Chapter Seven #2
Once outside the walls, Torrin ran toward the east. She had already disappeared from sight, difficult in this flat landscape near the shore, but gorse bushes grew here and there in small groves.
Once he passed a group of them, he saw her plaid-covered head disappear behind another cluster of bushes.
He was determined to catch up to her without her seeing him.
She wasn't traveling toward the village, and he needed to find out what she was up to.
They must have walked for more than a mile when he lost sight of her. Muttering curses, he glanced this way and that, then ran forward. The rocky shore and a drop off lay ahead. Had she gone in that direction? Saints! Had she fallen off the cliff?
His heart rate soaring toward the sky, he quickened his pace.
Once at the edge, he saw it wasn't a cliff, but simply a steep bank of sand about thirty feet high.
Beyond it was a small golden sand beach with black boulders protruding here and there from the sand.
He lay down and belly-crawled to the edge so she wouldn't notice him.
Aye, indeed, she was descending a rock and sand path along the edge of the bank. What in blazes was she doing here?
He scooted sideways and hid himself better behind a clump of thistles. He was wicked for spying on her, but he had to protect her. Not that he truly expected anyone to be all the way out here, a mile or more from the village and farther than that from the castle.
She strolled along the wee beautiful beach, which was enclosed and cut off from other areas of the coast. Cliffs jutted out on each side, making it very secluded.
He could understand why she loved this place.
'Twas one of the loveliest spots he had yet seen.
To add to its appeal, a slight breeze blew in off the sea, but 'twas a warm summer day.
Jessie perched on one of the boulders and gazed out to sea. Was she daydreaming? He hoped she was thinking of him.
Moments later, she got to her feet and walked farther along the shore, her gaze searching the tops of the cliffs and sand bank. He ducked. Had she seen him or sensed his presence? He kept his head down and hoped she didn't notice his plaid.
She hastened to the far end of the strip of sand, which was more concealed behind the large rocks. Though she disappeared from sight, he hesitated to crawl closer to the edge for fear she might spot him.
She appeared again, wearing only her white smock. Hiking it to her knees, she ran into the water.
"Saints," he hissed. She was going swimming? He chuckled, but forced himself to be quiet. Not that she could hear him over the waves crashing into the boulders below. What an adventurous spirit she had. It only made him fall harder for her.
How lovely she looked, her fiery red hair streaming down her back as she waded deeper into the water reflecting the blue sky. She disappeared behind a black boulder.
A swim would be perfect right now. While she was hidden from view, he took the opportunity to slip down the bank along the narrow trail she had used earlier.
He hastily removed all his clothing and left it on the dry sand behind a rock, then crept between the boulders.
The sun-warmed, wet sand felt good against his bare feet.
Then the edges of the cold surf washed over his toes.
He often took swims in Loch Assynt, so he was accustomed to cold water. It appeared Jessie was, too.
He waded into the water and peered around the last boulder. When her back was turned, he slid beneath the water and swam underneath a wave. When he emerged twenty feet out, she happened to be facing him. Her eyes wide, she screamed and swam toward the shore.
"Jessie! 'Tis only me," he called.
But she didn't listen; she kept moving quickly toward the beach. Once the water was shallow enough, she ran, probably difficult wearing that smock. She tugged its hampering weight from around her ankles and quickened her steps. He wished she would remove the blasted garment.
He followed her, splashing through the shallow surf.
"Let's go back in," he called over the roar of the waves.
She stopped and turned to face him, her wide-eyed gaze dropping to his groin. She sucked in a sharp breath and covered her eyes. "Put on some clothes, MacLeod!"
Halting ten feet away, he grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. "'Twould be much better if you'd simply remove yours.
" Although he did appreciate this view. Her wet smock had become more transparent, and her hard, rose-colored nipples showed through the material.
But he wasn't going to tell her that. Sexual heat rushed over him despite the cool breeze blowing over his bare, wet skin.
"Are you mad?" She faced the other direction, grabbed her arisaid from the stone and attempted to belt the plaid about her waist.
"I think you are the one who is mad, wearing a drenched smock beneath your other dry clothing. Makes no sense. You should remove it all and lay it on the rocks to dry."
