she did not want to. Her breath came out on a soft sigh, telling him she, too, was affected by their closeness. He allowed himself the briefest touch of her lips. They were cool and soft. Drawing her more tightly into his embrace, he kissed her.
She responded tentatively, not with practiced movements but with an enchanting innocence.
He tasted of her, inhaling her scent, not unlike the clean, fresh scent of the woods around them. When the kiss ended, he raised his head. “Can it be the kiss of the king’s scribe does not offend the mormaer’s niece?”
As if she was rousing from sleep, she blinked, and placing her hands on his chest, pushed. “ ’Twas not at all proper.”
He stepped away, his lips twitching up in a smile. “Ah, but that is not what I asked you.” For a moment he was lost in the green pools of her eyes. He wanted more of her, all of her. But when he moved toward her, she backed away.
“I shall say nothing of our encounter,” she said shivering, “and, please, tell no one.”
“I would not speak of this to anyone. After all, ’twas only a brief sharing of my body’s heat to warm you, nothing more,” he lied. The flicker of surprise in her eyes told him they both knew it, but mayhap she needed the lie. He grinned. “I cannot speak for you, but ’tis certain I am warmed.”
“You are impudent, Scribe,” she said as water dripped from her hair to her face and down her lovely neck.
“Before we go, you must admit you enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.”
“I certainly did not. I was merely… allowing you to share your warmth.”
He returned her a small laugh. “If you insist.” He picked up her wet shoes from the ground and reached out his hand. “Come, I will see you back to the tower.”
She pulled away and stared down at her wet gown. “I cannot go back like this !”
The gown clung to her slender curves in a most provocative way. He wanted to strip it from her and carry her naked to his bed, but instead, he said, “No, I expect not. We will take the back way to the mews and you can wait there while I retrieve a cloak for you.”
“If you ask a servant, she can fetch my cousin, Fia, who will get one.”
He chuckled. “ ’Tis probably best you not be seen wearing one of mine.”
They walked back together on the sun-dappled path. Despite the summer day, she shivered with cold. Taking her hand, he let his warmth flow to her, relieved she had not noticed the sword sheathed on his other side. He was not ready for any save Rhodri to know of his practice in the woods.
* * *
Catrìona sneezed. Beneath her robe, her skin was chilled like a plucked goose and her shivering would not stop. “I can… cannot seem to get wa… warm.” In truth, she had not been warm since the scribe let go of her hand.
“What were you thinking that you would run alone in the woods?” scolded Fia.
In Catrìona’s mind, she pictured them as young girls. “Remember when we were children, those sun-filled summers when we ran barefoot in the woods near Atholl?”
“Aye, I remember.” Her cousin looked at her askance and, with a disbelieving shrug of her shoulders, chided, “But you are nineteen now, Cat, no longer a child.”
“I was missing those days, Fia. I just wanted to be free and without the sad memories or the limitations of life as a lady of the queen. I was enjoying myself until I tried to cross the burn.”
“You are fortunate ’twas the scribe who found you.”
Yea, very fortunate. She raised her hand to her lips, remembering the scribe’s warm lips on hers. It was her first real kiss. She paled at the thought it was not Domnall who had given it to her, but instead, the handsome scribe. Still she would not change what had happened if she could. The kiss had awakened a part of her never stirred before. Was it a sin to have allowed him to kiss her so? To respond as she had?
“I hate to think what Angus would say if he knew.”
She averted her gaze
She responded tentatively, not with practiced movements but with an enchanting innocence.
He tasted of her, inhaling her scent, not unlike the clean, fresh scent of the woods around them. When the kiss ended, he raised his head. “Can it be the kiss of the king’s scribe does not offend the mormaer’s niece?”
As if she was rousing from sleep, she blinked, and placing her hands on his chest, pushed. “ ’Twas not at all proper.”
He stepped away, his lips twitching up in a smile. “Ah, but that is not what I asked you.” For a moment he was lost in the green pools of her eyes. He wanted more of her, all of her. But when he moved toward her, she backed away.
“I shall say nothing of our encounter,” she said shivering, “and, please, tell no one.”
“I would not speak of this to anyone. After all, ’twas only a brief sharing of my body’s heat to warm you, nothing more,” he lied. The flicker of surprise in her eyes told him they both knew it, but mayhap she needed the lie. He grinned. “I cannot speak for you, but ’tis certain I am warmed.”
“You are impudent, Scribe,” she said as water dripped from her hair to her face and down her lovely neck.
“Before we go, you must admit you enjoyed that kiss as much as I did.”
“I certainly did not. I was merely… allowing you to share your warmth.”
He returned her a small laugh. “If you insist.” He picked up her wet shoes from the ground and reached out his hand. “Come, I will see you back to the tower.”
She pulled away and stared down at her wet gown. “I cannot go back like this !”
The gown clung to her slender curves in a most provocative way. He wanted to strip it from her and carry her naked to his bed, but instead, he said, “No, I expect not. We will take the back way to the mews and you can wait there while I retrieve a cloak for you.”
“If you ask a servant, she can fetch my cousin, Fia, who will get one.”
He chuckled. “ ’Tis probably best you not be seen wearing one of mine.”
They walked back together on the sun-dappled path. Despite the summer day, she shivered with cold. Taking her hand, he let his warmth flow to her, relieved she had not noticed the sword sheathed on his other side. He was not ready for any save Rhodri to know of his practice in the woods.
* * *
Catrìona sneezed. Beneath her robe, her skin was chilled like a plucked goose and her shivering would not stop. “I can… cannot seem to get wa… warm.” In truth, she had not been warm since the scribe let go of her hand.
“What were you thinking that you would run alone in the woods?” scolded Fia.
In Catrìona’s mind, she pictured them as young girls. “Remember when we were children, those sun-filled summers when we ran barefoot in the woods near Atholl?”
“Aye, I remember.” Her cousin looked at her askance and, with a disbelieving shrug of her shoulders, chided, “But you are nineteen now, Cat, no longer a child.”
“I was missing those days, Fia. I just wanted to be free and without the sad memories or the limitations of life as a lady of the queen. I was enjoying myself until I tried to cross the burn.”
“You are fortunate ’twas the scribe who found you.”
Yea, very fortunate. She raised her hand to her lips, remembering the scribe’s warm lips on hers. It was her first real kiss. She paled at the thought it was not Domnall who had given it to her, but instead, the handsome scribe. Still she would not change what had happened if she could. The kiss had awakened a part of her never stirred before. Was it a sin to have allowed him to kiss her so? To respond as she had?
“I hate to think what Angus would say if he knew.”
She averted her gaze
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