“And what would that be?”
She felt completely lost in the depths of his dark, stormy eyes. “Right now, all I want to do is lie with you here on my bed, feel your arms around me, hold you close, and never let you go.” She backed away as a painful shiver coursed through her. “But a guard is standing outside that door and my father might still be executed if I do not keep my oath to Lord Rutherford. If I don’t go to Chatham tonight, I might as well sign my father’s death warrant. What would you have me do, Darach?”
He regarded her with fierce intensity. “Come away with me.”
She angrily shook her head. “How can you suggest that? You are asking me to choose between you and my father.”
“Aye,” he replied.
Growing angrier still, she turned away and strode to the opposite side of the room. “Maybe it’s easier for you. Your father is already dead and you have no family of your own, except for Logan. You abandoned your clan years ago, but I am not built like that. I am loyal to those I love.”
“Do not insult me, lass. I am loyal, too,” he said, his footfalls slow across the floor as he approached. “And you would be my family. I would be loyal to you.”
She whirled around. “But how could I trust you to remain so? How do I know you wouldn’t one day flee my side for some unknown reason and take up with another woman in another clan? Change your name again? You’re not even who you pretend to be. You’re not a true MacDonald. You’re an imposter, lying to everyone who knows you. How can I give up everything I know for a man I know so little about?”
He stared at her long and hard. “I am a true MacDonald, for I have given my oath to Angus and I will never betray that oath. If you don’t believe me, then you should go to your fiancé. Walk out of here now and do not look back. I’ll be gone by the time you return. You won’t ever hear from me again.”
Her heart wrenching sorely in her chest, Larena couldn’t catch her breath. “Please…I don’t want us to part like this.”
“What difference does it make how we part? It’s a bad ending, no matter how you try to dress it up.”
Tears flooded her eyes. “But I don’t want there to be bad blood between us. I don’t want you to remember our time together with a feeling of ill will. I want to go on dreaming of you, imagining you out there somewhere, thinking of me fondly at least, hoping I am well, as I will always wish the same for you.”
The ferocity in his eyes softened and he slowly shook his head. “You’re making it worse, lass. Show a man some pity, will you?”
She understood immediately what he was trying to tell her. “You would find it easier to hate me.”
“Aye, but I’m not sure that will be possible, because if I think you’re dreaming about me or wanting me, I will keep coming back for you. I will return, again and again, over and over, until the day I draw my last breath.”
A torrent of desire welled up inside her. She backed away from him, trying to deny it, wishing he wouldn’t say such things. “Darach, please.”
Despite the words, somehow he read into her soul and recognized the deep chink in her armor. Confidently striding forward, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. Her lips parted for him and she fell into the blinding force of his passion. At the same time, she felt as if she were being ripped in two.
Darach swept her up, carried her to the bed, and set her down again. He stood back, massive in the candlelight, looming over her.
“Don’t go to him,” he commanded. “Stay here with me. All night.”
“I can’t promise that,” she replied.
“Maybe not now,” he replied, “but I can change your mind. Do you want me, lass? Do you want to feel my hands on you? My mouth? Will you let me taste you everywhere, touch you and pleasure you for hours on end until you can’t even speak? Until you can do nothing but sigh with rapture?”
His provocative words shook her, body and soul, and all at once, the whole world disappeared. Unable to stop herself, she rose up on her knees and kissed him passionately on the mouth, then she sat back on her heels. Her hands moved down to his hips and she stroked his big powerful thighs over the top of his kilt.
The corner of his mouth curled up in a knowing smile of seductive allure, and he spoke in a smooth voice that crushed whatever remained of her resolve.
“Do you want me, lass?” he asked a second time. “Would you like to touch what’s under here?” He gestured toward his kilt.
“Aye,” she replied, shuddering and quaking in total arousal.
Darach reached down and unbuckled the leather belt at his waist. He tossed it aside, then the plaid came loose and dropped heavily to the floor.
Still standing over her, Darach pulled his loose linen shirt over his head and stood before her, completely nude. She gazed at him in astonishment and he allowed her time to admire the stunning spectacle of his body—the broad muscular chest and shoulders, the impossibly strong arms, and narrow hips below a toned, athletic torso. Lower still, his shaft was thick and firm with passion. It held her attention for a long pulsing moment of trancelike wonder.
He was like some kind of beautiful god standing before her, extraordinary and captivating in every way.
Reaching out again, she ran her fingertips across his chest and over one tight, hard nipple. His stomach muscles twitched and clenched, as if he were struggling to suppress his desires—at least for the time being—while she explored his body with her inquisitive hands.
Lower she went, down to his massive erection, taking him in her hands and stroking the smooth, hot skin…then lower still, where she cupped and stroked his heavy balls. His breathing quickened and she gloried in the obvious power she had over him.
“I want to kiss you everywhere, too,” she whispered after a time, bending to take the swollen head of his manhood into her mouth and lick it with her tongue.
She heard him suck in his breath and felt his hand at her cheek, gently touching her face with rough, callused fingertips.
“You’re killing me, lass,” he said in a low voice that goaded her on.
Too busy to reply, she continued to pleasure him until it seemed too much for him to take. Darach forcefully pulled her up by the shoulder, kissed her on the mouth, then came down on top of her on the bed with reckless resolve.
The weight of his naked body pressed hotly to hers made Larena feel positively feral. She wiggled her hips and tugged at her skirts to shove everything out of the way.
With trembling fingers, she unlaced the front of her bodice. Seconds later, it landed on the floor. Darach wrenched her skirts down over her hips and she pulled her chemise over her head. It all happened very quickly. Suddenly she was naked and sinfully aroused by the touch of the cool night air on her skin.
