Susan Johnson (19 page)

She squirmed against his coercing hand and they both felt it—slick, liquid pleasure, skittish, taut nerves, tumultuous desire.

“You won’t hurt me. Robbie, please, I can’t wait, you’re going too slowly, I’m going to die if you—”

“I’ll keep you from dying,” he promised. “Look at me, darling, look.” He allowed her to slide down a marginal distance. And when she reluctantly opened her eyes and gazed down at him, he said, “Just for the first time. After that”—he allowed her the next small descent—“you’ll be fine.”

“I’m fine
now”
She struggled against his hold.

But he could feel the reluctant yielding of her pulsing flesh. “A minute more, darling, please,” he soothed her, not sure himself that celibacy was the sole cause of his extreme arousal.

Less than a minute passed, every sensation goaded almost beyond bearing, overwrought, seething, time seemingly suspended, stalled, Robbie’s deliberate penetration the rapt focus of every fevered nerve, cell, body, and brain.

Perhaps they were both mindless when he rested at last where he most wanted to be, when she beheld the finite limits of ecstasy, when the warmth of the sun no longer touched them and the scents of the flowering meadow disappeared. Neither remembered Robbie’s wounded arm, nor their disparate views on his convalescence. Only flagrant pleasure held sway.

Half-breathless, he paused. “Are you—”

“Greedy,” she whispered, her eyes ablaze.

“How unusual.” His smile was audacious.

“So take me where I want to go.”

And he did, in a driving rhythm that urged, incited, heated, tantalized, bringing them swiftly to a wild, fierce, scorching orgasm that left them reeling.

Her hands braced against his chest, panting, she barely held herself upright, while he was grateful for
the stability of his grassy bed as his heartbeat thundered in his ears, his breath rasped in his throat. Once his pulse rate returned to normal, he brushed his hair back from his sweat-sheened temples, and opened his eyes to the perfection of the world—a world that required his darling Roxie in close proximity.

“You saved me,” he murmured, satisfaction and contentment in his voice.

“You saved us both, my bonny lad,” she whispered, her orgasm still a lingering bliss in her mind.

“You’re a damned fine rider.” His smile was benevolent.

“With the best of studs under me.” Her mischievous gaze shone through the tangle of her curls.

“The only stud you’re allowed,” he growled.

Pushing herself upright, she swept her unruly hair away from her face. “You mean the only one I want.”

“That, too,” he acknowledged. “We can define the boundaries of ownership in the next few hours of riding.”

“Hours?” A wanton heat flared in her eyes.

“Hours,” he softly affirmed.

“Notice I’m on top,” she playfully murmured.

“Only temporarily.”

In the course of the summer afternoon, their various differences were disarmed, mollified and appeased in the most enchanting of ways. And later, in the unfolding of amorous events when Robbie supplanted her in the superior position, she only gazed up at him from the languorous depths of dissolute sensation and murmured, “How strong you are.”

“The better to fuck you, my lady,” he said.

T
HEY WERE SITTING BEFORE THE FIRE IN THE
parlor when they first heard the sound of horses; a second later, the battle cry of the Carres rang through the night. Robbie dropped back into his chair with a smile. “Holmes must be back.”

“With food, I hope. I’ll never make a cook.”

“You were more resourceful than I, but Holmes actually cooks very well.”

Moments later, Robbie and Roxane stood on the small porch, watching a wave of mounted men ride into the meadow. “They do give one a sense of security,” Robbie noted with a satisfied smile.

“Yes.” Roxane felt more relieved than she’d expected. She’d never been hunted before, nor in personal danger. The large number of Carre troopers was reassuring.

Very shortly, the table in the dining hall was crowded with Carre clansmen, and everyone was exchanging greetings while the liquor decanters were passed around. Roxane sat beside Robbie, her hand in his, his frequent smiles in her direction obvious to all. Every one of his kinsmen understood the extent of his involvement with the beautiful countess.

“So tell me,” Robbie said, once all the explanations of their arrival from Holland were discussed, “what are Johnnie’s plans?”

“To save your ass, at the moment,” Adam answered with a grin.

“He worries too much. I don’t need saving.”

“Protection, then,” Munro said. “Argyll will be
pushing hard for vengeance. Your brother’s called out the whole force.”

“Seriously?” Robbie glanced over the rim of his glass, his dark gaze mildly surprised.

“A precaution,” Holmes explained.

“Against?” Robbie sat up straighter.

“His discussion with Argyll.”

“Good.” He leaned back in his chair. “Argyll needs a better understanding of his position in Scotland. He wasn’t sent up here as God.”

“I think Johnnie intends to point that out to him,” Munro noted.

“Along with a proposition he might find lucrative,” Adam added.

Robbie glanced at Roxane and smiled. “I sense a lessening of his interest in us.”

“I’m sure he’ll be willing to compromise for a suitable sum,” Munro murmured. “So rest here until your arm is healed, and Edinburgh should be a friendlier town on your return.”

“Are the court hearings
en train?”

“Johnnie came prepared to release the merchant and burgess funds from your bank in Rotterdam, in return for a favorable decision.”

“He wants to participate in the Parliament, doesn’t he?” Robbie intuitively queried.

“He’s been deluged with pleas from those in the Country Party.”

“Now that Hamilton is out for bids with France and England.”

Munro grimaced. “Exactly.”

“So I’m on holiday?”

