Chapter 17 #2
“If you’re still here at solstice, I’ll be in Bedlam,” he muttered.
“You appear to be weathering the storm very well, Mr MacPhearson,” she replied loftily.
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
She glanced at him, wondering, but he was looking up at the sky again, now with his brow wrinkling up.
“Speaking of storms, those clouds are gathering faster than I’d expected,” he said. “We should head back home.”
Cat considered the grey masses pillowing up near the peak. “There weren’t so many even a quarter hour ago, were there?”
“No. That’s a storm, for certain.”
They circled back around, but didn’t make it far before fat drops of rain began to spatter on the grasses around them, and hit Cat’s face and the horse’s glossy coat.
“How far are we from Kinlochlie?” she asked, turning her head to see Thane, who was grimly assessing the sky.
“Too far. And we can’t ride home through what’s coming. See the green of those clouds? That’s a bad sign,” he called. “We have to wait it out in shelter.”
He pulled his horse hard to the side, and gestured for her to follow suit. “There’s a bothy nearby. If we hurry, we can make it before the worst of the storm meets us.”
Cat wheeled about, but her horse was already shying, uneasy. Thane reached out and took the reins.
“I’ll guide us. Just hold on,” he told her.
Cat clung to her saddle as Thane directed both horses toward a smudged line of trees, their leaves tossing in the wind, alternating between silver and dark velvet green.
Cat wiped raindrops from her face, trying to see their destination as they rode closer and closer to the edge of the woods.
What shelter did Thane see that she could not?
They rode into the woods, slowing as the path narrowed. Then Thane pulled the horses to a stop. He leapt down, and hurried to help her. Cat was grateful for his strong grip as he lowered her to the slick ground.
“Where are we going?” she asked, staring up into his green eyes.
“Just past those trees,” he said, nodding his head to the right. “Let me secure the horses.”
He did so, then took Cat’s hand to lead her on a narrow track between shaking oaks.
Then she saw it.
The bothy was a tiny structure, but solid, made of stone walls and a well-thatched roof. Cat stepped in with a sense of relief. “It’s dry,” she said, inordinately pleased to discover it was true.
“Aye, it’s designed to keep all weather out. Anyone stuck on the mountains can use it.”
“So we might have company?” she asked.
“Doubt it,” he said with a snort. “Only fools let a storm sneak up on them.”
“But it will pass quickly?”
“I hope so,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. Again.”
He looked slightly abashed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Why not? We don’t have a good record when we’re thrust on top of one another,” she pointed out.
“You weren’t watching when you barreled down that hallway with that silly bird,” he said defensively.
“You practically tossed me into that carriage in the park, like I was a sack of potatoes.”
“A sack of potatoes would know better than to leave a protected location to give a damned speech for women’s rights!”
“Potatoes don’t give speeches for anyone’s rights!” Cat retorted.
Thane stared at her. She stared back, realizing the absolutely inanity of their words.
Before she knew it, a giggle escaped her. And another. And then she was laughing helplessly at her own silliness. Thane smiled, then he laughed as well.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Catriona Ross,” he said at last.
“I am sorry,” she confessed. “Maybe you should vow to protect potatoes instead of me.”
“It would be infinitely easier.”
“Until you get hungry.”
He shook his head, grinning. “You look like a drowned kitten. Like on the ship.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” She looked down at her soaked hair and clothes. He had a point. She shivered, feeling the clinging wool against her skin.
He shrugged out of his coat. “Here. You need it more than I do.”
“But you’ll be cold. There’s no place for a fire here.” The bothy was truly minuscule, making a croft look palatial in comparison.
“I’ll live. I’ve been through worse.”
“I imagine.”
She peeled off the jacket of her riding habit, and found that her cotton shift was still relatively dry. She pulled his coat on and warmed immediately as the leather enveloped her. If only it didn’t smell distractingly of him as well.
He took her habit and gingerly draped it over the roughhewn bench set against one wall. “Sorry there’s not a fire. At least it could drive some of the damp out of your clothing.”
“We’d have to set the whole bothy on fire to do that,” Cat said with a laugh. “And only fools burn their own roof.”
“Aye, well, I’m already proved a fool for not watching the weather. I’ve been gone too long,” he added, cursing under his breath. “I forgot how fast the weather turns in the Highlands.”
“You’ll remember next time,” she assured him.
