The Laird Who Loved Me

by Karen Hawkins

  Alexander could have throttled the woman. Caitlyn immediately turned her mount toward the field. The mare, seeing the wide-open spaces, gathered herself to bolt.

  Before Alexander could grab her bridle, they were gone.

  Lord Falkland blinked. “Goodness! I thought she’d—”

  Alexander thundered after Caitlyn, who was bent low and gripped the reins and mane as if her life depended on it. And looking at the cruel outcropping of rocks that dotted the field, it probably did.

  Good God, she’ll be killed if she lets go.

  Teeth clenched, Alexander leaned closer, urging his horse abreast of hers. It’s eyes wild, Caitlyn’s mount veered away, turning from the wide field and plunging toward the thick woods that lined the clearing. Alexander had to drop back and follow, the trees too close to allow him to pull up beside her. “Hang on, damn you!” he muttered through clenched teeth.

  Just ahead, Caitlyn clung desperately to the horse. Her hat was long gone, her blond hair falling from the pins. Alexander locked his gaze on her bright golden hair. “Just hold on!” he shouted hoarsely, unsure if she even heard his words.

  The trees thinned and a low rock wall appeared out of nowhere, covered in moss and dead limbs. On the other side, a small creek rushed, the sound filling the silence between the thudding of the hooves and Alexander’s desperate breath.

  If the horse took the wall, Caitlyn would fall. And it would be no soft landing, but a brutal throw into broken tree limbs and cold, slick rocks.

  Alexander bent low, urging his horse to hurry. Please, he pleaded silently with the fates. Please.

  Slowly, his horse gained. Just within a few strides of the wall, he reached out and grabbed the reins of her runaway mount.

  Alexander turned the animal at the last possible moment, the horse neighing loudly. For a few heartrending seconds he wasn’t sure if the horse would keep its footing, but after one huge slip when its head was dangerously lowered, it straightened and cantered beside him.

  Caitlyn clung to the mane, her body hugged against the horse’s arched neck.

  The second Alexander realized she was fine, a deep anger flared to life. The little fool could have been killed! What in hell was she doing on a horse like this? Yet even as he asked it, he knew the answer: it was because of his taunting. He’d pushed her, a woman who refused to be pushed, and this was the result.

  Damn it all, I refuse to feel guilt for her poor judgment!

  Alexander turned the horses down a short hill. The bay yanked on the reins and pulled away, threatening to rear, but he held it steady. Finally he found a narrow clearing between some trees and he stopped, turning his horse around to face Caitlyn and her bay.

  She had straightened, but her face was still pale. The afternoon light filtering through the trees was gray and uncertain, thanks to his barely contained temper, but it gleamed dimly on her golden hair. Her large eyes were even darker than usual. All around them, the woods grew misty and damp as the first drops of rain filtered between the few remaining leaves and sprinkled across them. The beads of water clung to Caitlyn’s hair like diamonds in a web of gold, and his throat tightened inexplicably. The image of her delicate body broken at the foot of a stone wall . . .

  She slowly released her death grip on her horse’s mane and said in an unsteady voice, “Thank you for—” She closed her eyes and caught her breath before adding, “You may let go of my horse now.”

  “If I do, it will just bolt again.”

  “I won’t let it.”

  “Damn it, must you argue with everything I say?” He was as furious with himself as with her, though he wouldn’t allow her to see that. “Your horse was headed right for that wall! Do you know how fortunate you are that I was here to stop it?”

  Her chin shot up, her eyes blazed, as color once again warmed her cheeks. “Perhaps I could have taken the wall!”

  “And broken your damn neck!” He was shouting and he didn’t care. The wind whipped the trees overhead, rustling the branches as huge drops of water sprayed down upon them.

  He’d had enough. He dismounted, looped the reins for his and Caitlyn’s mounts over a low branch, then pulled her down, slipped an arm about her waist, and set her hard upon her feet.

  “Oh! I didn’t wish to get off my horse!”

  “Too bad. This way, if it bolts, no one is in danger.”

