
fought the urge to shove the man right out of her arms and off the bed. That
had hurt. It took her a minute of thinking how disappointing this was before
she realized that he was not moving. After kissing her so that she would not
rouse everyone at the inn with her screech, he had buried his face in her neck
and was very still. His breath came hot and fast against her neck and the slow
caress of his hands began to restore the desire the pain of losing her
innocence had caused.

After
another moment of enjoying the way his mere touch could warm her blood, Brona
realized she felt no more pain. It was being replaced with a very strong need
for him to move. Cautiously, she moved her legs and wrapped them around his
trim hips. A soft groan escaped him as that drove him even deeper inside of
her. He thrust forward a little but stilled again. Brona had savored that short
movement and decided that was what her body was now crying out for.

Unable
to state bluntly what she wanted him to do, she tried to coax him into doing
it. She caressed his back, trailing her fingers down his spine until she
reached his taut buttocks. Feeling incredibly daring and wanton, Brona stroked
his backside and got exactly what she wanted. Heming groaned out a curse and
said something that sounded like he hoped she was not in pain anymore and then
he began to move with a force and speed that had her clinging to him and crying
out for more.

Brona
soon felt an aching knot form in her lower belly, one that grew tighter and
more urgent with each thrust of Heming’s body. Just as she started to fear that
something was wrong, that knot snapped apart and sent a shimmering ecstasy
throughout her body. She heard herself yell out his name and then lost herself
in the pleasure sweeping through her, only faintly aware of how Heming drove
himself in deep, stilled, and shuddered, her name a hoarse cry upon his lips.

Heming
sprawled on top of a still trembling Brona and marveled that he was still alive
and breathing. He was not as promiscuous as many in his clan, but he had had
some experience in lovemaking, had even thought himself in love once. Never
before had he felt anything like this, as if every part of him had been left
sated yet knowing that he wanted more, just as soon as he could move. Hearing
Brona call out his name as her body clenched around his had been intoxicating
and he knew he would never get tired of the feeling it gave him.

When
he was finally able to move, he staggered over to where the bowl of washing
water had been set. After washing himself clean, he rinsed out the square of
linen and returned to the bed. Ignoring Brona’s deep blushes and muttered
protests, he cleaned her off, washing away all signs of her lost maidenhead.
Tossing the cloth in the general direction of the bowl, he crawled back into
bed and pulled her into his arms, smiling faintly when she pressed her face
hard against his chest.

Heming
kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her hair. “I wish I had the words
to describe the delight ye just gifted me with, loving. I have ne’er tasted
anything so hot and sweet. If we didnae have to leave soon, I would be tasting
it again and again until neither of us could move a finger.”

They
were not pretty words or even words of love, but Brona felt moved by them. She
could sense that he spoke the truth and she found a great deal of satisfaction
in knowing that her lack of experience had not dimmed the enjoyment of their
lovemaking for him. Hearing him swear undying love would be even more
satisfying, but she was not fool enough to think one time in her arms would win
his love forever. They were obviously well matched in passion, but it would
take some work to make him see that they were well matched in many other ways.

Brona
admitted to herself that she did not want to lose him, did not want to lose the
fire that flared between them. It was not a good time to fall in love and she
deeply feared she had chosen the wrong man, but she was pretty sure that was
what she had done. All she could hope for was that somehow she could make him
see that she was perfect for him despite all she lacked and all of her faults.
If sharing passion as they just had would help accomplish that, then she was
going to learn how to be the best lover he had ever had. There was no promise
that that would work but at least she could comfort herself later with the
knowledge that she had done all she could to win his heart.

Heming
held her close as they both dozed while waiting for the sun to get low in the
sky. It felt good to hold her like this, his body still warm with satisfaction.
This was how he wished to spend the rest of his nights. His only concern about
mating with Brona was that she was a full Outsider. There could be a way to
make sure she lived nearly as long as he did, but there was no real proof yet
that it would work. Unfortunately, he was probably far beyond the point where
he might have been able to let her go.

When
they finally left the bed and began to dress, Brona said quietly, “I wish we
could stay here longer.” She suddenly blushed, fearing she had been too bold
but her embarrassment and concern faded quickly when Heming grinned and kissed
her.

“So
do I, loving, but when one is being hunted ‘tis ne’er wise to linger too long
in one place,” Heming said as he picked up her sack of belongings. “We can have
the comfort of a bed once again when we reach Cambrun.”

Brona
had no chance to say anything about that, not even that she thought it a very
poor idea to take a leman into his parents’ home, for he grabbed her hand and
started to lead her down the stairs to where the others would be waiting. Thor
greeted her the moment she stepped off the last stair. Laughing at his effusive
greeting, she took him outside to let him have a brief run.

Heming
watched her go, savoring a rather primitive sense of possession, then turned
around to find all three men scowling at him. “No need to look so fierce, my
friends.”

“Nay?
Ye just spent most of the day locked in a room with the lass,” said Colin.

“Nay.
I just spent most of the day locked in a room with my mate. She just doesnae
ken that fact yet.” He winked at the men and they slowly began to smile at him
in complete male understanding.

Seven

The
sun was just setting when Heming dragged himself out of the small cave he had
spent most of the day in. Since they did most of their traveling at night the
others also sought their rest during the day, but they rose a lot earlier than
he did. As he stretched he watched Colin and Fergus cook two rabbits someone
had caught while Peter and Brona played with Thor.

