The Soldier's Rebel Lover

‘But I am. My actions have put your life in danger as well as mine. I have been so blindly selfish. I am so very, very sorry.’

‘Don’t be daft. I was sent to protect you.’ He carried on stroking her hand. Her fingers curled into his. ‘And I won’t be leaving your side until you’re safely on that boat to America.’

‘Because you promised your friend Jack?’

It was what he ought to say. It was the truth, but looking at her now, at those big golden eyes shadowed with lack of sleep, and the determined set of her shoulders, and thinking of the fearless way she had confronted the most unpalatable of facts, Finlay knew it was only a very small part of the truth. He could not tell her the whole of it, but he could not resist telling her a wee bit. ‘Because you’re a brave and honourable woman, the finest one I’ve ever met, and you deserve a future,’ he said.

‘I’m not feeling very brave right now.’

Her smile was shaky, but it was a smile. ‘It’s precisely because you’re feart, and yet you are still ready to face the truth, that makes you brave,’ Finlay said.

She touched his cheek, the pad of her thumb soft against the roughness of his stubble. ‘Almost, I believe you, but I think you are just trying to make me feel better.’

‘And is my ploy working?’

‘Yes.’ She brushed his hair back from his brow. She leaned into him, and brushed her lips to his forehead. ‘It is working, but I think I have an even more effective ploy,’ she said, twining her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.

She’d caught him unawares. She tasted so sweet, he could not resist her. His arms slid around her back, pulling her tight up against him. Her tongue touched his, and his shaft sprang immediately to life. He ran his fingers through the long, silken weight of her hair, spanned the slim indent of her waist, slid them up to cup the swell of her breasts, covered only by her chemise. Her nipples were hard buds beneath the soft linen. She moaned, a soft, guttural sound that sent his blood racing.

Their kisses deepened, grew wilder. She lay back on the wooden bench. Tugging his shirt free from the waistband of his breeches, she stroked her fingers up his spine. He shuddered with delight. He kissed her throat. He kissed the mounds of her breasts above her chemise. He took one of her nipples between his lips and sucked. The fabric of her undergarments became damp from his mouth, making the dark pink nub beneath clearly visible. He turned his attention to her other nipple. She moaned again, digging her nails into his back, arching up under him, brushing her belly against the hard, throbbing rod in his breeches.

He had never wanted any woman so much. He ached to slide into her tantalisingly slowly, inch by inch by inch, relishing every single moment of it, until he was as high inside her as he could be, and then he’d tilt her delightful behind up and push deeper. His shaft pulsed in anticipation. As if she could read his mind, Isabella’s hands roved down his body, cupping his buttocks, pulling him tighter against her.

‘Finlay,’ she said, in that hoarse, breathy voice that set his blood on fire. ‘Finlay.’

He kissed her again, hard on the lips, and she met his passion with a fire of her own. If he could only have her this once... If they could make love just this once... He’d give almost anything for that.

Almost, but not quite. He tore himself away, too appalled at his lack of control to care how it must look, jumping down from the bench and tucking his shirt back into his breeches, swearing furiously in Gaelic.

Isabella sat up, pushing her hair back from her face. Her eyes were huge, desire giving way to confusion. Confusion! She should take a look inside his head! ‘You are under my protection,’ Finlay said raggedly. ‘A fine way I have of discharging my duty, taking advantage of you like that.’

‘I rather think that it was I who took advantage of you. I thought it might make us both feel a little better.’

‘I’ve absolutely no doubt that it would, temporarily,’ he said, running his hands through his hair. ‘Isabella, I know that I have been—before— I know that I have been very much— Ach, for heaven’s sake, you know perfectly well that I find it almost impossible to keep my hands off you. But the fact is we are fleeing for our very lives with half of Spain looking for us, so it’s no surprise if neither of us is thinking quite straight. But that is precisely what we need to do. Keep our heads and focus on the task in hand.’

‘So what do you propose we do?’ Isabella asked.

‘I don’t know about you,’ Finlay said, with as much gravitas as he could muster, ‘but I’m going to sort the horses out.’

* * *