Page 19 of The Highlander’s Fallen Angel (Brotherhood of Solway Moss #2)

“When the oak is felled the whole forest echoes with its fall, but a hundred acorns are sown in silence by an unnoticed breeze.”

Thomas Carlyle – Scottish Philosopher, 1795–1881

There was no time to react to the cracking, not while holding onto Tierney. Kenan pulled her into him, his hands spreading around her head as they dropped through the tree to the ground. He bent his knees on impact like he did when practicing falling off his huge horse, taking the jolt hopefully without breaking bones.

The heavy limb hit the ground, and his feet flew out from under him. He hardened all his muscles to protect him and Tierney. The impact jarred through his body, a grunt coming out of him, and Tierney gasped. His training made him curve just so, but the log under them made it impossible to roll with the force of the fall.

Breath knocked from his chest, he made himself relax all his tightened muscles. His lungs opened, and he drew in the wind whipping the leaves over and around them. Thunder cracked at the same time lightning severed the clouds above. As if ripping the bottom off of a full rain bucket, the cloud dropped a deluge of water.

“Saint Margaret’s foking tears,” Tierney said against his chest, her warm body stretching within his arms.

Relief that Tierney was well enough to curse helped Kenan breathe. “Are ye allowed to use fok when talking of a pious saint?”

She was silent for a moment, the rain slamming down through the leaves. “She birthed King David, so she must fok.”

Laughter poured out of him. Tierney pulled herself up his chest, lying over him. Rain saturated her hair so that it hung down in a wet curtain. From the light of another lightning flash, he saw that she was laughing, too.

“What the bloody hell is going on?”

Kenan tipped his head way back to see an upside-down Rory running out toward them, Sara standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a robe wrapped around her. Rory stopped to stare down over them, worry on his face. “Are ye well? What happened?”

“Yer tree is not strong enough,” Kenan said.

Rory looked up and then back down at them. “To hold the two of ye up there, tupping like squirrels? Nay, ’tis not.”

“We weren’t—” Kenan began.

“Like the bed at Scorrybreac,” Rory said over the wind. “The two of ye are destructive like rampaging whirlwinds.”

Tierney pushed up off Kenan. “Can you move?” she asked, grabbing one of Kenan’s hands.

Kenan took a few seconds to wiggle toes, fingers, and his limbs. “Aye.”

Rory grabbed the other hand, and the two of them leaned back to help Kenan rise from the leafy branches spread across the yard. The limb that had cracked had been long, the end lying across the herb garden.

“Fiona’s going to have words with ye,” Rory yelled over the thunderous rain. “Now get inside.” He pivoted and jogged back to the doorway where Sara backed up to let him in.

Already soaked through, neither Kenan nor Tierney moved toward the shelter. When he turned to her, she was staring at him, still holding onto his hand. He pulled her back into his arms, the warmth of her body instantly welcoming with the chilled wind and rain whipping around them. “We should get ye dry and warm,” he said near her ear.

She nodded but made no move to pull away, so Kenan continued to hold her for a long moment. “Are ye afraid of the cook waiting for us in the kitchen?”

Tierney laughed against him, and he felt her take a full inhale. He let her pull back to look up in his eyes. She blinked as rainwater ran down her forehead, past her brows. “I don’t know where to sleep.” The smile that had been on her lips washed away.

Where to sleep? They’d been given a bedchamber together. He studied her, trying to see past the portrait of drowned beauty. There was so much more to her words. He felt the weight of them. ’Tis why she’d come outside to a tree in the first place.

But her kiss had been full of desire, and he was too wet to untangle all her worries right then. So he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her long and without hurry, his hands cupping her face. When they stopped to breathe, he looked down into her face, its paleness a stark relief against the dreary night around them.

“Ye will sleep with me, Tierney, until ye only feel cold when ye think of me.”

“What if I never feel cold when I think of you?”

He leaned in and kissed her chilled forehead. “Then ye will always know where to sleep.”

His words were a poetic ending. He wanted only to lead her inside up to their assigned room, stripping the wet clothes from her. Would she turn away from the passion he felt in her kiss? Would he be able to let her go?

Before he could try and probably fail to give more arguments for her coming to bed with him, Tierney slid her hand down his chest, his tunic sticking to the wet skin underneath, to grab his hand. “Then I think ’tis time for us to get out of these wet clothes,” she said. She tugged Kenan, striding toward the frowning woman in the doorway. “I will help right the herbs in the morn, Mistress Fiona.”

