Dare to Love a Scot Read online

  “Well, you’ll not do it with me. I’ve a job to do, and people to look after. I may look a savage, but I’m a soldier, and now I’m working to become a dairyman, so me clan can have a future here in their own land.”

  “Sounds like you’re on a bit of a journey yourself.”

  “Aye, and there’ll be no time to dally, or spark an affair with a lass too naïve to see the danger in it all.”

  He stepped back from her, but Prim took hold of his jacket, halting his retreat. “A lass? Is that what you think of me? I see the danger, and I embrace it. I’ve suffered perhaps one of the worst things that can happen to a lass. But I’m still here, breathing, and wanting. My family thinks I should be falling apart at the seams for a man I never loved. I should be devastated. I’m ruined, my reputation in tatters. No doubt the gossipmongers are dragging my name through the mud as we speak, and all because a man jilted me. He tossed me aside, and I’m supposed to accept that fate as if it were a fatal wound and die? Live my life as a pariah, and never dream of my own happiness?

  “I will not. I’m free, Lachy. I don’t have to follow anyone’s path but mine now. And I’ve decided I want to dance with you. You made me feel something I’ve never felt before. You showed me a side of myself I never knew. Will you not take this journey with me? Are you so afraid of what could happen?”

  He snorted. “Aye. I’d like me jewels to stay in me body and not have your brother hang them from the castle tower.”

  Jewels.

  Of course men thought of their manly parts as a prized possession. But part of Prim was thrilled that someone would utter such a thing in front of her. For too long, she’d been sheltered.

  “I can promise no harm will come to your jewels.” She delighted in saying the word back to him. “I see no reason to involve my family in any of this.”

  “So, I’m a shameful secret?”

  “I feel no shame in your arms, Lachy. I feel free and wild, like a bird.”

  He stilled, his gaze moving over her face.

  Prim stepped closer to him again, slinging her arms around his neck. “When you’re with me you are free, too. There is no dairy, no clan. Just you and me.” She kissed his chin. “And lust.” She licked the edge of his jaw, just under his ear. “We’re two birds, soaring high above the clouds, the sun warm on our wings, our—”

  He caught her lips then, his tongue slipping past her words and scattering her wits. “Enough with the poetry,” he said against her mouth and then kissed her again.

  Prim lost all ability to speak. He pushed her back against the tree once more, hooking a hand under her knee and bringing it as high as her dress would allow, their bodies aligning and her nerves singing with the delicious friction.

  One thing became startling clear as he continued to ravish her mouth.

  Whether he knew it yet or not, he’d already surrendered.

  Chapter 9

  Lachy bit back a moan as he leaned into the delicious cradle of her body. His blood was heated, as if he’d had too much to drink, and it spread liquid lust through his limbs and clouded his brain with illicit images about what he could do with such a wild woman under the shelter of a willow. Her little pants drove him mad, as did the fluttery way she moved her hands around his shoulders, as if she couldn’t decide where to touch him first in all her excitement.

  His hand snaked under the hem of her dress as he braced her knee on his hip, his fingers sliding along her silk-covered calf with the slowness of a serpent.

  He felt drugged. Her scent, the softness of her skin, the sound of her breathy sighs, they all wove a spell around him, pulling him into the abyss of his desires, and holding him captive.

  What is it about this woman that drives me to madness?

  She was no practiced courtesan, or skilled widow, for that matter. But she’d taken his wits hostage, and he couldn’t seem to get a hold on rational thought. He shouldn’t be doing this. He was diving headfirst into a river too shallow, and he simply didn’t care, because the culmination of all this sweltering desire was going to be so all-consuming and satisfying that he didn’t care what terrible fate awaited him once the lust faded.

  All he wanted was right here in his arms, and for whatever misguided reason he no longer wanted to argue with, she wanted to be with him, too, throwing herself onto the fire, leaping into the abyss with him.

  Have I done something to deserve all this? Is this God’s way of apologizing for nearly killing me?

