Brogan’s grin widened. “Ye may be right, so why dinna ye tell me yours?” He tweaked her nose.
“I might back out of this deal,” she said with mock petulance, “for I dinna feel ye truly put in any effort.”
“I beg to differ. I bared my soul.” He clasped both his hands at his chest.
Fiona scoffed. “Fine. I dinna like being told what to do. Satisfied?”
Brogan laughed, the sound loud and booming in the tiny cave, and drawing the attention of the men who sat around the fire.
“If ye’re telling jokes, we want to hear,” Sorley called.
“I’ve got a joke for ye,” Fin said. “Three men walk into a tavern. One’s a Scot, one’s an Irishman, and one’s an arsehole. The barkeep says, ‘I’ll get the first two of ye a drink, but we dinna serve Sassenachs here.’”
The men roared with laughter, Sorley offering up another joke.
“I’ll be back. I need some air.” Fiona stood suddenly and exited the cave.
Brogan let her go for a minute, giving her privacy, and then he followed her, waiting by the mouth of the cave for a moment, Milla by his side.
The sun was starting to make its descent, painting the forest in interesting colors of pink and orange. The mountain ash tree outside the cave had started to bud with pretty pink flowering petals. Soon there’d be red berries on it, drawing birds and bees. He’d watched them for hours as a child and found himself wishing for those times again.
Fiona’s movement caught his eye. Milla trotted over to join her.
“There’s a nice vantage point of the moors over here,” Fiona called from where she leaned against a tree.
Brogan sauntered over, the two of them leaning together and watching the gentle wave of evening air brush against the grass in the distance. He glanced down at her, noticing the way the waning light played on the flames of her hair and colored her skin golden. Good Lord, she really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Fiona’s eyes caught his and they stared at each other, locked in silence. There was an intensity between them that had flared before they’d parted, and now that they were back together again only seemed to have grown molten.
His gaze drifted toward her lips, full and pink. What would it be like to kiss them? To brush his mouth over hers and just forget for a moment all of the past two weeks, two months, two years? Forget the word friends…and be something more?
“This is a nice vantage point too,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the moors. His gaze skated over her face, and pink blossomed on her cheeks.
She licked her lips, a nervous move, but one that made his gut clench at the sight of that tiny pink tip, and when his gaze went back to hers, Brogan saw hunger there. Fiona leaned forward, lips parted, and then she backed away again, hesitating. Had she been about to kiss him?
Brogan leaned down, coming close, his nose a mere half an inch from hers. He stilled, waiting for her to pull away. When she didn’t, he tilted his head and brushed his mouth over hers, drawing in a deep inhale. Lord, but he loved the scent of her.
Fiona sucked in a breath, not one that was shocked, but as if she too were trying to breathe him in. His hand came to rest on her hip, gently tapping, not wanting to possess too much and scare her away when he truly wanted to wrap his arms around her and haul her up against him.
Fingers curled into his shirt, and she pressed her mouth harder to his—hungry, needy, giving him permission to tug her closer. Arms around her waist, he brought their bodies together, turning his back to the tree with her leaning against him, giving her the control for the moment to step away if she wanted to.
But she didn’t.
Fiona’s hands slid over his chest to his shoulders, a hand to the back of his neck and then threading in his hair.
Her touch sent fervent shivers coursing through his body. Everything seemed magnified. His heart pounding against hers, the thrum of blood in his veins, the heat of his body, the sense of her curves pressed against him. Her scent, her taste, her touch, the little soft sighs escaping her. Brogan had never felt a kiss more deeply than he did at that moment. No other kiss had meant more.
He deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers, dipping his tongue into the crevice between her lips and coaxing her open for him. Which he didn’t have to work overly hard to do.
Fiona’s kiss was ardent and full of fire. As intense as he’d thought she’d be. The lass never did anything in half measure. And the passion coming off her in waves threatened to undo him.
Eight
Fiona was drowning in a sea of sensation.
Brogan’s body was hard against hers. His arms around her were solid and strong. His mouth soft, yielding, and demanding all at the same time. He tasted of sin and smelled like desire. Every second her mouth was on his, every moment she dragged her fingers in his hair and kneaded her palms into his taut muscles, it chipped away at the wall she’d built around herself.
The man was taking down her defenses one brush of his lips, tongue, and hands at a time. She was powerless to stop it.
Nay, that wasn’t exactly accurate. He’d given her all of the power in this instance. Pausing to let her walk away, skimming his mouth on hers, testing her, and then tugging her against him. She’d thought about pulling away for the briefest moment.
But curiosity and desire got the better of her.
Fiona had met many men, thousands of men, in her line of work, and in her own clan at the festivals and meetings of the rebels when she was younger. She’d developed a good sense of people by traveling so much and delivering messages. Knew when she was in danger and when she wasn’t.
The only thing she was in danger of now, with her lips slanted against Brogan’s, her tongue sliding deliciously over his, was losing herself. Losing sight of her mission.
The latter would be bad, but the former… Wouldn’t it be nice for once to relax and let pleasure take over? Let someone else take care of her?
Aye, it was all too easy to fall into that chain of thought.
Having seen her dear friend Jenny fall in love, Fiona knew it was possible to have a relationship with a man and still see a mission through. But Toran wasn’t like Brogan. Brogan wanted her to go home. Didn’t he?
Palms flat to his chest, she pushed away gently, staring into his hazy blue eyes and wishing she could just crash back into him.
“I’m no’ going home,” she said for good measure.
“I know.”
Keeping her voice strong, she added, “I willna be persuaded.”
“I know.” A soft grin played at the corners of his mouth, and his voice was whisper soft.