Chapter 9
Of course she could feel it. The light touch of his rough fingertips running lightly on the skin of her thighs was the most sublime sensation Meria had ever experienced in her life.
She remembered her first sip of wine, how it had made a flood of warmth course through her body and caused her head to spin.
Only this was different. The touch of his fingers as he ran his hand up her leg made her feel as though that tight cranny between her thighs had taken the sip of wine—because it flooded with heat.
Meria’s chilled lips formed into a circle of surprise.
It was no shock that she would react to a man’s touch as she had.
She knew enough about the natural order to understand that a man and woman cleaved their bodies and souls together when they fell in love.
Meria was in shock that she would react in such a manner to this man like that.
Did she not hate him with every fiber of her being?
He was curt and rude and a complete brute for taking her toward a cruel fate.
That was what Meria’s mind believed at any rate, but it seemed as if her body had grown a mind of its own.
Her initial instinct—the well-bred and ladylike part of herself—wanted to grab his hand and stop its upward progress.
But she could not. It was too good. Even unaware of the different stages of stimulation as she was, Meria knew she had gone from a state of frozen distress to a state of urgent arousal in one perfect fleeting moment.
How was just one touch able to evaporate all the angry thoughts and resentment out of her head and replace it with a throbbing desire?
Her hand gave an involuntary movement. Meria only just managed to suppress it.
She had been about to run her fingers through that rumpled red hair of his!
No, even worse, she wanted to push his head down so he could brush his lips against her thigh.
The circle her mouth made let out a gasp, and it was no longer shock. It was raw desire.
“I feel ye. I can feel yer touch…” she breathed.
When she said it, a happy grin spread over his face, and Meria could not stop herself from responding to it.
He truly was the most handsome of men. Maybe it was those dark slanting eyebrows of his that were etched like wings above his emerald eyes.
She almost cried out and tried grabbing his hand when he gave her thigh one last caress before sliding the trews over them.
Kerr said to her in a sort of stilted, formal tone, “It’s good that ye can feel the touch of me fingers; it means yer limbs are no’ damaged. Now, put yer arms around me neck. I’m going to lift ye up so I can slide the breeks up.”
Meria had a fair idea that she might be able to stand up by herself now.
No woman could sit so close to a roaring fire with someone like Mister Kerr kneeling in front of them, running his hands along their thighs, without experiencing a considerable amount of heat rise up inside them.
She still wanted to ride this sensation as far as it would take her—it was so exquisite and new—so Meria wrapped her arms around his neck.
A flurry of emotions hit her as she tucked her face into his neck and felt him pulling the trews up and over her bare bottom.
Suddenly, he was no longer a tall, strong, stunningly handsome man who was in the employ of her future husband.
He had become someone whose presence had a physical effect on her in every possible way.
“Mmm…” Meria could not help the sound of approval coming out of her mouth.
He smelled so good. As she tucked her face into his neck, her senses were assailed by the scent of wool and…
his hair. It had layers of spring water and fresh air and some indefinable musk that seemed to compel her approval.
Unable to resist, Meria nuzzled Kerr’s neck.
He placed her down gently onto the log and drew away to stand up. “There’s naught like a nice warm pair o’ woolen breeks to keep out the cold, lass.”
In for a penny an’ in for pound. I’m never goin’ to have this chance again, so I may as well seize the day.
Kerr was standing in front of her with his back to the fire.
Meria reached out her hand and rubbed it over the wool trews covering his legs.
“I can feel yer skin is warm under the weave.” As she spoke, Meria ran her fingers upward.
It would never cease to amaze her how hard and well-developed the muscles there were.
But before her hand could move too far up, Kerr grabbed it and moved it back to her lap.
“Yer fingers are a wee bit icy, lass.” She could see he was trying to be lighthearted about moving her hand off his leg, but Meria knew better. It made her feel powerful and excited to see his face burn with the same heat that coursed through her veins.
He walked around to the opposite side of the fire, saying, “Let’s see what supper we can make for ourselves. Ye’ve had some bread… P’raps some small ale and dried apples to go with it?”
She nodded and watched as he sifted through the contents of his saddlebags to find the items. His hair glowed with a dark fire as he bent closer to the ring of stones that made up the hearth.
Night had fallen outside, and the only light they had came from the flames that licked at the large logs Kerr had dragged in.
Meria pulled his plaid closer around her shoulders and shifted her feet where he had covered them with his fur cloak. “Kerr, please can ye move me log a wee bit closer to the fire? Me back’s freezin’, and me front is hot.”
He glanced up, a worried expression on his face.
“Aye. But first, take a pull o’ the water flask I’ve been warming against the stones there.
It will fill ye with warmth and strength.
” Meria did as he asked but privately thought that Mister Kerr moving closer to her would make her far warmer than a drink of water ever could.
The sip she took was surprisingly invigorating.
It made Meria say, “How many times have ye been isolated on a mountain pass, Kerr? Ye seem to take these icy conditions in yer stride.”