  He glided his hand higher, slowly, so she could protest if she wanted, and he’d stop, but she didn’t, and his fingers traced the edge of her garter before reaching her warm skin, which was a dozen times softer than silk. His heart pounded now as he deepened the kiss, angling his head so he could taste more of her, their tongues dragging across each other. She tasted like berries and sweet cream, wholesome and yet seductive.

  She was too perfect, or perhaps he was dreaming, and he’d wake up at any moment, alone, sweating, and more aroused than he’d ever been in his life.

  She tore her mouth away from his at last, gasping for breath, her eyes pressed closed. He drank in her face and her arched throat as her head fell back against the tree. He couldn’t resist a gentle nip at her neck. Her skin so tantalizing and warm, softly scented with woman and light perfume.

  Then his hand slid higher, his fingers spreading over the width of her thigh, closer to the dawning heat of her core, the beckoning sweet heat of her body. He could have groaned and spilled himself in his breeches just thinking of her wet passage clasping around him, but instead, he tempted the fates and moved his hand closer, his fingertips reaching her damp curls and slick skin.

  Suddenly she arched her back off the tree, her eyes opening to slits. Lachy returned to feasting on the delicate skin of her neck, as well as the curving orbs of her breasts. She panted into his ear, and it was a song of fevered lust and wild abandon.

  He pressed forward with his exploration, his mind blanking with rabid lust as he spread her wet folds, stroking the velvet flesh with reverence.

  She shivered in his arms, her knee lifting higher, her hips pressing into his hand.

  He claimed her lips again, distracting her with a soul-searing kiss while using his whole hand to spread her folds, his thumb circling slowly over her bud, his middle finger searching for the entrance to her heavenly body.

  He could tell she was struggling for control. Her kisses were distracted, and her hips undulated against his hand as she fought to lift herself higher against him.

  He toyed with the opening of her body, her breath hitching as he inserted one finger, gentle, even pressure earning him entrance into her molten heat.

  Then she let out a breathy cry, breaking the kiss, and burying her face in his neck.

  She was shaking now, and Lachy guessed this was her first real taste of release. She likely didn’t know what to do to claim it, so he steadied his rhythm, alternating between pressure over her most sensitive area, and the stroking of his finger.

  Her arms snaked around his neck as she came up on her toes.

  Lachy was so aroused, he was almost dizzy with it, but he did not expect to find his own completion today. He only wanted to see her explode—to feel her come apart in his arms. He suspected she was right on the edge of oblivion from the way her nails were digging into his shoulders.

  “Let it come. Let it claim you,” he urged her.

  She shuddered against him, the sheath of her body clamping around his fingers as she moaned into his neck.

  Lachy wished he could see her face, but having her held tightly against him was enough. He pressed his eyes closed, his body rigid like a steel beam, his pulse pounding in his ears so fiercely he thought he might black out.

  Then she went limp in his arms, and he let her knee fall, holding her as he turned to put his back against the tree and sank to the ground, cradling her in his lap. His legs felt like butter, his breath sawing in his chest as if he’d run a great distance.

  The dappled
light blinded him for a moment as the wind shifted the leaves, and then Lachy froze.

  Light flashed behind his eyelids, and for a brief second, he wasn’t under the tree with a sated woman in his arms anymore, but on the battlefield, pain ripping through his body, the screams of his horse filling his ears.

  Then a hand touched his cheek, and Lachy blinked his eyes open. He was under the tree once more, and when he glanced down at Prim, she was staring at him with a look of wonder.

  “Where were you?” she asked.

  “What?”

  She brought her hand to his chest. “Your expression just now, it was so tortured. Your heart is pounding.”

  “So is yours,” he quipped, but he couldn’t get a hold on his breathing.

  “You seemed frightened, Lachy.”

  He bit back the urge to lie. He stared down at her instead, taking succor in just looking at her, memorizing the rosy flush of her cheeks, the shimmery sheen of sweat on her brow. The soothing weight of her body anchored him. He’d been on the brink of a flashback of war, but her touch had brought him right back to the present.

