Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dermot
Dermot cursed, his shoulders feeling the strain of rowing against the current.
“Dermot, we’re going backward. And that’s a thunder cloud over there. I don’t care to be on the water in a thunderstorm. We’ll be the quickest path for a lightning bolt to find its way to the ground.”
“Don’t yell at me, woman. I can see what’s going on around us.”
“You know I’m not fond of small boats. I prefer big ones.”
Dermot chuckled to himself and raised a brow at her as he aimed for the nearest beach on Mull. “What else do you like big, lassie?”
“Now I know you don’t have your mind functioning. It’s been many a day since I’ve been a lassie.”
“Not to me. You’re still as beautiful as you were the day you married Douglas.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “There are a few things that I prefer big, Chief Rankin.” Rut nearly giggled, but she managed to control it.
It was a good thing she kept herself busy staring at the clouds so she wouldn’t notice his growing cock.
He had to admit he hadn’t been this excited in a long time.
Rut MacVey had always been one fine specimen of womanhood, her curvy hips able to swish her skirts unlike any other.
He’d love to get a taste of everything under those skirts.
He’d dreamed of sinking his teeth into one of those hips once. Or perhaps he’d prefer a bite of her well-rounded bottom.
“Where are we? You know I have no sense of direction.”
He glanced over his shoulder, the beach not far. If he was correct, the MacClane holding was close to the beach. Tristan’s cottage would be fine until they could move over to Iona. And if he was lucky, they’d have to share a bedchamber.
“Is Duart Castle nearby? Can we not wait out the storm there?” Rut’s hood blew off as she turned toward the shore, looking for any nearby building.
The air carried a chill to him that he didn’t like. There was definitely a storm headed their way. That would delay them for a short bit.
And he had his mind on exactly what he could do to keep himself busy until then. Rut sat across from him, acting innocent. But he knew her well enough to know there was nothing innocent about Rut MacVey.
The waves were getting rougher by the minute, rocking the boat more than he or Rut liked.
“Make up your mind, Rankin. Get us on shore and stop dreaming about whatever the hell you’re doing. I’ll probably have a grandbairn in less than a year, and I plan to be here to see it. Or them. It could be one Rankin and one MacVey.”
“A Rankin lad and a MacVey lass,” he drawled.
“Always has to be your way, does it?”
He chuckled, ignoring her intent to prick his temper.
Dermot rowed for all he was worth, ignoring the woman to pay attention to the current and the wind. He aimed for the cove he thought was the best place to land. When he was close enough, he pulled in the oars and jumped out to pull the boat up onto the sand.
Rut shrieked as the boat nearly tipped, but he righted it, finally grounding it enough so he could help her out onto the beach. He knew better than to ask her to step into the water as he’d done, his best boots now soaked.
“Where are we? There’s no cottage here. And I’m not staying on the beach for a night, Dermot Rankin. You better at least find us a cave. The tide could come up and bury us and we’d be swept out to sea, never to be found—”
“Woman, cease your prattle, will you not?”
“Nay, I will not. I’m verra nervous, if you have not noticed. I don’t wish to die.” She stopped to face him, her hands now on her lovely hips.
“MacClane has a small cottage just over that ridge, directly next to the castle. I’ll carry you over it, if I must. I’ll see you safely there.”
“You better. I only agreed to come if you promised the trip would be quick and not challenging. I only wanted a nice dinner overlooking the sea. You know how I hate to spend much time in a boat. If I climb up that knoll, I’ll ruin my boots for sure.
Oh, Dermot. What have you gotten us into?
I may never forgive you for this. Lennox will be furious. ”
She glared at him, her gaze narrowing, her breathing coming faster. “Where exactly was that dinner supposed to be?”
“MacLean Castle.”
“We’re here then.”
“Nay, I meant Neil MacLean’s Castle on the mainland. He has a wonderful cook.”
“Across that water? Are you out of your mind, Dermon Rankin? I don’t care to go that far.” Her hands shook at just the thought.
Dermot moved close to her. “You might wish to calm yourself, lassie.”
“I’ll do what I wish to do.”
“I know what I wish to do right now.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“I’d like to throw you down on the sand and have my way with you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, her voice softening, her breathing telling him she was as excited as he was.
He stepped closer, the wind whipping both of their hair around their faces. He reached up and yanked at her pins, letting her long mane loose. He played with her hair, running his fingers through the silky strands until she panted, her hands now on his chest.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“What I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”
Dermot’s mouth descended on hers, his lips melding with hers until she parted them, allowing his tongue to do what he wished, and she met him with every stroke, just as he would have guessed.