“We’re all on holiday,” Munro replied.

Robbie’s eyes narrowed slightly and he grinned. “I have this many warders?”

“Johnnie thinks you might be impulsive.”

“And he never has been?” His tone was light with mockery.

“He’s hopeful his experience might save you from a difficulty or two.”

“Listen to him, Robbie,” Roxane murmured.

“We do have to go back for Roxane’s children soon, though.”

“Why don’t we escort them?” Munro proposed.

“Or I could just go,” Roxane suggested.

“Not while Argyll is still in the country.” Robbie’s voice was brusque.

“When do you have to leave?” Munro recognized the determination in Robbie’s voice.

“In eight days.”

“Then we’ll have a short holiday,” he genially replied. “Are the fish biting?”

In the following days, regardless of the large guard in place, Robbie and Roxane were left alone. Robbie would spend an hour or so with his kinsmen, very early before Roxane woke, keeping abreast of the latest developments in Edinburgh, with Johnnie’s daily messenger apprising them of the current news. But he made it clear he wished privacy, and when Roxane’s breakfast was prepared, he’d bring it upstairs himself and wake her with a kiss.

They often rode in the morning when the dew was fresh on the ground and, taking a picnic basket with them, would lie on the grassy hillside high above the lodge and pretend they were alone in the world. They
found another small lake, clear and cold, where they swam and treated Robbie’s arm and made love, sleek flesh against flesh, the heat of their bodies making them indifferent to the chill of the water. They treasured their time together, for both understood that, no matter how wishful their dreams, the uncertainties and dangers of the outside world would soon intrude.

They slept near the mountain lake the night before they were to leave for Longmuir, wanting to be alone, aware their brief idyll was coming to an end. With the morning light, they knew they must return to the city.

“Argyll should be brokered out of our lives soon,” Robbie noted, trying to assuage Roxane’s apprehension. “Once he returns from his tour of the west, Johnnie intends to meet with him. Our lives should be more pleasant then.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Roxane murmured, her head cradled on Robbie’s shoulder. Lying in a bed of fur rugs, they were toasty warm despite the cool upland air, the stars brilliant in the velvety blackness of the sky.

“It’s not a dream, darling.”

“I hope you’re right.” She’d never forget Argyll’s blunt menace that night. Nor Queensberry’s sinister threats. And when powerful men were pitted against each other, the outcome was never certain.

“I’m right,” he firmly said. “So we should set a wedding date.”

The days at the lodge had been so filled with contentment, she no longer found her reservations against marriage so compelling. “You’re sure you want to take on my wild brood?”

“I’ve been sure much longer than you, darling.”

She’d vowed after Kilmarnock not to have her children suffer another stepfather, but Robbie was so unlike Kilmarnock, they could have come from different worlds. “I’m very tempted,” she whispered, understanding her love for him was certain even if little else was.

There was no ambiguity in his love for her. He’d risked his life in coming back. “Tempted is good enough for me. Let’s say next week.”

“Next week?”

“Say yes, or I’ll keep you prisoner in this upland meadow.”

“That in itself is tempting,” she playfully murmured.

“I’m waiting….”

“Yes,” she whispered, knowing he wasn’t a man to be denied, knowing as well the secrets of her heart.

His exultant cry rose into the starry night, echoed over the hills and vales, set the dogs baying at the lodge below.

Made her laugh.

“I’ll make you happy, my darling Roxie,” he promised with joy and tenderness. “For a million years …”

A
NGUS IS SICK. HE SHOULDN’T BE TAKEN ON
a long journey,” Amelia pleaded. “At least leave him with me, if you must take the other children.”

“Hell be fine,” Colter Forrestor replied, flicking a speck of dust from his coat sleeve. “Send along all the servants you wish. Where the hell is that coach? I don’t have all day to play nursemaid to Roxane’s brats.” Scowling, he gazed down the lane to the stables.

Roxane’s children were clustered together on the gravel drive at Longmuir, dressed in their travel cloaks, their eyes large with fear, tightly holding each other’s hands. Jeanne held little Angus close beside her, trying to comfort him when he coughed, his pudgy face pinked with fever.

“At least let me go along,” Amelia cried. “I promise to explain to Argyll that I insisted. He won’t blame you.” She desperately wished David was home to deal with Roxane’s arrogant brother. But he’d gone hunting, and wasn’t expected back until tomorrow.

“Look, Amelia, my answer was no the first time you asked, and the second and twentieth time, too. Now get the hell out of my way or I’ll have you carried into the house.”

A small, thin man, he hadn’t the physical strength to carry her himself, she unkindly thought, but recognizing the futility of her efforts, she went to offer what comfort she could to the children. Talking to them in low tones, she promised she’d follow them into the city and see that their mother was immediately informed of their abduction.

“Why is Uncle doing this?” Jeannie asked for the tenth time, as if hoping the latest answer would offer more solace.

“He’s with the English, like Argyll. So they follow orders from the ministers in London. But I’ll find a way to get you back with me as soon as I reach Edinburgh. Try not to worry, and see that Angus is kept warm and has plenty to drink.” Grief-stricken, terrified herself, she tried not to alarm the children, and went on in what she hoped was a calm voice. “Colter is just following orders. We’ll have this all straightened out as soon as can be.”

“Mama doesn’t like Colter,” Jeannie murmured.

“He’s a gutless cur,” Jamie muttered. “I should challenge him to a duel.”