Then, as this morn, she’d been sure he’d meant to kiss her. And each time, she’d almost wished he would. There was something wickedly exciting about his devilish handsomeness and those dark, flashing eyes. Yet in the wood earlier – and during their tangle years before - he’d only held her fast and pinned her with a mocking glare.
Most galling, she was sure he’d also laughed at her.
She hadn’t missed how his lips had twitched in Alasdair’s solar when she’d fixed him with her own stare, declaring he was full of chivalry and honor.
He’d howled with laughter the other time, up on the high moorland.
But it wasn’t the memory of his youthful mirth that stayed with her, haunting her all these years. It was - and she hated him for this – how his dashing looks and boldness made every other lad who’d paid court to her, seem pale and lifeless beside him.
That long ago day, she’d let her eyes blaze at him, determined to prove her own bravery and daring.
* * *
The years fell away, and she recalled their meeting. It might have been long ago, but it felt like yesterday. Confronted by a young James Cameron, she’d flipped back her hair, her gaze one of challenge.
He only cocked a brow, unimpressed.
“Fire in your eye will serve you naught in these parts, lassie.” His strong grip on her arms felt dangerous, making her believe him. “This is Cameron land and you” – his dark gaze flicked over her, then locked with her own – “as a MacDonald are no’ welcome here.”
“I know that.” She met his stare, hotly. “It’s not you that I came to see. I wanted-”
“You wished to see the Makers of Dreams, I know.” He was already shepherding her down through the heather, away from the high moors where she’d been heading. “I have ears, see you? I heard well what you told me. But I’m here to tell you, it was a mistake to come here.
“Grizel and Gorm only speak with Camerons.” He flashed a grin at her. It was full of malice. “They stay hidden to everyone else. But if you did find them, be warned that they turn anyone in our disfavor into toads. All it takes is a word cast to the wind and your fate would be sealed. You could then spend eternity in Cameron territory, hopping about on four slimy, wart-covered legs.”
“Pah! I do not believe a word.” Catriona tried to jerk free, but her efforts only made him grip her arm more tightly. “You’re just trying to scare me.”
He stopped, swinging her around to face him. “Aye, well. If you’re no’ bothered about being spelled into a toad, perhaps you’ll think deeper on what might happen if one of the dreagans gets you?” His gaze slid meaningfully to the bottom of the hill where thick mist filled the heart of the glen. It was there, she knew, where strange rock formations were said to be sleeping dragons.
She followed his gaze, but clamped her lips, not deigning him an answer.
But his mention of the dreagans did send shivers along her nerves. More than a few of the MacDonald elders claimed the beasts were real.
James gave her a very direct look, his face bitter earnest. “I cannae say for sure, but I’ve heard thon dreagans relish fiery-haired maids. Belike someone also said they’re especially fond of MacDonalds.
“Word is” – he leaned close, so near that his warm breath brushed her cheek – “they eat a body whole, cracking the bones with glee and lapping up the blood for sauce.”
“Fie on you for telling such lies. Why you’re….” She glared at him, temper taking her breath.
“I’m much worse than a dreagan.” He sounded proud of his claim. “You’ll have to take your chances with the fire-breathing beasties. But if e’er I catch you on Cameron ground again, you’ll wish yourself in their clutches and no’ in mine, that I say you!”
“Oh?” She felt herself flushing. “What would you do, other than spout tall tales?”
“I’m thinking I’d best no’ tell you.” He released her then and tossed his plaid over shoulders that already hinted at how broad they’d be in manhood.
“And I’m thinking I don’t care to know.” Catriona brushed at her skirts, vigorously.
“Then be off with you, Catriona MacDonald, before I do tell you.” He stepped close again and gave her a look that squeezed her chest tighter than his hands had gripped her arms. It was a hot, entirely unpleasant sensation that made it hard to breathe and filled her with such a floodtide of fizzy prickles that her knees wobbled.
“Better yet, perhaps I should show you….” He reached for her then, his dark eyes glinting, but she whirled and ran from him.
She tore through the glen on winged feet, not risking a backward glance until Blackshore’s walls rose before her. Only then did she stop hearing the echo of his laughter in her ears. It was as she’d leaned, panting, against the curtain wall, that she’d realized why she’d run so hard.
It hadn’t been because of his foolish talk of Old Ones who would transform her into a toad or even his warning about the dreagans and their appetite for MacDonalds.
It was the wave of giddiness that swept her when he’d stepped so close and threatened to kiss her.
That was what he’d meant.
She’d known it with a certainty beyond her years.
Just as she’d known she’d thrill to his embrace. He’d stirred irresistible desires and longings in her, initiating her in a woman’s passion. And considering he was who he was, that was a terrible thing.
For the sad truth was, she’d run from her family’s wrath, not James Cameron’s kisses.
She’d wanted those.
* * *
But she didn’t want them now.
Far from it, she blinked away the memory.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop her pulse from racing with annoyance as she stared across the loch. Morning sun struggled through the clouds, making the water dance and shimmer. Her necklace also shimmied. Or rather, she fancied she’d felt a slight trembling deep inside the stones. She frowned and reached up to clasp them between her fingers, running her thumb across each stone.
