Highlander's Redemption: The Sinclair Brothers Trilogy, Book Two (17 page)

Her words struck
him, causing his chest to squeeze again. He couldn’t believe he had been able
to speak what had been growing inside of him the entire time he had known her. Even
more astonishing, she felt the same way about him.

Her lips parted
again, but he was done talking. He needed to feel her, taste her, communicate
to her how much he longed for her in a way that didn’t involve words. Without waiting,
he brought his mouth down on hers in a searing kiss.

If Jossalyn had
thought that Garrick’s words would undo her with the flood of emotion they
caused, nothing could prepare her for his kiss. It branded her, seared her to
her core with its passion and intensity. She let herself be washed away in the
torrent of sensation and emotion.

His hands were
everywhere at once—in her hair, on her waist, running up and down her back. She
registered vaguely that her hands, too, seemed to have a mind of their own. They
gripped his shoulders, circled his neck, tangled in his hair as she pulled
herself closer to him. Even pressed fully against his chest, with their mouths
locked, she wanted more. She wanted to be completely intertwined with him.

She had tried to
deny how much she longed to be with him, then tried to live with the thought of
only having a short amount of time left to be in his presence. But now that
they had spoken honestly with each other about their feelings, she was
overwhelmed by the strength of her desire. She was tired of denying her true
feelings, and tired of forcing herself to settle for what little she could have
with him. Now she wanted it all.

She moaned a
little against his mouth, impatiently tugging at the ties at the neck of his
shirt. She didn’t know how to voice her longing, so she tried to communicate it
to him with her body. He seemed to understand completely, for he deepened their
kiss, caressing her tongue with his in a sensual rhythm that sent heat shooting
through her limbs.

Suddenly, though,
he broke off their kiss. The air flooding against her damp lips startled her,
and she searched his face for an explanation. He seemed to be struggling with
something, for his eyes were stormy with passion but his brow was furrowed.

“Lass, there’s
still something…”

Worry crept in at
the edges of her passion-hazed mind. He had said that he accepted her goal of
helping the Scottish rebellion with her healing skills, and he had proclaimed
that he cared and longed for her, just as she did for him. What else could
there be?

“I’m not some
courtly knight,” he said with difficulty. “I have done things that may be hard
for you to understand, things that you may not be able to accept.”

She felt like a
cold bucket of water had just been dumped over her head. He had alluded to his
work as part of the Scottish rebellion several times, and she already knew that
he was a warrior. Was there some horrible secret he was keeping?

“What do you
mean?” she said cautiously.

He scraped a hand
through his loose, dark hair. “I mean that I am a killer and you are a healer,
lass. I long for you so badly, but I fear that my black soul with sully you.” He
sat back on his heels, as he spoke, putting space between them.

“Have you done things
like we saw back at that cottage?” Her stomach twisted at the thought, but she
tried to keep her voice level. She could indeed never accept such acts, and if
he was saying that he was truly as bad as whoever did those things, she would
have been sorely mistaken in her impression of him.

“Nay!” he said
quickly. “I would never stoop so low.”

Relief washed
through her. She could trust her intuition about him. But then why was he
trying to put distance between them yet again? They had struggled enough just
to be able to voice their mutual feelings. What did he think he was saving her
from?

“But I am not so
different from the English, or any other soldier. I have killed mercilessly. I’ve
shot men in the back, I’ve hunted them like animals, and I’ve done so without
regret.” His voice was tight and low, and his face had taken on a hard,
defensive look. Suddenly she realized what he was doing.

“So you are
punishing yourself for the things you’ve done by trying to convince me that you
are evil?”

He struggled for a
moment before speaking again. “I don’t think of myself as evil. I believe in
the Bruce’s cause, and I would fight to the death for freedom. But I’m not a
hero either. And you deserve a hero.”

“I thought you
said that you wouldn’t doubt me again.”

This brought his
head up sharply. His gray eyes bore into her, his expression unreadable. “What
do you mean, lass?”

