“Ye’ll have to dress yerself, lass. I canno’ do it. Do I touch ye . . .” Geordie shook his head woefully.
Dwyn’s eyes widened at that, but she was already reaching for the top of her dress. She hadn’t expected he would dress her; she’d expected to do it herself. But not with him watching, his hungry eyes roving over her breasts and making them tighten and harden with excitement as she recalled his kisses and caresses. Struggling to get her sleeves turned right side out, she glanced up at him to see that his gaze had dropped to her lap and her barely covered womanhood that he’d so recently kissed too, and Dwyn paused and scowled.
“M’laird, pray stop looking at me like I’m a peach ye wish to eat. Ye’re oversetting me nerves and making me long to rip me gown off and climb in yer lap.”
Geordie blinked, and then raised his eyes to her face. “Lass,” he countered quietly, “while I most oft love yer honesty, this is no’ a good time fer it. I am a hairsbreadth away from losing me control, pushing ye to yer back, tossing yer skirts up over yer head and thrusting into ye right here in the orchard like a lightskirt. I do no’ want to take yer maiden’s veil that way, and beg o’ ye, please, just dress.”
Dwyn hesitated, tempted to ignore his plea and reach for him, but his “like a lightskirt” comment held her back. She suspected her behavior here today already was no better than a lightskirt’s. But he didn’t seem to think so. She feared though that did she push him to the point of taking her here in the orchard, he would think her no better than one, and she didn’t want that. The things he’d done to her, and the pleasure he’d shown her, had been glorious. Special. Like a gift. She didn’t want it all tarnished and turning to dust in her mouth by going too far.
Sighing, Dwyn shifted on the blanket until her back was to him, and quickly untangled and donned the top of her gown. Her hands were still shaking from what she’d experienced, but she managed to tie her lacings despite that, and then she ran her unsteady hands through her loose hair. She was about to turn back to him when he was suddenly standing beside her and bending to pick her up.
Dwyn eyed his face solemnly as he straightened with her in his arms. “I thought ye wished to speak to yer brother?”
“I do. But I’ll no’ leave ye out here on yer own when ye canno’ even walk,” he said, turning toward the gardens.
“I could—” Dwyn paused and glanced around as the sound of a twig snapping caught her ear.
Geordie stopped as well, and they both stared along the trees, waiting for whoever had made the sound to appear. Instead, they heard the sound of someone moving quickly away.
“Ye do no’ think someone saw—?” she began with concern.
“It does no’ matter,” Geordie said grimly, and began to walk swiftly through the trees to the path through the garden. And then he forced a smile and assured her, “All will be well as soon as I speak to me brother.”
Dwyn nodded for his benefit, but didn’t really believe it. If someone had seen what they’d got up to in the orchard . . . Well, she could be ruined, she supposed, but that troubled her little. She never left Innes as a rule, and they rarely had visitors, so she wasn’t likely to be faced with her ruin there among the people who loved her. What bothered her more was that Geordie might be forced to marry her. To her mind that would be a terrible punishment for a man who had done nothing but show her the pleasure to be found between a man and woman. It was something she probably wouldn’t have experienced otherwise.
Nay, whatever happened, she would ensure he was not forced to marry her, Dwyn decided firmly. She knew he didn’t want to marry. She’d heard his brother Aulay telling his wife, Jetta, that the first afternoon when the laird had returned ahead of his brother and uncle from swimming in the loch. They hadn’t realized she heard it. Dwyn had been approaching where they sat at the table to ask if she might borrow the book of crusader poetry when she’d overheard their conversation. She’d moved away then until they finished talking before approaching again to make her request. When Geordie had begun hovering over her and keeping her company after she was injured, she’d assumed his desire not to marry was why. She’d thought he was doing so to avoid the other women who were hunting for a husband. Dwyn was sure he’d felt comfortable keeping company with her because she’d already admitted she didn’t expect him or his brothers to choose her, so he needn’t fear her expecting anything of him.
Nay, Dwyn thought. She would not see him punished for being kind to her. If word got out of what they’d done this afternoon, and her father, or Geordie’s brother Aulay, tried to force him to marry her, she’d refuse . . . she would protect Geordie Buchanan.
“Geordie!”
Feet slowing as he carried Dwyn around the front of the keep, Geordie glanced around at that call, relaxing when he spotted Alick ambling toward him, a wry smile on his youngest brother’s maturing face. Geordie had seen Alick as a stripling for so long, it was surprising to note that his face had hardened with age, and his body had filled out, gaining muscle that matched his own. How had he missed this? he wondered, and then forced himself to concentrate as his brother began to speak.
“Rory sent me out to fetch ye back.”
“Why?” Geordie asked with a frown. “Did ye run into trouble on yer journey?”
“Nay,” Alick assured him quickly. “’Tis just that Jetta told him about a certain beautiful young lass who had a mishap with glass in the upper hall and asked him to look at her injuries to be sure they were healing well.” His gaze drifted over Dwyn then, alighting on her bountiful breasts and pausing there briefly, before sliding on to the tops of her bare feet. Offering her a charming grin, he added, “Pray tell me ye’re no’ the lovely lass who suffered so. Me heart breaks at the mere thought o’ ye enduring such pain.”
Geordie noted the way Dwyn smiled at the flowery words, and found himself scowling at his brother. Turning abruptly away from him without even introducing her, he started toward the keep doors, growling, “Aye, this is the lass, and her name is Dwyn Innes. Lady Dwyn Innes, so stop ogling her like a pudding ye plan on eating and run ahead to get the door fer me, little brother.”
“My, someone is grumpy today,” Alick said with amusement as he moved past at a leisurely pace to mount the steps before him.
Geordie merely glowered at him in passing as Alick opened one of the keep doors for him to carry Dwyn inside. Pausing a couple feet inside the door though, he glanced around, frowning when he didn’t see Rory or Jetta anywhere. “Where is he?”
“Probably gathering his medicinals,” Alick said with unconcern as he moved up beside him on the side where Dwyn’s bare feet hung over his arm.
Geordie debated what to do. Aulay was at the table and he wanted to speak to him, but he had no idea where Rory would want to look at Dwyn’s feet. It could be her room, or Jetta might suggest taking her to the master chamber to tend them there again. He was trying to decide whether to carry her to the table or take her directly above stairs when Dwyn gasped and gave a startled laugh.
Glancing down he noted the way she was blushing.
“Ye’re ticklish,” Alick said with amusement, and Geordie glanced to his brother to see that he had lifted Dwyn’s foot by her big toe so that he could look at her injuries. Alick then shifted his hold to clasp her by the back of her foot and lifted her leg higher. His smile immediately died, and he murmured, “My, ye did do yerself some damage. Is the other foot as bad?”