father wanted another match, 'tis true enough, but bride
theft is an honored tradition."
And that explained how the lass
had been so far from home with so few warriors about. Aye. Andrew Kerr was a
shrewd man. Pity he hadn't shared with his brother the full extent of the plot.
It would have been nice to know that the bride and her brother were in on the
abduction. "How long?" How long had he lain here, unable to fend for
himself? How long had this stripling doctor-to-be tended his wound? He shook
the fuzziness from his head. Had the man drugged him?
"Your clansmen left ye on
the road to die." The youth's voice was troubled. "'Twas a good six
nights ago that Agnes was taken. None have come looking."
Damn. Six nights ? "Aye. They wouldna. They know I can do for
meself." He watched Brodick eat, spooning occasional bites of pottage between
tempting lips. "I'll leave when the storm lets up." Watching Brodick,
he fully understood his brother's fascination with Agnes.
Shaking his head, Brodick
cautioned, "Nay. You canna go so far until ye've healed further."
"I dinna ken what the MacFarlands
are made of, lad, but a Kerr is a hardy man. If it werena for yer drugs, I'd
have been away long since." Under lowered lids he admired the fluid grace
of the physician's movements as he scraped his bowl back into the pot and
covered it.
"Ye had the fever. I gave ye
a draught, is all." Brodick stared at the wall over Ian's head for a few
minutes. Ian waited. His senses were on high alert…and not because he felt
threatened. A sensual current between him and his caretaker sent prickles of
awareness sparking through his body. The fine red gold hair on his arms stood
upright.
"No more of yer draughts. I
canna spend the whole of the season holed up in a bothy in the
countryside."
"I've to get back to Aberdeen, to the college."
"Then, in the morning, we
leave." Aye. The lad would make a fine doctor and a poor specimen of a
warrior at that. Not that his body wasn't fine in its own way. Ian admired
again the smooth chest with its tight pink nipples, the sculpted lean muscles.
He dragged his gaze back to Brodick's face and noted his quickened breath. The
lad was interested, even if he didn't know what lured him. "Ye go alone to
the city?"
Were the MacFarland family
crazed? To send one so young and fair alone?
A faint smile twisted sensual
lips. "I cross only the lands of those my family is allied with. I'll come
to no harm."
"I'll escort ye." He
saw the other's lips part as though to protest and barreled on. "Ye cared
for me when I needed it. I'll see ye to yer destination, I canna be indebted to
a MacFarland while our clans are at war." Ian nodded resolutely, shutting
his eyes to block out any further discussion.
The MacFarland didn't take the
hint though and continued to chatter endlessly about his city, his school, the
books he'd read, and wonders he'd like to see, until Ian thought the sound of
the man's voice alone would drive him mad.
"Sleep," he ordered
gruffly. His rod lay thick and hard against his belly, and if he were anywhere
else, with anyone else, he wouldn't have hesitated to take himself in hand and
relieve his frustration. Maybe when the lad slept and the temptation to show
him that Scotland held plenty of marvels to wonder at faded, he'd be able to
find relief from his aching need.
He slouched down, crossing his
arms over his chest and ignoring the tug of the stitching, the ache of his
wound. With closed eyes, he listened to the other man rustling around,
preparing for his own rest.
When he was certain from the even
breathing across the fire that Brodick slept, Ian loosened the folds of his
tartan and palmed his cock. Imagining steely blue eyes and ruby lips, he
stroked himself a few times, losing himself in the building fire until a smooth
hand stroked down his chest.
His eyes flew open in surprise.
"Brodick?"
"Ian…" The whisper
brushed over his lips. "I want…"
Disregarding his injury, Ian
caught Brodick by the
theft is an honored tradition."
And that explained how the lass
had been so far from home with so few warriors about. Aye. Andrew Kerr was a
shrewd man. Pity he hadn't shared with his brother the full extent of the plot.
It would have been nice to know that the bride and her brother were in on the
abduction. "How long?" How long had he lain here, unable to fend for
himself? How long had this stripling doctor-to-be tended his wound? He shook
the fuzziness from his head. Had the man drugged him?
"Your clansmen left ye on
the road to die." The youth's voice was troubled. "'Twas a good six
nights ago that Agnes was taken. None have come looking."
Damn. Six nights ? "Aye. They wouldna. They know I can do for
meself." He watched Brodick eat, spooning occasional bites of pottage between
tempting lips. "I'll leave when the storm lets up." Watching Brodick,
he fully understood his brother's fascination with Agnes.
Shaking his head, Brodick
cautioned, "Nay. You canna go so far until ye've healed further."
"I dinna ken what the MacFarlands
are made of, lad, but a Kerr is a hardy man. If it werena for yer drugs, I'd
have been away long since." Under lowered lids he admired the fluid grace
of the physician's movements as he scraped his bowl back into the pot and
covered it.
"Ye had the fever. I gave ye
a draught, is all." Brodick stared at the wall over Ian's head for a few
minutes. Ian waited. His senses were on high alert…and not because he felt
threatened. A sensual current between him and his caretaker sent prickles of
awareness sparking through his body. The fine red gold hair on his arms stood
upright.
"No more of yer draughts. I
canna spend the whole of the season holed up in a bothy in the
countryside."
"I've to get back to Aberdeen, to the college."
"Then, in the morning, we
leave." Aye. The lad would make a fine doctor and a poor specimen of a
warrior at that. Not that his body wasn't fine in its own way. Ian admired
again the smooth chest with its tight pink nipples, the sculpted lean muscles.
He dragged his gaze back to Brodick's face and noted his quickened breath. The
lad was interested, even if he didn't know what lured him. "Ye go alone to
the city?"
Were the MacFarland family
crazed? To send one so young and fair alone?
A faint smile twisted sensual
lips. "I cross only the lands of those my family is allied with. I'll come
to no harm."
"I'll escort ye." He
saw the other's lips part as though to protest and barreled on. "Ye cared
for me when I needed it. I'll see ye to yer destination, I canna be indebted to
a MacFarland while our clans are at war." Ian nodded resolutely, shutting
his eyes to block out any further discussion.
The MacFarland didn't take the
hint though and continued to chatter endlessly about his city, his school, the
books he'd read, and wonders he'd like to see, until Ian thought the sound of
the man's voice alone would drive him mad.
"Sleep," he ordered
gruffly. His rod lay thick and hard against his belly, and if he were anywhere
else, with anyone else, he wouldn't have hesitated to take himself in hand and
relieve his frustration. Maybe when the lad slept and the temptation to show
him that Scotland held plenty of marvels to wonder at faded, he'd be able to
find relief from his aching need.
He slouched down, crossing his
arms over his chest and ignoring the tug of the stitching, the ache of his
wound. With closed eyes, he listened to the other man rustling around,
preparing for his own rest.
When he was certain from the even
breathing across the fire that Brodick slept, Ian loosened the folds of his
tartan and palmed his cock. Imagining steely blue eyes and ruby lips, he
stroked himself a few times, losing himself in the building fire until a smooth
hand stroked down his chest.
His eyes flew open in surprise.
"Brodick?"
"Ian…" The whisper
brushed over his lips. "I want…"
Disregarding his injury, Ian
caught Brodick by the
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