Chapter 8
William had competed in many throwing competitions in his life and had lost only once before, to a one-eyed man from Skye. It taught him never to underestimate his opponent.
He certainly didn’t with Kinsey.
She was the kind of lass to look a challenge in the face and laugh. That confidence showed itself now in the upturn of her chin.
He indicated the stump and stepped back. “Best of three. Bonny lasses throw first.”
Several men made lewd jests, which she responded to with a sharp look. The tavern kept a small bonfire burning for patrons who went outside for fresh air. It was by its flickering light that she aimed at the stump.
Kinsey pulled back her arm, paused for a brief moment and released the dagger. It sailed through the air and thunked into the center of the tree stump. A triumphant smile lit her face.
Someone whistled in appreciation.
William was next. He fingered the handle of his dagger, a gift from his father. One that he didn’t plan on losing. It had been given years ago before his father had lost faith in him. Before William had stopped trying.
The dagger was a reminder that no matter what William did, he might never be good enough again for his da. And so, William had to be good enough for himself.
He tossed the dagger. The action was simple but still caused a flash of pain to flare up at his side where the arrow wound had been stitched. He would need to be mindful of that.
The blade he’d tossed sank into the wood directly beside Kinsey’s blade.
They reclaimed their weapons.
“Nice throw,” he said.
“Yers was no’ so bad either.” She winked at him, almost flirtatious. “And by the end of the night, that pretty dagger will be mine.”
He shook his head. “I’ll be kissing ye senseless.”
She laughed. “Senseless?”
He merely lifted a brow and gestured for her to throw. She took a longer time aiming, but still managed to hit the stump. He used the opportunity to employ less force for his throw in an attempt to favor his wounded side.
The crowd watching them now wasn’t merely William’s men, but also several of the patrons from the tavern and a couple of serving wenches. The blonde one openly stared at him with interest.
After his last shot, she edged her way through the cluster of people toward him, standing far too close. Her forearm was warm and damp where it pressed against him and she smelled of ale. “Whether ye win or lose, I’ll keep yer bedroll warm tonight,” she said in a husky voice.
But it didn’t matter how low she tried to speak; her brazen promise carried in the night air. Kinsey stepped forward and pulled back her arm to throw her dagger.
“Ye’ve no’ ever had a woman who can give pleasure like me,” the serving wench purred.
He doubted that but would have been more than eager to try her claim—if he’d never met Kinsey, that was. When she was around, all other women seemed to fade. They didn’t have her fire, her glow.
She released her blade, which veered off, nicking the side of the stump before falling into the thick grass.
William extracted himself from the serving wench’s insistent company. “I’ve another prize in mind.” He gave her a smile to ease his rejection and joined Kinsey.
He lifted his dagger a little higher for her to see. “If I land this dagger in the stump, I win.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Best of five?”
In truth, he would play this game all night with her. He enjoyed their playful banter as they competed and the way her eyes glinted with their friendly rivalry.
Although he knew deep down, he couldn’t best her. He hated the idea of crumpling her confidence, especially in front of the men. He was too skilled and never should have presented the challenge in the first place.
However, he must have hesitated too long as he decided how best to miss and make it appear accidental, for she lifted her brow. “Don’t do it…”
He blinked down at her innocently.
Her eyes narrowed, far too perceptive for her own good. “If ye lose on purpose, I’ll never forgive ye.”
“My side.” He cupped his hand over the wound.
She smirked.
He sighed in exaggerated resignation and leaned toward her, breathing in the sweet, delicate scent of her. “Then prepare yerself for a kiss, my darling Kinsey.”
Though he’d said it in jest, the reality of it slammed into him. He would be able to press his mouth to hers, to sample her warm, sweet lips, to relish the feel of her body against him. His loins stirred. Suddenly it became much more difficult to focus on planting his blade in the tree stump.
He steadied himself, took aim and let go of his dagger. It missed the center with genuine error, but still landed in the stump.
The men around him cheered and whistled. The blonde tossed him a look that said it was his loss and disappeared back into the tavern. He didn’t care. He’d lost nothing. In fact, he’d won.
He turned to Kinsey, who regarded first his dagger, and then him.
“It appears ye’ve won,” she said.
He couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “It appears I have.”
She bit her lip and stepped closer to him. Her focus drifted downward to his mouth.