  “I was in a nightmare for a few seconds. Back in La Haye Sainte, at the moment me horse was felled, and I was trapped beneath him.”

  His own honesty startled him. He’d never spoken to anyone about this, not even his fellow soldiers. There was shame in admitting one was scared on the battlefield. Fear was for women and children—not soldiers. Not men defending their country.

  Her brow furrowed. “That sounds terrifying.”

  “It is—or was.”

  “But you survived? How?”

  “Me leg was crushed, but I was pulled free.”

  He immediately felt lighter than before, the tension in his vision leaving him faster than it ever had before. And he could only see one reason why.

  The woman in his arms.

  She tucked herself against him once more, and without any prodding, Lachy spilled his soul to her, telling her of Falcon, his fierce horse with the storm-gray hide and streak of light on his muzzle. He told her not just about the battle of La Haye, but of the better times, too, the comradery between him and his men, and the humorous moments filled with pranks and silly games that bonded them, even when they marched toward certain death.

  Before he knew it, the sun had begun to set, and the afternoon was gone.

  “So, you haven’t ridden since?”

  Lachy eased her from his lap, and she stood. His leg had gone stiff, and cramped in protest as he tried to stand, leaning heavily on the tree.

  He would never ride again. He told himself it was to honor Falcon, but that was an empty lie. He’d tried to ride after his leg had healed, but before he could even set his foot in the stirrups, something had happened to him. He’d been transported back the battlefield again, reliving the moment of Falcon’s death, and every death that had happened around him while he’d waited for his turn to die.

  “No,” he finally answered her. “Me leg prevents it.”

  His mind prevented it, but he made do with his mule and cart.

  “What a pity. I couldn’t live without riding.”

  “You’d be surprised to find what you can live with, or without. Life has a way of proving to you what you need.”

  “I suppose,” she said, dusting off her skirts. “You’ve had far more experience in that regard than I have. I think I’ve been sheltered for most of my life.”

  “Consider yourself lucky, then.”

  She regarded him with a disconcertingly thorough gaze, as if she could see right inside him. “I do, Lachy. And you should, too.”

  He raised a brow a that.

  “We’re both alive right now, enjoying each other, and the beauty of this place,” she said, spreading her arms wide.

  He shook his head in amusement. “Not if I don’t get back to work. And you need to get home before your brother-in-law comes searching for you, and finds you with me.”

  She scoffed. “Erick is a gentleman. He’d never hurt you. I wouldn’t let him.”

  Lachy shook his head and turned away. He wasn’t so optimistic about his fate, should their affair be discovered.

  “When will we meet again?” she asked, coming to his side and looping her arm with his.

  His growing sourness instantly evaporated. He reminded himself that while under the willow tree, nothing else had existed but them. He deliberately forced thoughts of war and her brother-in-law’s capability to eviscerate him from his mind, and smiled down at her.

  “Tomorrow. I’ll go to Aberdeen in the morning, and return here in the afternoon.”

  She grinned. “Perfect.”

  She seemed so happy he couldn’t resist stealing another kiss—and a bit of happiness—for himself.

  Time with Prim was like a good tonic, or perfectly aged whiskey. He would have to be careful, though, lest he become addicted.

  Chapter 10

  Four days later, Prim lay back on a blanket in the shade of the willow and focused on the book she held. The words danced before her eyes, however, and she tossed it aside, sitting up and scanning the hill from which Lachy usually came. She clutched his tartan neckerchief in her hand, wishing upon it like it had the ability to summon him. She’d carried it on her person since the day she’d stolen it from him, the day they’d first kissed on the road to Aberdeen.

  For three afternoons he’d come to her, and they’d indulged themselves in kissing and touching, but he was holding back, and Prim was going to find out why. However, this day was different. Two of his clansmen and their families had arrived yesterday to work the dairy, and today the cattle had arrived.