They weren’t humming.
But she did hear the crunch of footsteps on stone. The sound came from behind her, near the seaward gate. Her breath caught and she knew even as she turned around that James would be there.
And he was.
He’d taken a few steps onto the strand and stood in all his vaunting glory, the wind tugging at his plaid and riffling his hair. He was looking right at her, an unmistakable glint of amusement in his dark gaze. Something else was there, too. An indefinable something that made her feel slightly faint, even breathless. Not wanting him to guess, she narrowed her eyes, giving him her own coldest stare. In response, he flashed just the kind of smile that reminded her why he was so powerfully attractive. He made no attempt to come closer, but that didn’t matter.
He could be on the moon and she’d still feel as if he were right before her, banishing the world around them and making her heart hammer wildly.
She resented how his tall, broad-shouldered presence seemed to claim the little boat strand, almost as if he owned the very air around them. He did cause a flurry of shivers to ripple through her and she straightened her back, hoping he couldn’t tell.
“Lady Catriona.” His smile deepened, turning devilish.
“You…” She took several steps closer to him, then stopped when she realized she’d moved. “You shouldn’t be here with me-” She started to tell him to leave, but broke off when he raised a hand.
“I am no’ with you, regrettably.” His meaning brought a flush to her face. “If I were” – he gave her a look that made her feel naked – “rest assured you’d no’ be spluttering like an angry hen. You’d be purring in sweet, female contentment. As things are-”
“There are no things between us.” Catriona felt hot color rush onto her cheeks. “You are arrogance walking!”
“I have been called worse. Though” - he glanced at the guards lining the wall-walk above them, then back to her - “no’ usually when I am trying to b
e honorable. Do you truly believe I’d offend your brother’s hospitality by compromising his sister beneath his very nose?”
Catriona couldn’t respond. She believed every wicked tale she’d ever heard about him. Most especially the wilder stories that claimed he kept scores of women trapped in the impenetrable fastnesses of Rannoch Moor and visited them regularly, forcing them to satisfy his basest cravings. She shivered, just imagining. Yet everything female inside her whirled in hot tumult and she was sure that if she opened her mouth, all the sordid images conjured by his words would come spilling out to shame her.
Purring in sweet contentment…
She bristled.
She’d known for years what his touch could do to a woman. At least, she knew what he did to her. How she wished she didn’t, for she’d be long wed and bouncing bairns on her knee if her secret obsession with him hadn’t made all her suitors seem like toads.
She also knew he spoke the truth.
He was too proud to mar his lairdly reputation by breaching Highland hospitality codes. She could prance naked before him and he wouldn’t look at her – save with scorn - so long as she performed such a spectacle beneath Alasdair’s roof.
“I see you agree.” He spoke at last, sounding satisfied.
“I said nothing.”
“But you’re eager to know why I’m here.”
She tucked a curl behind her ear, feigning indifference. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“I wanted to leave you with a warning.” He looked across the loch to the distant hills. “Know that if I find you on Cameron land again, alone and without your brother’s knowledge, I will no’ be as gallant as I was this morn.
“Indeed” - his dark gaze fixed on her – “I will make good my threat from the last time.”
Catriona’s eyes widened. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
She knew exactly what he meant.
And the words made her light-headed. Shimmering desire warmed her and she was sharply aware of him coming across the strand towards her, his strides predatory.
“That’s right, Catriona.” He spoke when he reached her, his voice intimately low. “I will prove to you that my kisses will scorch you far worse than any dreagan’s fire-breath. They’d brand you forever.
“So” – he cupped her chin, his touch searing her – “if you’ll no’ be wishing to taste them, take heed and keep to the safety of your lady’s bower.”
Catriona stood still, sure the air between them was about to burst into flame. But before she could regain her composure, he leaned in, bringing his face dangerously close to hers.
“See you, sweet” - he gave her a look that made her hot all over – “you rouse me even when I’m not holding you crushed against me. Dinnae make me show you what’ll happen if you tempt me into kissing you.”
Catriona’s heart flipped. Her knees began to tremble, badly. “I-”
“You’ve been warned, lass.” He tightened his grip on her chin and stared down at her, his eyes fierce. Then he turned and strode back across the little strand, disappearing through the seaward gate.
Catriona stared at the empty archway, unable to breathe. The force of her feelings – her surprise – shook her to the core. She pressed a hand to her breast, letting her fingers clasp her amber necklace, needing the familiar comfort she took in the gemstones.
He hadn’t forgotten their long ago meeting, high on the moors.
And his agitation could only mean that the encounter haunted him in the same way it’d stayed with her. He wanted her – at least, carnally.
She’d seen the lust in his eyes, heard it in his voice.
It was a revelation that thrilled her to her toes. Even though she did despise him and knew well that he surely didn’t favor her. Yet there was passion between them. The only trouble was that she didn’t know where such desire might lead. Whatever path she chose was fraught with danger.
Any kisses from James wouldn’t just brand her.
They’d be incinerating.
And forbidden.
Alasdair might even punish her by seeing her wed to some bleary-eyed, age-palsied laird who couldn’t keep his dribble from his beard.