“Kiss,” Alec shouted.
The other men took up the word in a chant.
Kinsey’s breath quickened. As ever, she didn’t back down. Instead, she lifted her chin while closing her eyes. Determined to face the kiss.
Resigned.
That was not the way one ought to be kissed.
She had to want it as bad as him. To need it.
“No’ in front of all ye.” William faced his men. “I canna have ye stealing my wooing tactics.”
“Are ye worried about competition?” Someone shouted, and everyone laughed.
“Ales on me.” William nodded in the direction of the tavern. “Off with the lot of ye. But dinna stay out too late. We’ll be leaving in the morn.”
“Aye, Mum,” someone else called, and more laughter rose.
William rolled his eyes playfully and shepherded them all inside.
He returned to Kinsey, who appeared as sheepish as he’d ever seen her. Or rather never thought to see her.
She bit her lip again, her fingers twisting against themselves. “Ye didn’t have to do that.”
“I’ll no’ kiss ye in front of those louts.” He offered her his arm. “No’ when it made ye anxious.”
“I’m not anxious.” She accepted his arm and slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.
He knew her to be a resilient lass, but her hand was delicate where it lay against his large arm.
The heat from her palm whispered through his sleeve and to his skin beneath.
Suddenly he wanted to kiss her then and there, to nudge her back against the tavern wall and let his hands and mouth roam over her until she cried out in breathless whimpers in his ear.
His cock swelled in his trews.
He guided her back to camp. “Kissing isna for public exhibition.”
“Oh?” She was teasing him now, having recovered her poise.
It made him grin. “Aye, kissing should be private. A quiet, suspended moment in time between a man and a woman, hearts racing, breath coming too fast, bodies hot and alive with passion.”
“Like that?” Her whisper coaxed his arousal.
“Aye,” he agreed. “Like that.”
They were near the camp, close enough to smell the earthy scent of whatever Duff had concocted from the forest for supper. A reminder they’d been better off at the tavern.
“We need to be somewhere we can be alone.” He searched the still woods around them, cast in the subtle silver glow of the moon, and stopped. “Somewhere like here.”
“Here?” She turned to him, her eyes wide and innocent.
“Have ye ever been kissed before, Kinsey?”
“Of course, I have.” She answered so readily that he knew she was lying.
“Did ye like it?” He ran his fingertips down the delicate smoothness of her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw.
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t reply.
“Ye’ll like my kiss,” he said in a low tone. “If ye want it.”
“After ye rightly won?”
“I’ll no’ take what isna freely given.” He trailed his finger under her chin, gently tilting her face upward. Moonlight washed over her fair skin, making her luminous. “Do ye want me to kiss ye?”
She swallowed.
“I willna expect ye to become my leman over just one kiss.” He skimmed his touch over her bottom lip.
She exhaled a small laugh. “I’d imagine not.”
He stepped toward her, near enough that his right foot went between hers and slipped his hand farther to cup the nape of her neck. “Do ye want me to kiss ye?”
Her eyes flashed with that boldness he liked so much. “I want ye to stop asking me and just do it.”
That was all the answer he needed, and he lowered his head to hers.
Kinsey’s heart pounded with a force that threatened to punch it through her chest. Sir William’s palm was warm where he cradled the back of her neck in his large hand. There was a spiciness to his scent, something utterly masculine.
She lifted her face to his and closed her eyes, unsure what to expect.
She’d lied about having been kissed. She’d never bothered to waste time on dalliances. Not when there were so many other things so much more important.
His lips closed over hers, tasting of the sweet ale they’d consumed. His mouth moved, as if he were sampling first her top lip, then her lower. Pleasure tingled over her skin, thrilling and visceral. She made a small sound in the back of her throat. A whimper? Or a moan, mayhap?
She couldn’t think straight as he continued to brush their lips against one another.
Her pulse thundered in her ears and throbbed an unfamiliar heat between her thighs.
It embarrassed her to have such a powerfully intimate reaction to this man.
But it also filled her with a longing to find out if it could go deeper.
And how much more so.
His tongue teased over her lower lip. She parted her mouth in surprise, and his tongue brushed against hers. This time the sound in the back of her throat was not so small.
He gave a low growl, and his other hand found her waist, drawing her against him as his kiss deepened further still. It was a primal, hungry need that echoed her own lust.
Senseless.