"You followed me!" she accused, refusing to look at him.
"Aye. I had to protect you, after all. MacBain could return." Although he doubted the bastard could return this soon. Torrin's two men and the MacKays who had escorted the MacBains south had not returned yet.
"I need no protection."
He shook his head at her stubbornness. "You didn't mind that I came to your rescue last time."
"Leave me be." Carrying her shoes and three sheathed knives, she strode away from him along the beach, dodging the massive black boulders which protruded from the sand, but he followed.
She glanced back, catching his eye, then started running.
Abruptly, she tumbled onto the ground with a short shriek.
"Saints! Are you hurt?" He knelt by her, one knee drawn up to conceal his tarse, so she would at least face him.
She turned to her back and leaned up on her elbows. "My foot! I stepped on something sharp."
"Och. Let me see." He lifted one of her bare, sand-covered feet. 'Twas a long, slim and elegant foot, much like the rest of her body.
She sat up, glaring at him. "The other one."
"Ah." He examined her other foot but saw no sign of blood. "Where does it hurt?"
"My heel."
"I see no injury to it. I think you'll live."
She narrowed her eyes, her gaze skittering over his naked chest, then looked skyward. "Where are your clothes?"
"Over there somewhere, but it's much nicer without them today. You should try it. The sun is warm. How often have you gone naked outside?"
"Never." She lowered her voice. "Well, except when I swim sometimes."
"Indeed? You swim naked?"
Her blush deepened. "A couple of times."
"I'm shocked, m'lady," he teased with a smile. Saints, how he loved the image in his head of her swimming naked like a goddess of the sea. "You are a wild and brave lass, are you not?"
She shrugged. "Some would say wayward."
"I like a wayward lady."
At the moment, the way he knelt, his leg hid his shaft, but the problem was it was rapidly rising to its full height. She made him hard so quickly, so easily, every time he was in her presence.
"Don't give me that look, MacLeod," she said firmly.
"What look?"
She pointed at his eyes. "That one."
Could she see the raw need and desire written upon his face? He hoped so. She'd driven him mad for the past several days. "I can't help it," he said in a low tone. "I hunger for you."
Jessie swallowed hard as she held Torrin's dark, passionate gaze. In the bright sunlight, his lashes halfway hid his deep green eyes, but 'twas clear they reflected profound sensuality. His sculpted muscles were lean and elegant. He appeared iron-strong but not too bulky.
She had seen his shaft moments ago, just for a trice, when he'd emerged from the water, before she'd slammed her eyes closed.
She could not see that part of his anatomy now, unless she moved closer to him.
Which she was definitely not going to do.
What gall he had to gallivant naked in front of her.
At the moment, his eyes bewitched her and she did not want to look away.
Besides, his body aroused her. She glanced down at his chest and the defined muscles there.
The rippled ridges of his abdomen intrigued her.
She had only seen glimpses of naked men or lads before, some, like MacBain, in half darkness.
But observing Torrin now, in the daylight, so close…
he was a divine work of art. She found herself wishing she could touch him, run her fingers over those muscles and see how hard they were.
He was like a god of the sea who had just emerged from the depths. His dark, wet hair brushed his broad shoulders.
His eyes turning predatory, he slowly moved closer, crawled along beside her and captured her mouth.
Giving up the fight with herself, she lay back on the warm sand and slid her hands around his neck into his cool wet hair.
He tasted salty, like the sea, and his tongue delved boldly into her mouth.
Her body quickened as if awakening from a long sleep to feel the bright sunlight burning into her… and Torrin burning into her.
Aligning his body with hers, he slid his hand around her derriere and dragged her tight against him. Oh, saints! He was hard. She knew what this was all about; she'd lain several times with MacBain during their trial marriage, but never had she been ravenous for him as she now was for Torrin.
One of his bare legs slid between hers and he lay half on top of her. His mouth and body felt divine on hers as if something about the two of them was perfectly harmonized.
His kisses were seduction itself. Not too forceful, but still highly confident, his tongue flicking against hers, teasing her. He knew what he was doing, and he was so good at it.