Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum (the rosie project TXT) 📗

shiver and stomped forward toward the barn. Bloody hell, everything on Orkney was cold. Except Kára. She was warm. A fire to his ice. With her beside him, he could withstand the worst strike of cold.

He walked into the barn. With only two horses in it, the air was still icy, but the wind was blocked. Joshua ran a hand down his horse’s neck. “We will be back to Girnigoe Castle before the winter is fully here. I promise.”

Fuil tossed his head as if he understood, making Joshua smile. The door opened behind him, and his hand grabbed the hilt of the Sinclair sword that had been returned to him. He released it as Kára’s light tread moved over the dirt floor. She stopped to greet her horse, Broch, who lowered her head over the stall door for her to scratch.

“I think most of them will go,” she said. “And Amma will make sure Osk comes with us.”

He turned, leaning against the stall door. Kára stroked her horse, her strong, nimble hands following the pits and bony rises of her horse’s uniquely colored face. “Ye will not wed again?” he asked.

Her hand stayed for a moment but then continued. She did not look at him. “I married when I was seventeen. My heart was young and unguarded. When my husband was killed…the emotions of giving birth early, of worrying I would lose my babe as well…” She shook her head, not willing to look his way. “The more connections one makes, the more that can be lost, and the losses make me weak.”

“The thoughts of a warrior,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I am a warrior,” she said, giving him a small frown with a glance.

“Aye.” He heartily agreed with that. “Your heart can be armored, standing alone as a leader and warrior. But is it enough?”

Kára dropped her hands to rest on top of the stall door and turned her body toward him. “Enough for what?”

He shrugged. “Enough for being happy. ’Tis a long life if ye are lucky. But will it be years of bitter loneliness with your heart so guarded?”

She narrowed her eyes, a wry grin growing on those luscious lips. “You speak to me about matters of the heart, Horseman of War?”

“I know very little about the subject,” he conceded. “Although it seems lasses need more than…” He flipped his hand in the air, searching for the right words, words he did not know.

“More than what?”

“More than just leading and protecting,” he said, but the inflection made it sound like a question. The squinting of her eyes triggered his warrior instincts. “I thought lasses wanted more.” He shrugged.

“Wanting and needing are very different things,” she said, tipping her head to the side as she studied him. She stepped a little closer. “Like right now I want to touch you.”

His jack twitched in answer. Joshua raised an eyebrow as she stood right up against him, her breasts pressed into him slightly. “Ye do not jest?”

She shook her head, and he pulled her into him. The clever woman had ended their conversation about her not wanting to wed, but at the moment he did not care. His lips hovered directly over hers to where he could feel her shallow exhale as she waited for him to act.

“Ye want to touch me…” He inhaled the fragrance of her skin, sliding over to her ear. “But I will make ye need my touch, Kára lass,” he whispered there, his lips trailing over her warm neck. He felt her shiver, and his arms wrapped completely around her, pulling her up against his hard body.

Looking down into her face, flushed with want that he would turn to need, she was an angel with the desire for sin. She was the perfect match of heavenly beauty and delicious wickedness, and he felt his own desire turn to need.

Joshua watched her eyes close as he descended, and then he was lost in the feel of her open lips against his. Her fingers crept over his shoulders to tangle in his hair, pulling him to round down over her, engulfing her and surrounding her at the same time. He felt her leg hitch up over his hip, grinding the crux of her against his already raging jack.

“Kára!” Osk’s voice broke through the fire surging through Joshua.

He lifted his face from Kára’s, her lashes splayed under her closed eyes.

“Kára! Erik! ’Tis Chief Erik,” Osk yelled, and Kára’s body stiffened, pulling out of the circle Joshua had created with his arms.

“Erik?” Kára asked, her breath coming fast like Joshua’s.

“Aye,” Osk said, casting a glance between the two of them, but his gaze landed on his sister. “He has returned.” He shook his head, anger tightening his face. “But he is…” Osk shook his head, “altered.”

Chapter Seventeen

“The quality of decision is like the well-trained swoop of a falcon which enables it to

strike and destroy its victim.”

Sun Tzu – The Art of War

Osk ran out, and Kára glanced back at Joshua where he fought against his hard jack, adjusting it under his kilt. Thank heavens she did not have to deal with such obvious proof of her ardor, since every time she came in contact with the Highlander, fire licked up inside to melt away any mundane intentions.

“I need to go,” she said, pressing cool palms against her heated cheeks.

He nodded. “We will finish later.”

She let a grin settle on her lips and shrugged. “Because I want to.”

A roguish smile spread across his perfect lips, obviously seeing through her baiting. “Want or need. As long as I am buried between your thighs,” he whispered, and the edges of his white teeth came together. The words and the promise-filled gesture made her lower body clench in… It bloody hell felt like need, and she rubbed her hand over the crux of her legs to push the ache away, very much as if she had her own unruly jack with which to deal.

He grinned but only stepped forward