“See that ye do,” Fiona said, and on closer inspection, the woman had a twinkle of mischief in her narrowed eyes. “And the swing will need to be tied to another branch,” she called after them as they wound through the labyrinth of kitchen tables. “And the other branch thrown over the wall.”

“I will be down in the morn to do just that,” Kenan said, his long strides nearly making Tierney run to stay ahead of him.

Long snores came from the two sleeping advisors who sat in chairs near the dying fire in the keep. The wolfhound’s head rose and lowered back once he saw that they weren’t enemies. The squish of Tierney’s slippers on the steps was accented by the clip of his boots.

They made it to the door of their room, and she pushed inside without hesitation. Did lust pulse through her like it did he? As she entered, she stopped abruptly as she spotted his surprise by the fire. He’d forgotten as their passion nearly killed the tree.

She turned slowly toward him. “You ordered a bath?”

A smile slid across his mouth. “I ordered us a bath in the largest tub Rory had made.”

“For us? What if I hadn’t come?” She walked toward it. He knew it was filled with barely warm water, but there was a cauldron of hot water over the coals in the hearth.

“Then I would have enjoyed a bath in a tub big enough to accommodate me.” Lifting the cauldron by two wooden handles on the sides, he strode to the large wooden structure lined with linen and dumped in the steaming water.

Tierney looked from the surface of the bath to Kenan. “It has been a long time since I’ve indulged. I usually bathe in the creek behind Scorrybreac.”

He set the cauldron down and grabbed several drying sheets. “I would like to stay, but not if ye’d like to be left to enjoy it alone.” He wasn’t going to act as if he didn’t care. He wanted Tierney, and with her past he’d never want her to think herself undesirable.

The lass had been abused inside and out by people who should have protected her. She deserved more than pity, more than a bath on her own. She deserved respect and the ability to decide for herself how much she was willing to give. And he would give her both tonight.

Tierney stood in silence, her wet hair brushing against her shoulders. The tie at the top of her smock had come undone, allowing the skin sweeping across her collarbones to glow with creamy paleness. They were alone behind thick stone walls, surrounded by sea, at night in a storm. There were only the two of them, and his blood thrummed quickly. His hands clenched, impatient to touch her, but it was her turn to cross the line to him. He had set up the room and bath. If she decided that being with him threatened her freedom too much, he would find a pallet in the Great Hall on which to sleep. Anything else might send her into another tree.

Her fingers rose to the ties of her bodice, and she began to unlace them. “There is no one else I would rather share my bath with.” She shrugged out of her bodice and reached behind herself to untie the petticoats weighted down with rain over her hips.

Kenan’s body tensed with reined in hope. “Ye can use it all alone. ’Tis a gift with no presumptions.”

Her brow rose, and she grinned with a sly tilt to her lips. “You said it was a bath for us .” Her wet petticoats dropped with a thump around her ankles, and she stepped out.

He shook his head, and she held up one finger. “Only if I want to share.”

With a sweep of his arm, he peeled the wet linen tunic off over his head, letting it thump to the rug. He’d have to change no matter her decision.

Her gaze slaked down his bare chest, his own nipples peaked from the chill that came with the dampness. Her look was voracious as if she were planning to devour him. Heat rushed under his skin.

Tierney stepped out of her petticoats and untied her stays. Only then did he bend to untie his boots, shucking them off one at a time without looking down. “So the us,” she continued, “makes the bath not just a gift for me.”

She was baiting him. He could tell by her tone and the fact she continued to undress. He couldn’t speak when her stays slid off, revealing her damp smock. The white undergown, edged with lace, was nearly transparent, and Tierney’s peaked nipples stood out under the gentle cinching around her breasts.

“’Twas a mistaken word,” he said. “A hope, a wish, but ’tis yer choice. The gift is yers.” Kenan waited, his hand on his belt. Once he freed it, his heavy pleated wrap would drop, and he’d be naked, his cock thrusting high. If he were a betting man, he would guess he was staying, but Tierney had a dark history and an unpredictable streak.

Tierney stepped over to the tub and ran her fingers through the warm water. Her eyes brightened. “’Tis so warm.” With wet fingers she caught the hem of her smock and pulled it off over her head. He watched as her arms came down to her sides.