Of late, he’d hinted at the possibility.
If – she shuddered - she dared to once again to decline a viable bid for her hand.
But she burned too hotly for James to care. Nor was she known for backing away from a challenge. She certainly couldn’t resist one that made her feel all warm, melting, and tingly. James did that to her, and more. Even now, annoyed with him as she was, her stomach fluttered deliciously and her knees were so weak she could hardly stand.
If he kissed her….
And, o-o-oh, she wanted his kisses.
One would do, just to satisfy her curiosity and let her explore the tumultuous emotions and exciting sensations he stirred inside her.
She turned back to the loch, smiling for the first time in days. She’d take his own words and make him regret tossing down such a tantalizing gauntlet. She would tempt him into kissing her. A plan to do so was already forming in her mind. And the possibilities sent shivers of anticipation rippling all through her.
One little kiss should be easy to provoke.
Afterwards, she might feel shaken to the soul, perhaps even worse than sinful. But she will have tasted a wee bit of sparkling bliss.
And – she shook back her hair, her heart pounding – she wasn’t going to let anyone take that from her.
Chapter 4
James strode purposely across Blackshore’s bailey, careful to keep his face as hard-set as possible. If he looked fierce, the long-nosed guards watching him wouldn’t suspect how tempted he was to march back to the boat strand, toss Catriona over his shoulder, and carry her away with him. But first, he’d seize her and kiss the wicked breath from her for pushing him to his limits.
Instead, he quickened his pace and made for the gatehouse, eager to be gone.
He could make his head ache on his own, without the help of a firebrand more vexatious and – a plague on her – so scintillating, he wondered she didn’t burn the clothes right off her lushly curved body.
If he didn’t soon put Blackshore behind him, he’d do the deed himself. The rapid beat of his heart proved how much he’d enjoy ripping each shred of cloth from her until the entire well-made length of her stood naked before him, vulnerable and enticing.
The trouble was he had no wish to add his already long list of sins by stripping the gently-born sister of one of his worst foes.
He was of a mind to be wary.
He’d been shown hospitality, but he was still on enemy ground and couldn’t discount an attack from nowhere. MacDonalds were known for their hot-headedness. And not all of them were as courteous as Alasdair, even if his open-handedness had more to do with the circumstances of James’ visit than any desire to be welcoming.
Alasdair wouldn’t taint his name by not adhering to the Highland tradition of greeting all guests warmly, regardless of their name.
In another time and place, Alasdair would show his blood. Everyone knew MacDonalds were masters at ambush. They flitted like shadows from darkness to launch assaults and then melted into the mist before a man knew what - or who - had struck him a fatal blow.
James scowled, sure of that truth.
It was just a pity that the threat of a quick dirk in the ribs wasn’t the reason for his frown.
That honor fell to a lusciously rousing hellcat named Catriona.
Overwhelmed by the urge to touch and taste her, he tightened his fists as he neared the gate. The brazen minx stirred him in ways he couldn’t ignore. And – damn her snapping sapphire eyes - he found her most appealing when she was at her lively, high-spirited worst.
There was vibrancy in every mouthwatering, sweetly-turned curve of her and it galled him that he noticed. He’d come very close to ravishing her on the little sliver of a boat strand. And if he had, his plundering of her would’ve been rough and sava
ge. He wasn’t a man to hold back in a fury. And his rage at her – and himself because he wanted her – roiled like a storm inside him.
Hot, thunderous, and barely controlled.
His blood seethed and head would surely split any moment. Praise God he had the will to ignore the persistent pounding elsewhere.
A pity he couldn’t banish it.
But it’d been so long since he’d slaked his need with a woman and – he loathed admitting the truth - the sharp-tongued, dagger-carrying hellion itched him more than any female he’d ever known.
Grimacing, he stalked on, keeping an angry eye on the gate before him.
Already standing wide – no doubt in anticipation of his departure – the gate gave a fine view of Loch Moidart. Mist still floated across the water and he caught the strong scent of the nearby sea. The air also held traces of drying fish and seaweed, the unsavory smells lending just enough nose-wrinkling piquancy to suit his mood.
Catriona wasn’t the only reason for his ire.
Blackshore’s courtyard minded him too much of his bailey at Castle Haven. Even the smoke rising from the tower chimneys and the yellow glint of torchlight in the turret windows struck him as an affront.
The similarity almost made him choke.
He’d rather have found black, foul-reeking weeds growing between the courtyard cobbles and a gaggle of hunch-backed, wart-nosed crones cackling in a corner, their glowing-eyed, hissing and spitting felines winding about their mistresses’ spindly legs. At the very least, the arched pend leading through the gatehouse could’ve been hung with the winged bodies of a few bats.
A cauldron filled with a steaming, blood-red brew would have been a nice touch.
As things stood….
Men bustled everywhere, a handful of dogs bounded over to run circles around him, and several strapping lads were pulling carts piled high with cut wood and peats toward the shadowed entrance to the kitchens. A chill wind came from that direction, bringing a waft of woodsmoke and savory stew, making his mouth water.
Sins of a Highland Devil: Highland Warriors Book 1 Page 6