“What good does that do you?” Thane reached out and squeezed her plait, which had come unpinned. Water dripped onto the floor. “I’ll be accused of drowning you.”
“I’ve seen your people and how they view you. You’ll be hailed as a hero for saving my life.”
He lifted the plait, and tried to wind it about the top of her head again, to no avail. Cat tugged at his arm, saying, “Leave it. It’s ruined anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice lower. “I don’t want to ruin you.”
“You haven’t ruined me. Just my hair…”
Thane’s hand let go of her plait and instead cupped her neck. Cat went still, her skin tingling at his touch.
He slid his hand to her shoulder, under the coat and above the thin fabric of her shift. His eyes were hooded, his mouth slightly open as he grazed the curve of her shoulder.
“Cat,” he said, the word barely more than a moan. “Say you’re cold.”
“I’m cold,” she told him, her temperature soaring as she took in his expression. Now he was looking at her, his eyes drinking her in. He pushed aside his coat, letting it fall so she couldn’t claim it as protection.
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m so cold,” she whispered, her hands reaching up to his chest. His shirt was damp enough to cling to his body, and she thought he should take it off.
Thane gave her a wry smile, and she realized she’d said those words out loud. He pulled the shirt over his head, and dropped it over her habit on the bench.
“Now nothing will dry,” she muttered.
“Stop thinking about things, Cat,” he ordered.
He pulled her closer, and she went willingly.
If there was any chance that she might have taken a chill before, it was gone.
There was just too much Thane around her to let any cold in.
The sight of his bare chest also made her blush in a way that would surely create steam if it went on much longer.
Then Thane bent his head, and kissed her just past the neckline of her shift.
Cat closed her eyes, feeling his mouth against her skin there, and shivered for entirely different reasons.
“Are you still cold?” he asked, his breath in her ear.
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, whatever you need to hear to keep doing this.”
His laugh was a wave of warmth breaking over her, unlocking a need she’d kept inside for a very long time.
She turned her head and kissed him back, her mouth skimming his neck, feeling the scrape of stubble as she went. When she reached the smoother skin under his ear, she bit down.
He swore, and one arm circled her waist and pulled her closer to him. Cat’s breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples hardened from the previous chill. Now, with exactly one layer of fine cotton lawn between them, Cat knew he felt everything. And he seemed to like it.
Still kissing her, Thane shifted slightly to angle one leg between her own, and the way he held her meant she was practically riding his thigh, and there was something so good about it.
She rolled her hips, seeking more of the pleasure spreading through her body, into her belly and up into her chest.
The first time he’d kissed her, in his study the night they arrived in Kinlochlie, Cat thought she’d finally understood what it truly meant to feel desire.
That had been nothing.
Now she wanted so much more. She lifted her mouth until she found his. Tongues tangled in a fight no one needed to win, and Cat sighed as Thane’s hands kept finding new ways to soften her and mold her closer to him.
There was something so rewarding about making him moan whenever she flicked her tongue against his skin. She was glad he wasn’t wearing his shirt anymore. She ducked her head and pulled back enough to lick his chest, curling her tongue at his nipple, wondering what that would do.
It made him swear. She thought it was a swear—it was in a language she didn’t know.
He slid one hand into her hair and pulled her head back so he could see her face.
“You’re torturing me.”
“Does it hurt?” she asked, knowing that wasn’t what he meant.
“An ache like you wouldn’t believe.”
He shifted again, and she felt the hard length of him pressed against the apex of her thighs. Her eyes widened as she realized just how aroused he was.
“Oh. Does it…does it really ache?”
“In a way that makes me mad for you.” He moved enough to let her body glide over the ridge, and couldn’t stop a groan of pleasure. “You telling me you don’t feel an ache too, kitty cat?”
She was aware of…not an ache, exactly, but a need to soothe, to press and roll and massage until something broke through. “I liked it better when we weren’t talking,” she whispered, feeling too shy to explain what he was doing to her.
“But my kitty cat loves talking,” he said with a teasing grin.
He moved again, his leg pressing into her, his hand sliding to her bottom and lifting her higher onto his thigh.
Cat rolled her hips once more, seeking that momentary rise as his muscled thigh and the hardened length slid against her tender core.
“Thane,” she gasped, aware of, yes, a growing ache that was impossible to deny.
Then a bright shaft of sunlight cut through the space, thanks to the gap made by the slightly open door.