“Is your brother a Scotsman?” she asked.
“He is married to the MacArran and has taken her name.”
“He has given up a good English name for a Scot’s?” She was incredulous.
“Bronwyn could make a man do anything for her,” Raine said flatly.
Alyx bit her tongue to keep from making a snide comment about the idle, rich women Raine had always loved. Once she did say something of the sort and made Raine smile.
“Judith,” he said with such longing that Alyx winced. “In my life I have never spent a day working as hard as she does each day.”
“Chivalrous of you,” Alyx had snorted, disbelieving what he said.
It was in April that things began to happen. The camp of outlaws seemed docile all through winter, but as the trees began to bud and there was a breath of fresh air about, they began to fight. Not fight each other head on, but sneak up quietly and club someone.
Raine’s work increased a hundred fold. He was determined to keep order in the camp.
“Why do you bother?” Alyx snapped at him. “They aren’t worth your time.”
For the first time in a long while, she saw one of his dimples appear. “Can’t teach honor to one of their class, is that it? Only we are privy to those feelings.”
“We?” she snorted. “Since when have I become one of your satin-clad ladies? I’ll wager I can handle a sword as well as your Judith can handle a needle.”
For some reason this seemed to highly amuse Raine. “You’d win that bet,” he laughed. “Now come here and give me a kiss. I know you’re the best at that.”
Gladly, she clung to him. “Am I, Raine?” she asked seriously. She tried to live each day as it came, but sometimes she thought of the future, of seeing Raine with his lady-wife, of herself in the shadows.
“Now, what’s that look for?” he asked, tipping her chin up. “Am I so difficult to be around?”
“I’m just afraid, that’s all. We won’t always be in the forest.”
“That is something to be thankful for!” he said passionately. “No doubt decay has set into my house in these last months.”
“If you went to the King—” she began tentatively.
“Let’s not argue,” he whispered against her lips. “Is it possible to love a woman and hate her mind?”
Before Alyx could reply, he began to kiss her, and after that there was no thought of anything but the feel of him against her body. They were never very discreet; they couldn’t be. Although Alyx still kept up the pretense of working on the training field, she was never quite serious. Whenever she felt Raine’s eyes on her, she did everything she could to entice him to her. She teased him mercilessly.
And oh, what freedom the boy’s clothes gave her! Once when they’d gone hunting and were quite some distance from the camp, Alyx turned around in the saddle to face him and untied the triangle in front of her tight hose. Raine, at first astonished, soon began to react to her creativity. Within seconds, he, too, was unfastened and he pulled her on top of him.
They had not counted on Raine’s stallion. The horse, nostrils flaring, went wild at the smell of their lovemaking. Raine was fighting the horse and trying to hold onto Alyx’s ardent little body. But the point came when he could no longer control anything. As his body exploded in Alyx’s, the great beast reared, making Alyx’s eyes fly open in wonder.
Raine laughed so hard at her expression she was insulted. “No, I will not do it again,” he said, grinning. “And to think you spent most of your life inside a church. Now you’re”—he wiggled his brows—“riding horses.”
She made an attempt to snub him, but as she tried to turn around, she realized the triangular patch on her hose was missing. For an hour she had to bear Raine’s laughter while they scrounged in the leaves looking for the bit of fabric.
But Alyx had the last laugh. The sight of her so provocatively clad soon changed his words to honey. She, with all the pride she’d learned from him, made him fall to his knees and beg for her favors. Of course she hadn’t realized at what level his mouth would be with him on his knees and her standing. In seconds, it was Alyx begging for mercy.
After a long, leisurely lovemaking, Raine extracted her hose patch from his pocket—where it had been all along. As she pummeled his chest with her fists in mock fury, he kissed her until she was breathless.
“Learn who is the master here, wench,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “Now we must return to camp. That is, if my horse will let me ride him. No doubt he is as in love with you as you are with him.”
She tried not to, but she blushed furiously at his jest. Raine gave her taut buttocks a friendly slap and lifted her into the saddle. He shouted with laughter when the horse danced in protest as Raine mounted.
“He protests your weight, most likely,” she said smugly.
“You do not protest my weight, so why should he?”