  Her hands fisted at her sides, her chin lifting another notch. “Look, MacLean, I—”

  He scooped her up and kissed her. He’d had enough with useless words and meaningless gestures. He wanted to show her what he meant, let her feel his anger. But the second his lips touched hers, something changed. The anger left and in its place was a flood of passion so hot it threatened to consume them both.

  She didn’t fight his embrace. The moment his mouth touched hers, she threw her arms about his neck and plastered herself to him. She was slight, and as he wrapped his arms about her and lifted, her feet cleared the ground and she was all his.

  Their kiss consumed and burned, lengthening into an embrace that begged for more. Her soft mouth was intoxicating, and when her tongue brushed his lips, he moaned deeply, his passion roaring to life.

  The hotter the kiss became, the more his inner voice told him to stop, to let her go, to walk away. This is what took Charles down. This is how he began. The thoughts cooled his ardor, but it still took every ounce of his inner discipline to finally set her down and step away.

  She loosened her hold on his neck, but didn’t drop her arms. She stared up at him, brown eyes wide, lips swollen and parted, a dazed expression on her face. He knew exactly how she felt.

  What was it about this woman that ignited his passion in such a way? It wasn’t just her beauty—he’d had plenty of beautiful women before, though none so stunning. But it was more than that. It was as if an invisible fire simmered between them that ignited at the mere brush of her skin against his.

  She seemed to suddenly realize that he’d released her, and she hastily stepped away, hugging herself like a forlorn child.

  Alexander’s first instinct was to pull her back to him, but he fought it. Was this how Charles had felt when he’d first met that witch who would become his wife? Had he been in the grip of just such an attraction?

  Large raindrops filtered down through the leaves, the water cooling his passion, allowing his thoughts to return to normal. This was exactly how Charles felt, and it’s why you won’t allow it to affect you. He set his jaw. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “No.” Her voice quivered a bit, as if she was uncertain.

  “You made me angry and I—” He shrugged. “I reacted.”

  She took a deep breath. “You … you were right. Not about the kiss, but … you were right about the horse. I should have told the groom I didn’t have enough experience for such a mount.”

  The rain, plopping from the branches overhead and dripping to the dead leaves and moss of the forest floor, filled the silence. Alexander didn’t know what to say. For the first time in his life, he was at a complete loss for words.

  “I wasn’t thinking, and I let my temper interfere with my judgment. I shouldn’t have allowed that to happen.”

  He recognized the sincerity in her voice and knew it should have been enough; he was partly to blame for this debacle, and he knew it. Yet he wanted more from her. She owed him more. “You think you can do whatever you damn well want and just toss out an apology and it’s over.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she shoved a strand of wet hair from her cheek. “No, but it’s a start. Don’t you apologize when you’ve done something wrong?”

  He wished she didn’t look so adorably mussed, as if she’d just been thoroughly loved, which she’d almost been. Even now, his manhood throbbed at the memory of her in his arms, of her lush breasts pressed against him, her soft mouth opening beneath his kiss— He fought a groan as a hot spear of longing ripped through him, the heat fanning his anger. “When I make a decision, it’s because I’ve t
hought things out. That way I never have to apologize for a decision I’ve made.”

  “Oh! You are insufferable! And I thought I had too much pride! Beware, MacLean: statements like that might entice fate to teach you a lesson you well deserve.”

  He had to smile, though he shrugged. “I am merely speaking the truth, Hurst. If you’d stop and think before you acted, you might not have to apologize so much. You haven’t ridden since you left London, have you?”

  “Yes, I have. I rode the squire’s extra horse.”

  “Oh? And is that a lively mount? As lively as Milk?”

  “Milk?”

  “That’s your horse’s name, which you would know if you’d listened to the groom.”

  She glanced over to where the bay was munching grass. “The squire’s horse may not be quite as lively as Milk.”

  Alexander lifted a brow.

  “Oh, fine, then!” She glared at him. “It was a perfect slug and wouldn’t even trot, must less canter. There. Are you happy now?”

  “I am if that’s the truth.”

  She stiffened. “I’m not a liar, MacLean.”

  “No. You’re a person who is willing to do and say whatever it takes to get what you want.”