He came to sit down beside her after moving behind her back and pushing the log slightly forward. Kerr ran his hand down her back to feel if she was cold, then seemed to be satisfied.
“Och, I’ve been over this pathway a few times an’ then some. ’Tis the quickest way ’tween Calvin land an’ the coastline over which Mac—Laird MacTavish rules without encountering enemies.” He sighed and continued. “But as ye can see, I’ve never done it with a lass before.”
She shifted closer to his body. “Ye dinnae have to answer me, Mister…Kerr, but I would like to ask ye the question anyway.” Meria nibbled a slice of dried apple, chewed, swallowed, and felt his body stiffen as she said, “Only that it seemed to me up on yon mountaintop as if yer name is nae ‘Kerr’...an’ just now calling MacTavish laird seemed to stick in yer craw when ye honored him with the appellation. ”
Meria gave her traveling companion a sideways glance. “So, maybe I would sleep better tonight if yer name was Mister Kerr indeed, and ye recognize MacTavish as yer laird an’ master…or maybe I dinnae care either way.”
He tore off a corner of the bread with his large hands and ate it. When he had finished chewing, he shifted his body slightly so that he did not have to crane his head sideways as they conversed. “How did ye hear about MacTavish’s reputation?”
Meria climbed off the log, and after placing the wolf pelt fur on the ground, sat down on it, ale flask in one hand and a slice of dried apple in the other.
She patted the space next to her. “Come. Seeing as we are opening our budgets to one another, we may as well be cozy on this beautiful fur. It’s closer to the fire. ”
She felt warmer instantly when he came to sit next to her, but the sensation had little to do with how high the flames were burning the wood.
A slow melting feeling spread over her body as she remembered how shy he had been to hide his body from her when he was removing his plaid.
It had been her first glimpse of the male body, and Meria had no doubt in her mind that if a man with a body like his was to ever join her in the bedchamber, she might possibly be the happiest woman in the world.
His legs were long and thickly muscled and perfectly suited to the rest of his manly proportions.
Meria had been fascinated by the way he had untied the bindings that held his boots strapped to his calves, pulled off his short woolen stockings by hopping from one leg to the other, before unbelting the plaid from his waist and pulling on his breeks.
It might have been a routine as old as Kerr was himself, but to Meria, it was a riveting exhibition of how men behaved and what they did behind closed doors.
She wondered if he had felt the same when he pulled the trews onto her legs—as if he was getting a glimpse behind her bedchamber door too.
“At the inn, the taproom. Men overheard the name ‘MacTavish’ and did not hesitate to warn me that I was walking into a trap. If me faither had not been in such a rush to get rid of me, he might have traveled over our borders and found this information out for himself. But he didnae, so here I am, apparently bonded to marry a beast.”
He said nothing, but she felt his hand slowly rubbing her back as if to comfort her.
“I am no’ sure if I will be happy to hear ye contradict the reports, Kerr.
Y’see, I have an inkling that ye agree with what I heard from those men.
” Her voice was still husky from the chill, but this was not a conversation Meria wanted to be shouting from the mountaintops anyway.
Laird MacTavish’s evil reputation seemed to hang in the air like a bad odor.
“I have nae been employed by him for very long, lass.” Kerr seemed to be weighing the words before he said them. “But taprooms are no’ the kind of places where truth is spoken.”
Meria frowned, shaking the long red ringlets off her face with an impatient toss. “That’s a nothing answer, Kerr. Give it to me straight.”
He dissembled once more. “I have nae even met the man, ye ken. No’ even a keek! An’ I don’ trust rumors an’ the like. It is a laird’s lot in life to be feared an’ have lesser men speak about them in frightened tones.”
Meria leaned back on her elbows and straightened her legs out to make herself more comfortable lying on the fur. She gave him a speculative look. “Let’s take this point by point, an’ ye can say me ‘aye’ or ‘nay.’ Agreed?”
Finished eating, he joined her lying on the fur cloak, their bodies forming a V-shape next to the fire, their feet touching. “Och aye, lass, whatever ye want.” He seemed relaxed. She was almost transfixed by the sight of the firelight dancing in his dark red hair.
Giving herself a little shake, Meria was determined to get answers one way or another and would not allow herself to be distracted. “How auld have ye heard Laird MacTavish to be?”
Kerr was picking the seeds out of an apple core and did not look at her when he replied, “It might be that I have heard the laird has a good fifty or sixty summers under his belt…”
Meria swallowed the cry of outrage that sprang to her lips. Of course he would be old enough to be her grandfather; that was her luck.
“An’ what reports have ye heard about his habits and temperament?”
Once again, Kerr moved his fingers up and down the fur as he chose his words carefully.
“He’s sixty years in age and unmarried, lady. That signifies a man who might be a wee bit hard to please in me own estimation.” He stopped stroking the fur and looked deep into her eyes. “Perhaps ye are the woman to tame him?”