Chapter Seventeen #2
“Now they are going to walk the cattle around the fire,” he said, pointing to the line of cows.
“Whatever for?”
“To keep the evil spirits away.”
“What mischief do these spirits cause?” Catarina asked.
“They wreak all manner of havoc and ill fortune. They have been thought to poison springs, rile the spirits of animals, even steal the souls of children.”
Catarina chewed her lip. “Mayhap, we should heed Mary’s advice.”
Quinn scanned the sky. “We should hurry. The sun is sinking. And trust me—this is one festival ye do not want to miss.”
CATARINA THREW HER head back and laughed as she snaked around the throng of Highlanders, trailing behind Aileen and Jennie, dancing a fierce reel. The pace of the drums quickened and so too did their feet. Then suddenly the drums stopped, and the aching sound of a lone piper filled the night.
The single instrument commanded the attention of the clan.
Catarina held her breath as the notes seemed to drip from the pipe, slow and heavy.
The sound was hungry, filled with longing.
It was primal and touched something deep within her, beckoning her.
A large hand slipped into hers, causing her breath to hitch.
Wildness and turmoil filled her soul to bursting.
She dared not look up and meet Quinn’s gaze, not when she was filled with so much that she did not understand and had no words to describe.
She felt his thumb beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
He pulled her close, pressing her body flush to his, and then they started to move to the ethereal sound.
Lady Catarina would have thought their dance vulgar.
Katie thought it primal.
“Kiss me again,” she whispered, meeting his black eyes.
“I cannot,” he answered.
Rejection smothered her breath. She stiffened and cast her eyes to the ground. But he cupped her cheeks and brought her eyes back to his. “If we kiss again like we did this morning, ye become mine, my lady.”
Her stomach fluttered. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I am not your lady.”
He arched a brow at her. “Nay?”
She shook her head, then rose up on her toes, bringing her lips just a breath from his. “I am your lass,” she whispered.
His hands came beneath her arms, and he lifted her into the air, straightening his arms to the sky. She flung her head back as he spun her around. And then he lowered her, her body sliding down his until they were face to face. “Say it again,” he said, his voice strained and husky.
“I am your lass,” she whispered.
A growl fled his lips before claiming hers.
He swept her into his arms, and her feet did not touch the ground again until they were in their beautiful hovel.
He kicked the door shut with his heel. Then he set her down on her feet and turned around, pressing her back into the door.
His hands dug into her hair while his lips claimed hers.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close.
Fire scorched her body, and she gave herself over to the heat.
Her hands gripped the sides of his tunic, pushing it high.
He pulled it the rest of the way over his head.
She stepped back, raking her eyes across his strong chest. Then he seized her arms and raised them over her head.
She felt the caress of fabric brush her skin while he tore off her tunic and kirtle.
Her hands moved instinctively to cover her body. She had never stood naked for a man.
“Do not hide from me,” he said softly. His thumb crooked her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
Then he slowly lowered his lips to hers.
She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck.
His tongue coaxed her lips apart while he lifted her into his arms. He laid her down, the soft blanket beneath her.
His hard body moved over her. She arched her back when his hands cupped her breasts.
Hunger gripped her. An ache burned deep within her, craving fulfillment.
Her hands rushed over his shoulders when his warm breath teased her nipple.
She seized just as his tongue flicked out, sending currents of pleasure rushing between her thighs.
She groaned, spreading her legs wide. He moved his lips lower, across her quaking stomach to the very heat of her.
She threw her head back and cried out. It was more than she could bear.
Quinn shifted over her, settling himself between her slick, hot thighs.
He swiftly entered her. Her body held his in a tight grip.
Slowly, he thrust, savoring her every whimper and groan.
Her legs wrapped around his waist. With every thrust, he sunk deeper and faster.
She cried out beneath him, her warm climax surrounding him, pushing him higher and higher until he seized as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through him.
“I CANNOT IMAGINE YOU as a thief,” she said to his surprise as she rested her head on his chest.
He stroked his hand down her back. “Well, I am and a terribly good one at that.”
“What do you do?” she said, rolling onto her stomach and looking up at him.
He scrubbed his bristled jaw with his hand. “Well...we...ye know.”
“No,” she smirked. “I really do not know. Tell me.”
He knew to deny her would be futile. “Well...we wait in the woods on any of the roads north into Scotland.”
“What do you wear?” she chimed in.
He smiled. “We dress in black, and our faces are covered in black hooded masks.”
She made a show of shivering. “Quite sinister.”
“We wear large wooden crosses given to us by the Bishop Lamberton himself. And we call each other by our saint’s name to ensure our true identities remain secret.
She smiled knowingly. “And your name is St. Augustine.”
He smiled. “Naturally.”
“Augustine was a great philosopher,” she said. “The name suits you.” Then she cleared her throat. “And did you only rob English lords?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nay, not exactly. We also robbed ladies such as yerself...need I apologize?”
She shook her head. “I understand your anger. I have no love for my king, not after Berwick, not after so many lives were taken, and so many more ruined.” She stroked her hand down the hard ridges of his stomach.
“Anyway,” she said, laying her head back down on his chest and continuing her exploration of his strong physique. “I am not a lady anymore, remember?”
He threaded his fingers through her hair. “Aye, that’s right. Ye’re my lass now.” He kissed her long and hard and proceeded to show her again exactly what it meant to be his lass.