  Her cheeks pinkened yet more. “I’m not like that at all!”

  “I’ve never seen you act on anything but self-interest. You could have been hurt!”

  She scowled. “I know, and so could the horse, as well, which is why I will never do such a foolish thing again. Will you please stop lecturing me? You sound just like my father!”

  Alexander blinked. “Your father? The vicar?”

  She nodded, her eyes suddenly gleaming with humor. “You sound exactly like him. ‘Caitlyn, don’t lean so far out your window or you’ll fall!’” she mimicked. “‘Caitlyn, don’t run in the house or you’ll trip over something.’ My father’s a dear, but a bit fusty.”

  Fusty! Alexander didn’t know what to say. No one compared him to his or her father or to an old vicar. People called him dangerous! “You have a damn large amount of impudence.”

  She pushed her hair from her face. “That’s exactly what Father would say—except for the damn. He’s not one to use such language.”

  “Damn or no damn, it’s what anyone with any common sense would say,” Alexander said sharply. The wind whipped harder, rustling the trees and sending a shower of wet leaves to the ground.

  Caitlyn plucked a large, wet leaf from her shoulder. “MacLean, you aren’t really angry with me for accepting a horse that was more than I could handle. This is all about what happened three months ago in London.”

  He stiffened. “It’s about your behavior and the fact that you put both yourself and your mount at risk.”

  Her gaze darkened. “I didn’t mean to put anyone at risk—not now, and especially not three months ago. MacLean, I—”

  “We are not going to discuss that now. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s going to rain. These sprinkles are just the beginning.”

  She glanced up at the sky through the break in the trees. “You made this storm.”

  He didn’t answer but met her gaze evenly, waiting for the usual flicker of fear or a flash of envy, but all he found was a calm certainty. She’s brave, I’ll give her that. “As storms go, it’s a small one, but it’s still going to be wet.”

  “I’m not afraid of a little water,” she returned smartly. “MacLean, whatever mistakes were made in London are long over. That was three months ago!”

  His gaze narrowed. “Yes, but Hugh and your sister are paying for it now.”

  She sighed. “They’re in love. While my thoughtless actions put them in the unfortunate position where they were forced to marry, they are happy now, and that’s all that matters.”

  Alexander scowled. “No, that’s not all that matters. You set a trap to force me to marry you.”

  Her lips thinned. “MacLean, I never wished to marry you. I was only going to hide in your carriage as you left town, showing myself after it was too late to return.”

  “Which would force me to offer for you.”

  She shrugged. “Yes, but I wasn’t going to accept.”

  The rain began to fall in earnest, but Alexander was too stunned to notice. “You … you were going to refuse me?”

  She nodded.

  “Why in hell would you want me to propose if you weren’t going to accept?”

  “Because you said you’d never do it,” she said with a touch of uncertainty. “You do remember saying that, don’t you?”

  He frowned. Had he ever . . . Oh, God. He didn’t know. He’d kissed her senseless, which had the unfortunate effect of making him just as witless. Surely, he’d remember making such an arrogant statement.

  She pushed her loose hair from her face, a raindrop glistening on her cheek. “I planned on refusing you and relishing every moment. I thought you’d find it humorous, too, after you realized I had no intention of going through with it.” She bit her lip. “I suppose that was a bit naive.”

  She was telling the truth; he could read it as clearly as if it were printed across her forehead. Her plan had almost succeeded, too. His jaw tensed as the heat of the curse rippled through his veins, a hot surging that was both exhilarating and, because he knew the damage it could do, frightening. When he’d been a youth, he’d loved that feeling, had craved it. But as he grew older and saw the destruction the curse caused, he’d learned to fight it. Only one other feeling matched that pure exhilaration—the touch of a woman’s hot mouth. And in his life, no woman had excited him more than Caitlyn.

  The wind ruffled her skirts and tossed her golden hair about her face. Damn it, what was it about this woman? Just looking at her in the leaf-covered forest, her hair damp and curling about her face, dressed in a severe, overly proper riding habit of deep brown, heated his blood. She glanced up at the rain-filled sky that peeked between the treetops, the light tracing her soft, full lips.