“You said before
that you wouldn’t doubt me, and yet here you are, questioning my feelings for
you and my judgment of your character.”

“What are you
saying?”

“Have you ever
murdered innocent women and children as part of your missions for the Bruce?”

“Nay, and I never
will,” he said vehemently. The look of disgust twisting his face at the thought
confirmed his words.

“And you have
never…used force against a woman?”

“Nay.”

“Have you sought
out innocent farmers or laymen on your missions?”

“Nay…usually
leaders in the English army, the ones making strategic decisions. But also
soldiers sometimes.” The anger and shame were fading from his voice, to be replaced
by cautious curiosity at her line of questioning.

“Have you tortured
men, drawn out their suffering, or maimed them intentionally?”

“Nay.”

She leaned forward
and placed a hand on his forearm. “My brother has done all of those things, and
probably more that I don’t know about.” The words were hard to say, for the
thought of her only living family member being so horrendous and cruel twisted
her stomach, but she had to make him understand. “I have known bad men,
Garrick, and you aren’t one of them.”

He inhaled
sharply, his eyes suddenly flooding with pain. “You mean…you don’t care that
I’ve killed, and that I’ll keep killing for the Bruce?”

She paused,
choosing her words carefully. “What I truly wish for is peace,” she said
finally. “I hope that some day you no longer have to fight for Scotland’s
freedom, that you no longer have to carry the burden of taking lives for the
cause.”

He sank his head
into his hands, and she couldn’t read his expression for a moment. But then he
raised his head again, his eyes searing her with their intensity and depth of
emotion. “How is it that you understand me so well, that you accept me and my
flaws, and at the same time make me better?”

His words
shattered her. “You deserve forgiveness, Garrick. And happiness.”

“I don’t think I
deserve
you
at all, lass. But you’re right,” he said ruefully, “I said I
wouldn’t doubt your judgment.”

“And I want to be
with you,” she said, emotion tightening her voice. “I am choosing freely, and I
choose you.” She had already given him her heart. Now she wanted to share her
body and her pleasure with him.

He seemed to read
her mind. “Are you sure? There would be no going back, and nothing is certain
about our future. The war could go on, or something could happen…”

He didn’t have to
say it, but he was warning her that he could be hurt or even killed. But she
had worked as a healer long enough to know that nothing was ever certain about
the future. She had seen healthy, strong men fall ill and die in a matter of
days, and she had seen the weak and sickly recover and lead long lives. The
only thing she could do was seize happiness when it came. And she was happy
with Garrick, despite everything they had been through together.

“I’m sure.”

He rose slowly and
extended a hand to her to help her off the ground. His eyes were locked on her,
their intensity burning into her. Just as he pulled her closer to him, a
thought popped into her head.

“What about Burke?
What if he comes back?”

A little smile
played at the corners of his lips. “He does have impeccably bad timing,” he
said.

She didn’t quite
manage to suppress a nervous giggle. Everything they had said, everything that
had passed between them, and the thought of what was about to happen, were all
swirling inside her, creating a heady maelstrom of anticipation.

He bent and
grabbed a stick from the ground, then quickly scrawled out several words in the
dirt.

“
Nemo me impune
lacessit
…that’s Latin for ‘no one attacks me with impunity’ isn’t it?” she
said, reading over his shoulder.

“Aye. It’s a phrase
that’s been floating around the Bruce’s camp, and has lately spread to some of
the other clans getting involved in the rebellion. It’s a motto of sorts, a
reminder that Scotland is like a thistle—you can’t grab us without at least
getting a handful of thorns.” He smiled wolfishly at her, and she had to
suppress another giggle.

“If Burke comes
back before we do, he’ll know that all is well when he sees this,” Garrick
said.

Suddenly he seemed
to forget all about Burke and his message, for he dropped the stick and turned
the full power of his gaze on her. His eyes were hungry, and she abruptly felt
like she was his mark, that he was homing in on his target. It thrilled her to
be so desired by this hard yet good-hearted man. Reading the heated look she was
sending back at him, he took her by the hand and started walking off into the
woods.

