She wilted in his arms when he closed them around her, and opened her mouth to receive him. He smiled and dipped his head to take what she offered, knowing he was lost and not caring.
Chapter Sixteen
Lily woke up the next morning thinking about Elias. About his kiss, so passionate, so compelling. His lips had caressed her, his tongue explored her, leaving her weak and willing in his embrace. When she’d responded boldly by weaving her fingers through his dark waves and pulling his head closer to hers, his body grew hard and captivating beneath her fingers. She wanted to touch him everywhere, without the barrier of his clothes, but heavens, how would she ever get him to take his clothes off? She blushed thinking of it and sat up. By habit, she turned to look down at Cecily and saw Annabelle instead. She thought she might weep at the idea of Cecily not coming to Invergarry. Would any of them make it there? As long as people continued to die here, they couldn’t…he wouldn’t go.
She left her bed and peaked over the wooden railing to his and Simon’s makeshift beds.
Elias was not in his.
She dressed in her chemise and a dark brown kirtle with full skirts, perfect for hiding a few daggers and a kitchen knife, and left the house quietly.
She looked around for Elias, unashamed for the first time, thanks to God and Brother Simon, for helping her understand that she was free. It had nothing to do with loving Richard. He was no longer here.‘Til death do us part, had happened. They were parted.
She heard a sound farther down the path. Was it Elias? Bertram? She walked along slowly between her gardens, drawn by the sound of splashing water. Finally, she skimmed her gaze over Elias squatting off the narrow path between the house and the forest. He had a bucket of water from the well at his feet and scooped out some to wash his body. He splashed some on his face then dumped the bucket over his head and shook himself free of excess water.
He rose, tall and bare from the waist up. Fromlowon his waist, for his leather belt was weighted by his heavy Scot’s claymore, an axe, and two sheathed daggers. Water streamed down from his head, over his sculpted body.
He looked nothing like she’d imagined, for the only male bodies she’d ever seen were Bertram’s, whose was layered in wiggly fat, and Richard’s when she once stepped into his room without asking. It was nothing like this.
She could never have conjured up Elias’ broad chest and the long, lean muscles of his torso. From the flare of his shoulders, down the tapered length of his chiseled belly, to the alluring curves below his navel, he looked like he might be made of steel…or carved from rock.
His arms, the arms that came around her last night in the moonlight, glistened with droplets falling from his hair as he turned in her direction, as if he sensed her there.
She remained still, like prey, though her heart thumped with the guilt of spying. What would she say? At least she would wait until he put on his léine and she could think straight.
She waited, slowing her breathing.
He smiled and came toward her. Was he happy to see her or was he smiling because she looked like a hapless fool?
She cleared her throat and backed away a little. Then stopped.
“My lady,” he said with a voice draped in velvet—meant to seduce “’Tis nice to see ye so early.”
She looked up into his eyes as he came closer. Her first error. Oh, what kind of magic was at work within him, reflecting in his eyes, making her breathless, helpless?
“Aye, and you.” She felt her face go up in flames and laughed at herself. “Forgive me for stumbling upon you. I was looking for—” She stopped, hoping he didn’t ask her…
“Who were ye lookin’ fer?”
She blew out a huge breath and then reluctantly told him. “For you.”
“Oh?” He didn’t look curious. He looked infinitely happier. “What can I do fer ye, my lady?”
He could start by kissing her. She wanted to tell him but she didn’t have the courage. She stepped closer instead, knowing by now that Elias adhered to stricter codes of behavior than most other men.
She didn’t have to do much though. The instant he felt her move closer, the instant her breath mingled with his when she looked up at him, he swooped down, dragging her closer against all that rock. He held her, gazing into her eyes while she gazed into his and played with the hair slicked back at his temples.
He emboldened her. He made her ache for him, denying fear and embarrassment. “I want you to kiss me, sir,” she whispered.
He bent to her and kissed her chin. “Here?”
“No,” she giggled and then closed her eyes in sheer pleasure when he set a course with his teeth and lips gently down her throat. “Here?”
“Mmmm.” She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe when he flicked his tongue across her neck then up to her earlobe. She felt his muscles tremble under her fingers and locked her arms around his neck. He kissed his way to her mouth and enveloped her like smoke.
His lips were firm and plump and delightfully sensual. His tongue was a hungry beast, tasting every inch of her and giving her tastes of him as well. His large, broad hands splayed down her back and drew her closer against his carved body.
He pulled back, as breathless as she and smiled at her. “This is a nice way to begin the day.” The shards of silver in his eyes flashed like fire across the sky. “How shall we end it?”