Although
he had held Brona in his arms for the last two days, there had not been enough
privacy for them to make love and he was aching for her. Even telling himself
that there was only one more night of travel before he reached Cambrun, where
he could find that privacy he craved, did not dim his aching by much. Heming
also cursed all the time he was losing in making her see how well matched they
were. He knew a shared passion was not enough to build a good marriage on but
he was sure it would help in winning her. Instead all he had been able to do
was hold her and steal a few kisses.

“Ah,
there ye are,” said Colin. “I had me some good luck and caught a few rabbits.
They are nearly ready for the eating.”

“Good,”
said Heming as he walked up to the fire and took a deep breath of the welcome
scent of meat cooking. One thing he was grateful for was that he could eat and
appreciate all sorts of food, unlike his father. “I will just go and wash and
then join ye for this feast.”

“Wash?”
Brona asked as she moved to stand next to him. “Is there a place to wash near
here?”

Heming
grinned and nodded. “It will be cold, for the water comes down from the
mountains.”

“Weel,
cold water to wash in is better than no water at all.”

“Come
with me then, but dinnae say I didnae warn ye.”

After
Brona grabbed a clean shift, they walked through the thick wood to a small,
rapidly flowing burn. She took off her boots and hose and tested the water with
her toes, grimacing at the bite of the cold water. There would be no welcoming
bath in this water but she felt sure she could endure it long enough to wash
off the dust of travel.

Just
as she started to unlace her gown, Heming walked by her and jumped into the
water. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts back together, for the man
had been completely naked. Brona suspected any woman would be stunned witless
by the sight of a beautiful man like Heming walking around naked. She was
surprised, however, that he had not made any loud protest as all of that bare
flesh had hit the very cold water; he seemed totally unaffected by it.

“I
cannae believe ye just leapt right in,” she said, as once she had stripped down
to her shift she carefully stepped into the water and crouched down to begin to
wash herself. “‘Tis but one step from being ice.”

“Och,
aye, it is cold, but I am nay so bothered by that. I willnae be staying in it
for verra long, however. This type of cold will eventually bother e’en me.”

“Does
that come from your mother or your father?” she asked, used to how he would
attribute each skill or gift he had to one or the other parent.

“Father.
Remember, my mother is descended from a cat.” He grinned. “I believe cats
dinnae like water.”

Brona
laughed even as she hurried back onto the shore to strip off her wet shift and
rub herself dry with the old blanket Heming had brought with him. Keeping her
back to the burn and wondering why she would blush so in front of the man who
had so vigorously bedded her only two nights ago Brona donned her clean, dry
shift. She shook out her gown and was just tugging it on when Heming stepped up
next to her and dried himself off. She tried not to look at him and failed
miserably.

“Ye
seem to lack modesty, Sir Heming,” she murmured, finally forcing her gaze back
to the matter of lacing up her gown.

He
chuckled and kissed her cheek before starting to dress. “Mayhap, but I do have
admirable restraint.”

“Oh,
aye?”

“Aye.
Here we are all alone and out of sight of the others, I am naked and ye were
wearing only your shift, yet I havenae thrown ye to the ground and had my
wicked way with ye.”

She
had to bite back a laugh. Part of her sudden good humor was caused by the proof
that he did still want her. Brona knew they had had little chance to make love
since leaving the inn, but she had not been able to stop herself from worrying
that once had been enough for Sir Heming. A man like him had to have had plenty
of lovers in his life and ones who were far more experienced and skillful than
she was.

There
had been several times during the past two nights she had heartily wished
Colin, Fergus, and Peter gone so that she could test Heming’s desire for her.
While she would prefer a big soft bed, the thought of Heming having his wicked
way with her right there on the bank of the burn was enough to have her aching
with need. She wondered exactly when she had become a wanton.

When
Heming stepped up behind her to finish lacing up her gown for her, she smiled
to herself. The moment he finished, he pulled her back against him and licked
the side of her neck. That sent a delicious shiver down her spine, followed by
a much stronger one when he scraped his very sharp teeth over the same spot.
When she wondered if he was in need of more blood, Brona was surprised that the
thought of letting him take hers again did not cause her even a twinge of
unease. In fact it made her shiver inside with a sudden spear of wanton heat.

“Heming?”
She was not really surprised to hear that deep husky tone in her voice, for the
way he was nibbling on her neck was making her feel very warm and needy. “Is
the taking of someone’s blood supposed to make one feel, weel, needy?”

Heming
pulled away from her neck a little so that she could not see him grin. Feeding
could be a very sensuous experience, but he had rarely shared more than blood
with the women he had fed from in the past. When there was no true feeling for
the person one fed from, it was easy to turn away after one was finished. But
if one cared for the person that sensual feeling swiftly flared into hot need.
The fact that it had in Brona pleased him a great deal. The fact that she asked
such a question with no more than simple curiosity, with no hint of unease or
disgust, pleased him even more.

Not
all Halflings felt the urge to give their mate a marking, that bite that left a
mark all other MacNachtons could clearly read, but he had felt it the moment he
had held her in his arms and known that they would soon be making love. Brona’s
apparent ease with the fact that he drank blood meant that he might actually
get to give her one and satisfy the craving he had felt since that night at the
inn. He knew she would not hesitate to let him feed from her and that was half
the battle.