“I need you, Jillian St. Clair. Ever since I tossed you up on my horse I’ve been wanting nothing more than to drag you back off it and bury myself in you, without a word of explanation or apology—because I need you.”

“Yes,” she whispered fervently. “That’s what I want!”

With a swift stroke he plunged deeply into her, but the storm was in her body and it raged with the devastating fury of a hurricane.

She tossed her head back and freed her voice, crying out to him, only the creatures of the wilderness to hear. She moved against him urgently, her hips rising to meet every thrust. Her hands clawed at his shoulders and she raised her legs, wrapping them tightly around his waist, locking her ankles over his muscled hips. With each thrust he pressed her back against the tree trunk and she used it to rock herself back into him, taking him as deeply into her body as she could. Only the sounds of passion escaped their lips; words simply weren’t needed. Bonding and pledging through contact, their bodies spoke in a tongue ancient and unmistakable.

“Jillian!” he roared as he exploded inside her. An unfettered laugh of delight escaped her as the rush of his liquid warmth inside her pushed her over the edge of pleasure, and she bucked against him.

They held on to each other for a reverent moment. Leaning against her in a soft crush, he seemed reluctant to move, as if he wanted to stay joined to her forever. And when he began to stiffen inside her, she knew she’d convinced him that a little cold air was good for the soul.

Grimm whistled for Occam. Summoning his horse from the woods, he tightened the tethers on the packs. It was full dark, and they needed to be on their way. There was no shelter to be secured tonight, but by the following day they would be far enough into the Highlands that he could provide shelter for them each night to come. He glanced over his shoulder at Jillian. It was imperative to him that he keep her happy, warm, and safe. “Are you hungry, Jillian? Are you dry enough? Warm enough?”

“No, yes, and yes. Where are we going, Grimm?” she asked, still feeling dreamy from their intense lovemaking.

“There’s an abandoned cottage a day’s ride from here.”

“I didn’t mean now, I meant where are you taking me after that?”

Grimm pondered his answer. He’d originally planned to ride directly to Dalkeith, then leave as soon as they’d gathered his fortune and loaded the horses. But he’d begun to think running might not be necessary. He’d spent much of their time on the ride from Caithness mulling over something Quinn had said. Hell, man, rouse an army and fight the McKane once and for all. I know scores of men who would fight for you. I would. As would the Hawk’s army, as well as many of the men he’d known at court, men who fought for hire.

Grimm loathed the idea of taking Jillian away from Scotland, from her family. He knew what it was like to be without a clan. If he triumphed over the McKane, he could purchase an estate near her family and have only one demon to battle. He could devote his energy to concealing his nature and making Jillian a fine husband.

Promise me you’ll tell her the truth, Quinn had demanded in a low, urgent whisper against his ear.

Grimm had nodded.

But he hadn’t said when, he prevaricated lamely as he studied her innocent features. Maybe next year, or a lifetime from now. In the meantime, he had other battles to wage.

“Dalkeith. My good friend and his wife are laird and lady there. You’ll be safe with them.”

Jillian snapped to attention, dreamy reverie squashed by the thought of an impending separation. “What do you mean, I will be safe there? Don’t you mean we will be safe there?”

Grimm fidgeted with Occam’s saddle.

“Grimm—we, right?”

He muttered, deliberately incoherent.

Jillian eyed him a moment and snorted delicately. “Grimm, you don’t plan to take me to Dalkeith and leave me there by myself, do you?” Her eyes narrowed, forecasting a tempest if such was his intention.

Without raising his head from an intent inspection of Occam’s tethers, he replied, “Only for a time, Jillian. There’s something I must do, and I need to know you’ll be safe while I’m doing it.”

Jillian watched him fidget and considered her options. “His good friend and his wife,” he’d said, people who would know something about her man of mystery. That was promising, if not her preference. She wished he would confide in her, tell her what kept him solitary, but she would work with what she could get. Maybe what had happened in his past was too painful for him to discuss. “Where is Dalkeith?”