She was exquisite. He shook his head. “Someone should sculpt ye, Tierney. A lush angel fallen from the divine.”

Her lips slowly rose at the corners. “You are a poet, Kenan Macdonald.” Before he could answer, she stepped one long leg into the tub. “Holy Joan,” she whispered, stepping in with her other leg. Her hair, which was starting to curl as it dried, fell around her shoulders as she stooped, lowering into the hot water. A sigh came from her as she leaned back against the one curved end. “’Tis heavenly.” She looked at him, smiling. “One could say ’tis divine.”

She sunk down, and Kenan watched her entire head slip under the water. When she emerged, her hair slicked back, the heat from the water had rouged her cheeks. She blinked water-spiked lashes as she cleared her eyes.

He brought over a cake of soap that Sara had given him when he’d ordered the bath. It had a definite flowery scent, as if she knew the bath was for Tierney. Holding it out, her wet hand wrapped around his, sliding the soap off. Plop . It dropped into the deep, warm water. She kept his hand and looked into his eyes. “Perhaps you could get that for me.”

Clunk . His heavy, woolen wrap hit the side of the tub on its way to the floor.

He leaned down, meeting her lips, and Tierney’s arms went around his neck, pulling him. Kenan’s hand went down into the water, his palm lowering onto the edge of the slippery soap. It slid out from under the heel of his hand when she pulled, and he fell forward, his face going past her shoulder to hit the water.

He lifted his face out of the water, his hair covering his eyes. Tierney’s laughter shot through him, filling him like wind filling the sails of a ship. Pinching the water from his nose, he pushed forward. She shrieked when he slid over her into the bathing tub, his bulk sending the water to the rim. He slipped to the side of her, pulling her naked body before him, her back against his chest as he held her on his lap. “That’s better,” he said, his arms wrapping around her middle. “I have caught a mermaiden.”

She turned in his arms so she could peer up into his face, her smile seductive. “I am no maiden.”

His body was on fire. There should be a cloud of steam rising up from the water with the heat he felt, the lustful ache. Her hands found his shoulders, and she turned in the water to slide along his taut body, rising up to kiss him. He lost himself to the feel of her against him. The bathing tub was long enough that he could straighten his legs if he was sitting, but he sunk down, his knees bending so he could cradle her as she straddled him. His cock sat up hard against his belly, pressed between him and the soft curve of her stomach. She rubbed her mound against the base, and a small moan passed her lips as she lowered her mouth to his.

Their kiss turned wild, her arms clasping him as the water helped her rise and fall, rubbing more. He stroked down her back, tracing the outline of her spine until he reached her lovely, rounded arse. His fingers sought her, and she arched, her knees splayed open across his lap.

“Yes,” she purred against his lips as his fingers slid into her from behind. She was just as hot and wet inside as out.

Kenan sucked in breath when her hand wrapped around him, moving briskly. Her tongue slid along his as she pulled her body forward, positioning his cock against her opening, the buoyancy of the water holding them. Kenan grabbed her hips without releasing her mouth and slowly pushed her down onto his straining cock. The pleasure was maddening, and he grabbed her body to him, completely impaling her.

“Oh God, yes,” she breathed as he began to slide her up and down his length. She rose up so that she sat upon him, her wet, gleaming breasts moving, peaked and tantalizing, above the waterline with each thrust. She bent forward so he could suck a nipple into his mouth, her fingernails scratching through his hair to his scalp. His hands were free to explore every bit of her skin, every nook and cranny, even the taboo.

With a breathy moan, she climaxed on top of him, her body squeezing every inch of his length. Grabbing her hips, he took over the rhythm, pushing her up and down his cock. Water sloshed over the side with the rising tempo, and the explosion rocked through him. “Mo Dhia,” he growled as he released deep inside her, and her body continued to milk every last bit of him.

He pulled her to him, and she rested her cheek against his rapidly rising chest. They sat entwined in the warm water, bathed in languid satisfaction. He felt her hand move around along his leg, and it broke the surface.

She smiled triumphantly, holding up the rough cake of soap. “I found it.”

He met her smile with his own, wrapping his arms around her to hug her to his wet chest. He breathed in, and the words tumbled through his mind.

Marry me, Tierney .

But he didn’t say them. If he did, this night of pleasure would probably end, and Kenan wished to wring more moans from her lips.