“Where are we
going?”

“To find some
privacy,” he said. “I want to do this right.”

Another shiver of
anticipation went through her. They were going to make love, to fully sate
their desire for each other—if it could be sated. All of their previous kisses
and that passionate night by the creek had only increased her hunger for
connection with him.

She tried to
ignore the tiny stone of fear sitting in the bottom of her stomach. She had
been told that she would bleed, at least the first time, and that it would be
painful and unpleasant every time. But she reminded herself that no one had
ever told her that there might also be longing and pleasure involved, only that
she shouldn’t want to do it, and that there would be consequences if she did. She
was beginning to realize, though, that her nursemaids had hidden much from her.

She wished
suddenly that her mother were still alive, or at least that she had a close
friend to confide in. After her parents’ death, however, her brother had kept
her isolated and ignorant. But he was no longer in control of her. She was
making her own choices now, and her heart told her that it would be right with
Garrick.

He wove through
the forest quickly, and she hurried behind him, her hand in his. His ability to
move swiftly and smoothly still caught her off guard, but at the moment she was
grateful for his confidence and speed in traversing the forest. The woods had
changed slightly as they traveled farther away from the Borderlands. Now the
forest surrounding her was comprised more of pine trees rather than oak and
yew. The ground had also become rockier and more hilly, reminding her that they
were headed toward the more rugged northern regions of Scotland.

He halted suddenly
next to a large rock outcropping surrounded by trees. She didn’t see anything
particularly noteworthy about this specific rock face, but then he pushed his
hand through a clump of shrubs, parting the leafy branches with his arms, and a
hollow cavity appeared in the rock. He held back the shrubbery and she squeezed
past him into the cave. He followed her in, and when he let the branches go,
they snapped back into place, concealing the opening of the cave.

It was dim inside
despite the bright midday sunlight on the other side of the shrubbery. The temperature
was cool, the smell of stone and dried leaves hanging in the air. The top of
the cave was high enough for her to stand upright, but Garrick had to stoop
slightly, even at the mouth where the ceiling was highest. The little hollow
space in the rock only extended a dozen feet or so, narrowing as it went back.

She turned from
her perusal of the cave and nearly bumped into him. He had silently moved in closer
to her. Her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest, and her skin felt flushed
and itchy despite the cool air of the cave.

Slowly, he reached
for her hair, undoing the ribbon at the tail of her braid. Most of her hair had
already come loose, but his hands wove through the remains of her braid,
pulling her tresses free and sending them cascading wildly across her back and
shoulders.

“So beautiful,” he
murmured to himself, letting the strands slip through his fingers. Then he
turned his gaze on her face, and the rapt hunger in his eyes nearly made her
gasp. Before she could, though, his mouth descended on hers in a penetrating
kiss.

She tried to match
his caresses and teases, but he overpowered her, taking control of her lips and
tongue. She surrendered to both of their passion, thrilling in the feel of his
strength and powerful desire. He slipped a hand around the back of her head,
holding her in place and tangling his fingers in her loose hair. He squeezed
his hand slightly, tugging on her hair, and she gasped at the tingling
sensation that shot from her scalp to the spot between her legs, which was
already aching in anticipation.

He pulled her
closer, his other hand reaching behind her to the ties running down the back of
her dress. Her breasts felt tight and needy, and their contact against his
chest was only making it worse—or better.

He tugged
distractedly at the ties as she rubbed her chest against his with a little
moan. That seemed to drive him even wilder, for he ripped his lips from hers so
that he could grip the material of her dress at the shoulders and tug it down. Her
dress passed her breasts, then her hips, and was soon in a puddle on the floor
of the cave.

The combination of
her heated skin and the cool air brushing against her thin chemise sent a
shiver through her. But it didn’t last long, because he pulled her to him
again, and she was enveloped in his warmth and masculine scent. She could feel
the heat of his hands through the material of her chemise as he moved over her
waist, back, and eventually to her bottom. He gripped her, pulling her against
him, and she could feel his hard length pressing into her stomach.