  He was most likely busy getting everything in place, and probably didn’t have time to slip away. If that was the case, Prim would have to find a way to get to him after the day’s work was done. But how? His cottage wasn’t far, just on the other side of the walled garden. She could slip out of the house after dinner and no one would see her. But will I dare such a thing?

  Yes.

  These past three days had been the best in her life. He didn’t just make her body feel alive, he made her heart sing, and her mind whirl with the possibility that simply being with another person could be enough. She hadn’t dreamed she could be this full of joy, but here she was, floating, head buzzing like a happy bee in spring.

  And to think she’d been so close to missing this. If Peverel hadn’t jilted her, she’d now be married, and who knows what else. The thought terrified her. She could never have been happy with him, not like she was with Lachy. And yet she still knew so little of him. He didn’t like to talk about his family. Whenever their conversations moved too close to that topic, he changed it, or he began kissing her. Prim had talked endlessly of her sisters and growing up the youngest, but Lachy never shined a light on his earlier years.

  It was a distance between them, but she would cross it no matter what it took.

  She gathered up her belongings and packed her horse to return home. If he couldn’t come to her, she would go to him, but first she would check out the dairy and its new inhabitants.

  She slowed her horse as she drew close. Four redheaded children bobbed up and down excitedly, clinging to the fence as the new cattle ambled in the pasture. Prim dismounted and walked her horse forward to see what the little ones were so excited about.

  The eldest child turned to her as she arrived at the fence. A new calf held the attention of the other three children, its brown hide fuzzy and spotted, its long legs shaky as it stumbled around.

  “Goodness, how adorable!” Prim exclaimed.

  “Me da said he was born yesterday,” the eldest boy said.

  “And what’s your name?” Prim asked.

  The boy jumped down from the fence and doffed his hat. “Me name’s Callan Wilson, miss. These here are me brothers, Gregory and Dean, and our sister, Isla.”

  “A pleasure to meet you all. I’m Miss Everly.”

  “Aye, I figured,” Callan replied. “Me da says the duke has
lots of sisters about, and to keep me head straight.”

  The boy blinked and then flushed, kicking at the dirt.

  Prim bit back a giggle. “How old are you, Mr. Wilson?”

  “Ten and four, Miss.”

  “Ah, and will you work at the dairy, too?”

  “Me da says not until I’m six and ten, and finished me schooling.”

  “That’s very wise. Where do you go to school?”

  As far as Prim knew, there were no local schools unless one traveled to Aberdeen.

  “Me mum teaches all of us at home. She was a teacher before she married me da.”

  “Lovely.”

  Prim wondered how difficult it would be to start a school for the village. More workers would certainly return if their children had a local school to attend. She would ask Lachy, and if he thought it a good idea, then bring it to Erick’s attention.

  She watched the mother calf tend to her baby and usher it into the shade of a lean-to. She scanned the area for a tall, brawny Scotsman who made her heart melt, but predictably found none.

  “Can we name the wee babe?” the youngest of the little Wilsons asked, turning large cornflower blue eyes up to her brother and hanging on his arm.

  “He doesn’t belong to us, Isla,” Callan said.

  “What would you like to name it?” Prim asked little Isla. “Is it a boy, or a girl?”

  “’Tis a wee lad, Miss Everly.”

  Prim’s heart nearly bolted from her chest at the sudden sound of Lachy’s voice. She turned to find him just behind her, having come from somewhere else than the dairy. She bit her lip.

  Had he come to see me at our tree after I’d left?

  “Has anyone named him?” Prim asked, her voice breathy to her own ears.

  “Not yet. Have you any suggestions?”

  Prim nodded to the darling little girl. “Miss Isla would like the honor, if that would be all right.”

  Lachy removed his hat and squatted before the little girl. Prim’s stomach dropped to her feet, and then a hundred little butterflies started fluttering around inside it. The little girl dropped her brother’s arm to slide onto Lachy’s knee.