Chuckling again, Geordie found her hand in the dark, took the peach pit and replaced it with the cloth sack. Dwyn quickly wiped her hands, listening as he tossed the pits the way of the chicken bones and the splashes followed.
“Tell me what it’s like at Innes.” His voice came out of the darkness, deep and soft as the night air.
“Innes,” Dwyn sighed the name, wishing she was there. “’Tis flat compared to your Buchanan, but lovely just the same.”
“What’s lovely about it?”
“The water,” she said at once. “I miss the water when I’m away from Innes.”
“Do ye spend a lot o’ time by the water?”
“Oh, aye, I take Angus and Barra and we walk the beach often.”
“Who are Angus and Barra?” he asked at once, his voice sharp in the night.
“My dogs,” Dwyn explained. “They’re brothers, a mix o’ boarhound and deerhound. They’re both big boys.”
“Boarhound and deerhound?”
She could hear the surprise in his voice and grinned. “Aye. Their mother was a deerhound me father gave me when I was fifteen. I loved her to bits, but so did one o’ me da’s boarhounds,” she said dryly. “She had a litter three years ago and I kept two o’ the boys. Da likes me to keep them with me when I leave the keep. As protection. They’re both quite ferocious and protective o’ me,” she added, and then hesitated before asking, “Yer parents are both passed, are they no’?”
“Aye. Me father died in battle some years back, and me mother o’ illness well before that.” He was silent for a minute, and then added, “Mother’s dying is why Rory became interested in healing. We all felt so helpless watching her ail and unable to help her, but he took it the hardest.”
“He has become well known for his skills,” she said, not hiding her admiration. Dwyn had some skill at healing, but Rory Buchanan was considered almost a miracle healer by many. He was much in demand with lairds from the Highlands to the Lowlands offering him a king’s ransom to tend their ill loved ones. She’d heard even the English were starting to send requests, though he apparently didn’t care to travel that far south. Peering at Geordie’s dark silhouette, she asked, “I suppose that is why he is no’ here?”
“Aye,” he almost snapped, irritated by the admiration he heard in her voice for his brother. Realizing that he was acting like a jealous ass, he added in a more normal tone, “And Alick, our youngest brother, is with him. They should return shortly . . . unless they get word of what awaits them here,” he added dryly. “Then they might find a need to stay away much longer to save themselves.”
“Save themselves?” she asked with amusement. “Do men no’ wish to marry, then? I understood all yer older brothers are married. Are they no’ happy?”
“Aye, they are, and they have fine wives, all of them,” he admitted solemnly, and then grinned and added, “I do no’ think I’ve ever seen me brothers so content as they are now they’ve found their wives. And they are all busy making me nieces and nephews. Me sister, Saidh, has already had two sets o’ twins, the first lasses, and the second a fine pair o’ lads. And then Dougall and Niels each have a bairn and another on the way, and Conran’s wife, Evina, is now with child too.”
“Ah,” Dwyn said, smiling faintly, but said, “And yet it does no’ sound as though ye want marriage and bairns fer yerself.”
“Do you?” Geordie countered.
Dwyn considered that seriously, before saying, “Most women do, I should think. We are raised preparing for the day we marry and have a home o’ our own, a husband to care for and bairns to love and raise as we were raised.”
“So ye do?” he asked.
She grimaced wryly into the darkness, but it was that very darkness that allowed her to answer honestly. “I am no’ sure. I have many fears about that.”
“What kind of fears?” he asked with interest.
“Well, I used to fear the marriage bed,” she admitted, blushing despite the darkness, and then rushed on. “But despite that, I still liked to imagine a life with a husband who cares for me, and a dozen sweet children running about. But me mother and second mother both died giving birth, and I fear dying that way too,” she confessed. “I suppose, sometimes I think mayhap I was lucky me betrothed died and did no’ come to claim me. I might already have died on the birthing bed if he had.”
Geordie was silent for a minute, but then said, “Ye said ye used to fear the marriage bed?”
“Aye, well.” She grimaced. “’Tis said ’tis unpleasant and painful and such. Hardly something a lass would look forward to.”
“But ye said you used to,” he pointed out. “As if ye no longer fear it?”
“Oh.” Blushing, she peered at his dark shape, and then feeling brave in the darkness, she admitted, “Well, yer kisses this morn made me think mayhap the marriage bed could no’ be all bad. Whatever follows the kisses may be a bit o’ a trial, but might be worth it to enjoy the kissing.”
Geordie was silent so long Dwyn began to think she’d angered him with her words, which hadn’t been her intention. In truth, she suspected her honesty had been in hopes that he might want to kiss her again, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. He’d seen how lovely the other women available to him were. Why kiss her when there were so many other, prettier—
Her thoughts died abruptly when his lips suddenly covered hers.
Chapter 4
Dwyn was so surprised that she froze like a hare spotting a hunter when Geordie’s mouth first covered hers. It was so dark now she hadn’t realized he had even moved. But that darkness didn’t prevent his finding her mouth, and after a moment, she breathed out a little sigh against his lips as they moved over hers. It was just a feathering touch he gave her at first, his lips brushing, drifting away and then brushing again. It was quite sweet, and gentle, and Dwyn smiled under his mouth, her eyes closing as she leaned forward to press her mouth more firmly against his. The moment she did, she felt Geordie’s tongue slide along her lower lip. When she parted to allow it entrance, he caught her lower lip between his and sucked gently, then let his tongue glide into her waiting mouth.
Moaning in response, Dwyn twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back, shyly meeting his tongue rather than retreat, and sucking on it as well, inviting it deeper into her mouth. She heard the low growl that came from his throat, and all the gentle teasing stopped abruptly as he tangled his hand in her long hair and used it to shift her head so that his mouth slanted over hers, his tongue now thrusting with demand, conquering rather than exploring.
Dwyn groaned in response. Forgetting they were sitting in a tree, she tightened her arms around his neck, and wiggled forward, trying to get closer. She was reminded of their precarious situation when her behind slid right off the branch and she started to drop. Before she could do more than gasp into his mouth, Geordie curled his arm around her, catching her upper body firmly to his chest, but leaving her hips and legs dangling between his knees as he continued to kiss her.