The Raider (A Highland Guard Novel) Read online

  She pushed him onto his back with a gentle shove and rolled on top of him, straddling him. At first he thought she would impale herself on him again, but instead, she started trailing soft little kisses down his chest. Down his chest and over the same bands of muscle she’d just teased.

  His stomach dropped. Could she intend…

  “Do you remember what you told me that first night at camp?”

  He swore. His heart started to pound with something akin to fear. “Nay.”

  The look she shot him from his stomach, her mouth achingly close to his cock, called him a liar. “You told me I could suck your…” She blushed, unable to get the word out.

  Oh Christ. Every muscle in his body jumped. Hell, his skin jumped—or he jumped out of it. He had to fight to keep himself from grabbing her. All he could manage was a groan.

  “I think I should like to,” she whispered.

  And then she kissed him. She moved her soft, pink lips over the big, fat head of his cock and slowly lowered her mouth.

  He did jump out of his skin then. Every ounce of blood pounded through his body. He’d never been so aroused in his life. He wouldn’t have moved if the entire English army were climbing up that hill.

  He prayed for strength. But God wasn’t giving him any. And she was just as merciless as she’d promised. She brought him to his fucking knees.

  “Show me,” she whispered, holding him in her hand.

  And he did. He lifted her head over him and told her how to milk him. How to lave him with her tongue and take him deep in her throat and pump the length that wouldn’t fit with her hand. He watched her take him in her warm, moist mouth, watched as those beautiful pink lips stretched around him, until he felt the first pulse ratchet through him. And then he took her with his body, making love to her under the trees as if he could hold on to this day forever.

  Twenty-three

  Forever was over too damned soon. When they returned to the castle at dusk, Robbie was informed by one of the guards that Seton and Douglas were waiting in the Hall.

  He probably should have sent Rosalin upstairs, but she ran ahead of him so excitedly, he didn’t have the heart to call her back.

  He was only a step or two behind her when she burst into the Hall and rushed toward Seton. “Was it as I said, Sir Alex? Did my brother explain that he had nothing to do with the attack in the forest?”

  Robbie already knew the answer. One glance at Douglas’s black visage told him.

  “Aye, my lady,” Seton answered. “It was as you said.” He turned to face Robbie. “Lord Clifford knew nothing about de Spenser’s plans to attack the camp. In fact, he was furious. Before we arrived Sir Henry had been reprimanded, ordered back to England, and,” he looked back at Rosalin, “the betrothal dissolved.”

  Rosalin shot him a very pleased “I told you so” look.

  Seton frowned, his gaze sliding back and forth between Rosalin and Robbie. Robbie swore inwardly; his partner was too damned perceptive. A trait that came in handy on missions, but not right now.

  Robbie turned to Douglas. “Are you sure?”

  “Where Clifford is concerned? Never. I don’t trust the bastard.” His gaze shot uncomfortably to Rosalin, and his mouth thinned as the next words seemed pried out of his mouth. “But he seemed in earnest. He’s worried about his sister. He wants her back. He told me to remind you of your promise.”

  Robbie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t realize it until Seton’s eyes narrowed on him again.

  Fortunately, Joanna Douglas, who had been visiting her family that afternoon (one of the reasons he’d decided to slip away with Rosalin), picked that opportune moment to arrive.

  “You’re back!” She raced into her husband’s waiting arms. He spun her around (having care for her round stomach), kissed her, and smiled—the latter causing Rosalin’s eyes to round in surprise.

  “Miss me, mo ghrá?” Douglas asked.

  Joanna laughed. “Perhaps a bit. How was your journey to Peebles?”

  Douglas restored his dark visage with a frown. “Not well. Seton was just filling in Boyd and the…”

  “Lady Rosalin,” Joanna provided helpfully, sending Rosalin an apologetic smile for her husband’s rudeness.

  But Rosalin was so happy, she didn’t appear to notice.

  “There’s more good news,” Seton said with a hard look at Boyd. “Clifford will have the silver by the end of the week.” His gaze turned to Rosalin. “You will be going home soon, my lady.”

  Robbie hoped he was the only one who noticed the despair that dulled the excited sparkle from her eyes. “That is good news indeed.” She managed a smile, and Robbie knew she was struggling not to look at him.

  He was glad she didn’t, as he didn’t have an answer for the unspoken question in her eyes.

  After Lady Joanna left to see to the evening meal, Rosalin excused herself to return to her chamber. Robbie wanted to follow her, but he needed some time to think. He watched her leave the room, but when he looked back, it was to see Seton watching him. Watching that grew steadier and darker as the evening progressed.

  Robbie tried to ignore it, but he knew that sooner or later there was going to be hell to pay.

  It came sooner. The meal was barely under way when Seton cornered Robbie on his way back from relieving himself of some of the Douglas ale. He’d gone outside rather than use the third-floor garderobe—a decision he was now regretting.

  More distracted by his thoughts than he realized, in the shadowed torchlight, Robbie thought the man who stepped out in front of him was one of the guardsmen on patrol. When he was slammed up against the stone wall of the castle with a forearm across his throat, however, he realized his mistake.

  “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.” Seton jammed his arm harder for emphasis. “Tell me.”

  Seton’s mouth was pulled pack in a feral snarl and his eyes pinned Robbie with murderous rage. Robbie had seen him angry more times than he could count—hell, half the times he’d purposefully incited the anger—but never like this. Which could explain Robbie’s slower-than-usual reaction, and the fact that he didn’t break the arm that had him pinned when he shoved up against it and twisted to the side to free himself.

  Although he had to admit it might not have been that easy. He rubbed his throat, staring at the other man in the shadowy darkness. Seton hadn’t worn mail since the early days of training, but his arm had felt as if it were covered in it. Hell, made of it. Seton might not be built as powerfully as Robbie, but he was bigger and stronger than most, with years of hard-wrought battle muscle on him. Robbie had realized it, but not with quite so much force.

  Annoyed, he glowered back at his partner. “You can think whatever the hell you like, but I don’t have to tell you a damned thing.”

  “You’re right. You don’t. I already know the truth. I just didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t think even you could be so dishonorable as to defile an innocent lass. But you proved me wrong, you bloody bastard!”

  Robbie was ready for him this time. But cornered as he was between the staircase and the river with the castle at his back and Seton at his front, there wasn’t enough room for him to maneuver and completely evade the powerful fist that came pummeling toward his teeth, or the one that followed with a quick uppercut to his jaw from the left. Robbie retaliated with a hard blow of his own to the gut and a knee to Seton’s side that pushed him back far enough for Robbie to get in better position.

  One of the guardsmen came rushing over, but Robbie yelled at him—all of them—to get back to duty.

  The distraction gave his blood a moment to calm. “You don’t want to do this,” Robbie warned Seton. “You won’t win.”

  “The hell I don’t. Someone needs to fight for that girl’s honor. I won’t let you get away with this. You might be the strongest man in Scotland, but that doesn’t make you right—or invincible.”

  Robbie was used to Seton’s shiny-armor shite, but something about it this time angered him—m