  And once again, he understood the temptation Charles had felt when faced with his ultimate ruin, the pull of a totally sensual and inappropriate woman. Gritting his teeth, Alexander turned and strode to the horses. This was the woman who’d caused his brother harm, yet here he was, lusting after her like a slavering youth.

  Disgusted with himself, he gathered the horses’ reins and led them over. “We’re leaving.”

  “But I—”

  He picked her up and tossed her into the saddle, holding fast to the reins. She flashed him a hot, angry look, then hooked her knee over the pommel and arranged her skirts so that they weren’t flapping down the horse’s side. Her movements lacked her usual fluid grace, and he took grim satisfaction in knowing that she was as upset as he.

  He leaped onto his mount and turned toward where they’d entered the woods, urging his horse forward at a hard trot and pulled her horse after him.

  Caitlyn was left to hang on. Since he’d started without her foot being properly inserted in the stirrup, she had nothing to give her the leverage necessary to keep her seat. As a result, she was bounced all over the hard leather saddle. “M-M-MacLean, st-stop!” Her teeth were practically rattling in her head.

  MacLean rode on, unaware or uncaring as she struggled to hang on. The wild bumping was painful and the rough pace sent her hair flying even worse. She didn’t dare loosen her hold on the saddle to push her hair back until a stubborn tendril worked its way across her face, tickled her nose, and obscured her vision. Frustrated, she released one hand from the pommel.

  But as she lifted her hand, her other slipped from its tenuous grasp and she fell to one side. Instantly, two large hands yanked her to safety.

  Alexander had been lost in his own black thoughts when he felt rather than saw Caitlyn slip. He instinctively stopped his horse, leaned back, grasped her by one arm, and yanked her across his lap.

  The skirt of her riding habit fluttered wildly as she struggled to sit upright. Cursing, he slipped an arm beneath her waist, lifted her, and settled her on his lap,
her ass pressed into his groin. His body immediately responded, and he cursed again as the rain began to pour in earnest, drenching them.

  She clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder, her breath warm on his neck. His body ached with awareness, and a short rumble of thunder reminded him that rain wasn’t their only danger.

  He quickly leaned back and tied Caitlyn’s horse to the back of his saddle, then guided the horses through the small copse of trees, the rain pouring across them. With each step the horse took, Caitlyn’s warm bottom rocked across his lap. The rose scent of her wet hair tickled his nose and mixed with the fresh-rain scent, and he found himself fighting the most absurd urge to settle her even more firmly against him until her full breasts pressed against his chest. A flash of desire, hot and raw, roared through him, and his arms tightened about her.

  A faint tremor racked her body, and he immediately relaxed his hold. He tried to force his body to follow suit. Yet even the cold, drenching rain did nothing to quench his arousal.

  She was a damnably sensual armful, and it was becoming an agony holding her in such a way. As soon as he reached the other side of the trees, the rain eased to a drizzle. He pulled his big bay to a halt and allowed Caitlyn to slide to the ground, his throat tightening as her full breasts pressed against his thigh.

  “We should get you back on your mount.” He climbed down and untied her horse from his saddle. “The pathway is narrow and slick, and it will be safer on separate horses.”

  She gathered the long train of her riding habit, blinking up at him through the rain, her lashes spiked about her large, brown eyes. “I hope we reach the inn soon; I’m cold.”

  “We’re not going to the inn.”

  “But … that’s where the group went and—”

  “We’re closer to the house, and I’ve no wish to catch the ague.” He grasped her by the waist and lifted her up on her horse. She hooked her knee over the pommel and he settled her boot into the stirrup, waiting until he saw her hook her heel firmly over the metal band.

  Alexander swung up onto his own horse, then took her horse’s reins and guided his horse on, careful not to go too fast now because the rain made every leaf-covered rock a potential hazard. For the next twenty minutes, they silently picked their way through a narrow stretch of woods before emerging above the house. Once they reached the drive, footmen rushed to assist them, Hay coming out with a large umbrella that he held over Caitlyn’s soaked head.