Page 17 of Bound to a Warrior
A startling crack of thunder should have broken them apart, but it didn’t. They remained pressed against each other, their eyes locked and their lips so close that one small pucker, and they would kiss.
It wasn’t the first falling raindrop, but a few fat ones that finely separated them and had them quickly resuming their journey. They kept ahead of the storm for a distance until the heavy rain caught up with them and in no time they were both soaked through.
It didn’t stop them though, they kept going, their clothes soaked to their skin, their hair dripping with rain. Duncan glanced her way now and again and wondered if perhaps the torturous ordeal would bring her to tears. But when he looked, he couldn’t tell if she was crying, since rain was falling continuously down her face.
It wasn’t until several hours later when the storm grew worse, the wind howling and whipping around them so severely that Duncan tucked Mercy in the corner of his arm and bent his body partially over her to protect her from the ruthless squall, then decided they had no choice but to stop.
They were lucky to stumble upon a small cave. It was barely big enough for the both of them, but at least it offered shelter from the storm.
“We need a fire,” Mercy said, shivering.
Duncan was already looking to see if the cave had anything else to offer them, and he smiled when he saw enough small broken branches to serve well as kindling. He didn’t have to say a word to her; she must have followed his glance as they bent together and began picking up the wood to start a fire.
They kept the campfire near the mouth of the cave, though far enough back so that the rain and wind wouldn’t disturb it. As soon as Duncan got the fire going, he removed the blanket from the wet sack and with Mercy’s help spread it nearby to dry. Then they huddled together in front of the flames.
“We made good distance until we were forced to stop,” Mercy said and quick as a wink slipped her blouse over her head and twisted the rainwater out of it. “Hurry and do the same,” she urged. “We’ll hold my blouse and your shirt by the fire and hopefully they might dry enough for us to put them back on tonight.
He didn’t protest, especially since he worried that if her full, bouncy breasts and those tight hard nipples stared at him for the entire evening, he would do something regrettably foolish.
Duncan followed her leave in rubbing himself dry with his free hand, at least the top part of him. He had yet to remove his plaid and actually didn’t want to. While the wet wool dampened his desires, it certainly couldn’t keep entire control of it. And every time she leaned over closer to the fire, her breasts swinging loose and free in front of her, he ached to reach out and cup one in his hand.
He could almost feel the mound resting heavily in his hand and then all he’d have to do is run his thumb over that taut nipple and–
“Watch out!” she yelled and yanked their chained wrists back. “Wet or not, you near singed your shirt on the flames.”
She stirred restless. “We best shed the rest of our wet garments.”
“That’s going to be a problem.”
“Why?’
He was blunt. “I want nothing more right now than to lower you to the ground and couple with you.”
Chapter 6
Mercy froze, her mouth agape, staring at Duncan. “That’s not going to happen.”
Duncan shook his head, running his fingers through his long hair and squeezing the water out the ends before he asked, “Why?”
She didn’t know how to respond and floundered in an attempt to supply an adequate answer.
“I could understand if you believed in love,” he said with a casual shrug. “But since you don’t, why not enjoy a good toss when you can get it?”
Again she couldn’t find the right words and she wondered was it because she didn’t know herself? If love remained in question for her, whatever was she waiting for?
“Your silence confirms that you have no answer.” He reached out and ran a gentle finger along the side of her face. “It also tells me that you probably have never been intimate with a man and you’re simply frightened of the first time. I promise you that you would enjoy me nestled between your legs.”
Mercy brushed his hand away, his once tender touch now feeling more like a branding iron. She had no intentions of being like her mother, branded by a man and subjected to his whim.
“Why is no concern of yours,” she snapped.
“Besides being courageous, you’re feisty. I like that.”
She reached out and poked his bare chest. It was solid and made her realize that wit was called for rather than anger. “And I like that you’re chivalrous.”
“You’re forever going to remind me of that, aren’t you?”
“As often as necessary,” she said with a smile.
