Her lips were full and yielding underneath his. He continued his miniature foray into heaven and felt her quiver against his chest.
Instinctively he reached up and cupped her head so he could increase the intensity. As he slanted his mouth against hers, his tongue coaxed her lips open and deepened the kiss with tender possessiveness. She responded so innocently, so naturally, it unnerved him at his core. Never had a woman affected him this profoundly, this quickly. He gradually broke off the kiss and stepped away for a minute trying to catch his breath.
Laurel didn’t know what to think. The kiss had ended much as it had begun, like part of a dream. This man completely unsettled her like no one had ever done before. Last night he was supportive, this morning cold and aloof, and now, with a simple kiss, he had stirred up feelings and physical reactions she had not known she possessed. The only thing she was sure of was that he had saved her life.
Conor took several deep breaths before speaking. “You have two cracked ribs that must be bound before you finish dressing. The binding should help ease the pain when riding. We have several more days journey ahead.” He controlled his breathing and steadied his voice, but he had no means to quench his throbbing need for her. The kiss was supposed to have ended this strange attraction. Instead, it was like fuel to a fire.
She nodded, knowing that he was correct. She watched him tear a strip of cloth from the bottom of his leine to bind her ribs. Every touch seemed to remind her of the physical need he had awakened deep within her. It was only after they returned to camp and were within hearing of the group did she feel calm enough to talk.
“Are we safe here?” she asked no one in particular.
“Aye, milady. We are on allied land now,” Loman replied readily. Loman was typically good-humored and eager to please. Yet on the battlefield, he was a terrifying sight to the enemy. He had lighter features, was extremely lean and muscular, and—grinning as he was now—he seemed harmless. But Laurel remembered his demeanor the night he had found her struggling with Seamus, and knew he was not in the least harmless.
She faced the guardsman and smiled. “Please call me Laurel.”
Loman glanced at Conor, whose glower clearly made it known that no one was to be given the right to use her given name. That right was reserved for him, and him alone. “No, milady, it would not be proper.”
“But surely you do not intend to keep calling me ‘my lady’?”
Loman gulped. “Aye, milady. Until my laird tells me otherwise.” Loman quickly retreated under Conor’s withering gaze. Regardless of previous words, his laird was making it plain this Englishwoman was unavailable. Loman wondered how Hamish would react to his laird’s decision.
Laurel walked over to the campfire and accepted the offering of the youngest brother’s plaid. “Only if you will sit by me,” she made him promise.
Using her fingers, she began to untangle the mats in her wet hair and let it dry in the heat of the flame. The brothers all stared as if they had never seen a woman with blonde hair before. As she continued to work the knots, Laurel decided to divert their attention and get to know her champions better.
“You are highlanders,” she stated, as if she already knew it to be a fact. She received nodded heads for a response. She leaned over and whispered into the youth’s ear, “What is your name, highlander?”
The boy beamed. “Clyde. These are my brothers—Cole, Craig and Crevan, they’re twins, then Conan and myself. Conor is our laird. The only one not here is Colin.”
“Colin? Why isn’t he here?”
“He just got married.”
“Oh,” she replied. “And with what highland clan am I privileged to share this fire?”
“We are McTiernays,” said Conan, who sat on her other side, with pride. She wondered if the McTiernays were a large or powerful clan. If so, whom did she just allow to kiss her? And why did he? She forced herself to concentrate and pursue a different topic.
“Do you know where we are heading?”
“We are heading home,” replied the one Clyde had indicated as Cole. He looked to be the oldest of the brothers, besides Conor.
“Where is home, Cole?” she tested to see how he reacted to her familiarity.
“Far from England,” he replied directly. It was obvious that, while he didn’t want to see her hurt, he was still not liking the idea of Laurel joining them on their travels. She rose cautiously and walked over to stand next to him. She did not look at him directly but stared straight ahead, mimicking Cole’s cool stance.
“If you think it best I leave, Cole, I will.”
Her directness startled him. She smelled of flowers, and he could not deny her loveliness. She was by far the most bonnie lass he had ever seen. And the most abused. Despite his hatred for all things English, even he could not deny her help and leave her without protection.
“No, milady. I would not wish anyone to live with a Douglass.”
“Douglass? Why would I ever return there?” she asked loudly enough for the others to overhear.
“Is that not where you’re from, milady? We saw you pale at the mention of their name this morning, and we were camping fairly close to their border,” Craig interjected.
Laurel returned to Clyde’s side and sat down again. “No, I am not from anywhere near those hateful people.”
Laurel tried to discourage conversation about her origins by pretending to concentrate on her hair. She had managed to free most of the major tangles. Spying a loose piece of lace on her torn sleeve, she pulled it completely free and attempted to tie her hair back. Yet, every time she reached to bind it, she retracted in pain.
Conor saw Hamish, who had been hovering nearby, go to help her. Swiftly, Conor interrupted his guard, took the lace ribbon from Laurel’s hands, and hastily tied back her hair.
Though he tried to be quick, the feel of her soft locks and their clean smell of flowers were unnerving to his senses. Even with her hair pulled high on her head, the waves of curls still reached her lower back. He would be tormented for the rest of his days because he had touched such maddening beauty.
Conor then moved to the outskirts of the campsite as if to check the perimeter. He needed to regain control of his rising desire to know what it would be like to feel her beneath him, moaning his name.
Hamish followed. “I need to know your intentions, laird.”
Conor nodded. He recognized his guard’s desire for Laurel. He also realized that, while he may be fighting his own need for her, he could not endure knowing Laurel was with another man.
“She’s mine.”
Hamish digested this. He was unsure of how to proceed. Conor was his laird and had his loyalty in all things. But Hamish also wanted to make sure that his laird was serious about Laurel and, if not, he wanted it to be known that he was.
“Does she know this?”
“It does not matter.”
“Do you know what happened? What if she is married?”
“She is not.” Conor’s voice was hard and inflexible.
Hamish was not satisfied. “What of her family? Will they be looking for her? What will you tell them?”
“What would you tell them, Hamish?” Conor countered, stopping to look his guardsman in the eye. Hamish did not flinch under the direct questioning glare.
“I would tell them that she would never be hurt again. That I would protect and support her as long as there was breath in my body.”
Conor turned back to the path and continued walking. “I would tell them the same.” With that, Conor left Hamish and returned to the group.
Laurel was running. She