He came down upon her then, holding her close while he kissed her mouth and neck and shoulders and drove her wild with yearning. His manhood rubbed and stroked against her and she softened for him, parted her legs wider, and welcomed him with her own primal thrusts and urges.
“You’re wet, lass,” he whispered in her ear. “Your body’s ready for me. Tell me you want me, because I want nothing more than to be inside you.”
“I want you. Please, Darach. Make love to me. I’m yours. I’ll do anything you want.”
He plunged into her a few rapid heartbeats later with a driving force that stopped her breath. He pushed deep, all the way to the hilt, arching his back and pressing his groin into hers. A searing pain overwhelmed her senses, but with an astounding level of desire, she wanted more of it. She squeezed at his firm, muscular buttocks, pulling him even deeper into her body.
When he pushed in as far as he could go, they both lay still, pausing, as if to comprehend the situation and find their bearings. Larena said nothing. She merely squeezed her eyes shut and felt a tear spill across her cheek, for the pain was intense.
“I know it hurts,” he whispered.
But she wasn’t sorry, for she didn’t care about that. All that matte
red was that she’d given herself to him completely, body and soul—forever—and she’d never felt more loved and protected.
Her thoughts and hopes flitted to possible ways for them to be together, while she squeezed her arms tightly about his shoulders and buried her face in the warmth of his neck.
After giving her a moment to become accustomed to his size, Darach slowly began to move, gently at first, gliding in and out of her on a slick, sultry wave of eroticism. Her body seemed to melt around him as he drove in deep, all the way to the entrance of her womb and back again.
She wanted to cry out, but was afraid he might stop when she didn’t want him to. This was all so overpowering, so achingly beautiful.
Before long, orgasmic sensation rushed to all her nerve endings and she felt as if she were drowning in waves of rapture. Her body quaked and shuddered—for the second time that night. She dug her nails into Darach’s back as a fierce climax trembled through her body, then she went weak with gratification, her body drained of energy and the ability to think or entertain any form of logic.
She opened her eyes to look up at Darach, who continued to work in and out of her in a loving embrace.
He smiled at her then and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. It filled her with such joy, she could have wept.
She reached up and held his face between her palms. For a long moment she watched him—so magnificent in the flickering candlelight—until he squeezed his eyes shut and his slick, muscled body bucked like an animal. His erection convulsed and throbbed within her. Then he threw his head back and she felt the hot gush of his seed shoot into her and drench her in his passion.
“Ah, my sweet lassie,” he whispered tenderly as he collapsed his full weight upon her and held her close. She felt as if she were floating in a dream.
* * *
Darach had bedded many women in his life, and he’d always enjoyed their pleasures as much as his own, but he’d never wanted a woman as badly as he’d wanted Larena that night. It was a need that went beyond mere physical desire. Making love to her had become a matter of supreme importance, not just to slake his lust, but to claim her as his own and ensure that she belonged to him and no other.
Now, as he lay with her on the soft bed, their hot sticky bodies entwined in a hazy erotic stupor, he had no regrets about taking her virginity. If anything, he was grateful that she’d been brought into his life at a time when Darach was beginning to think there would never be anything left in the world to stir his soul. Nothing to live for outside of endless, recurring scouting missions around the Kinloch perimeter and the continued struggle to bury a shameful secret that would plague him until his dying day.
Until now, no one other than his brother had known the truth and he’d wanted it that way. He’d always believed it was safest, but confessing the truth to Larena had been a release of some sort.
Everything about her felt like home—though it had nothing to do with the stones in these castle walls or the people of the Campbell clan he’d left behind. It was just her alone, and the effect she had on his tainted soul. She had learned the truth about his past and had accepted him apart from it.
Darach wasn’t certain what would happen after this—where they would go, how they would live—but he knew it was right and proper, and that he had been meant to find this woman and rescue her that day in the forest. As she had rescued him.
That morning, he had dreamed he was a hawk, flying home to Leathan, and here he was, feeling a connection to another living person that he’d never felt before—not even with his brother. He couldn’t explain it. He only knew that it was as real as the scarred flesh on his bones.
He lifted his head to look down at Larena, wondering if she might have fallen asleep, praying he hadn’t crushed her with his weight when he’d relaxed on her just then.
Her eyes were closed, but she opened them and smiled up at him sleepily. She was so lovely in the candlelight, he couldn’t bear it. It hurt just to look at her.
“I’m still inside you,” he whispered, “and I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“It feels nice,” she replied.
“You must be a bit sore?” he asked.
“Aye, but it’s oddly exciting.”
Chuckling softly and feeling a renewal of his lusty appetites, he laid soft kisses on her cheeks, her nose, and eyelids. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he whispered. “I’m beginning to wonder if I died and went to heaven. Maybe you did kill me with that rock when you tried to bash my head in.”
A loud, purposeful knock rapped at the door just then, and Larena’s body went rigid beneath him.
“Miss Campbell?” Lieutenant Roberts shouted from the corridor. “It’s nearly ten and the colonel is growing a bit concerned. Are you all right in there?”
Darach raised a finger to his lips and calmly whispered, “Tell him you fell asleep.”
“I fell asleep,” she quickly answered, turning her head toward the door with a look of panic.
Roberts paused. “What should I tell the colonel? Will you still be joining him for dinner?”
Darach looked down at Larena, waiting to hear what she might say.
He was not at all pleased when she pushed at his chest, rolled him off her and quickly scrambled off the bed to her feet.
“I’ll be right there!” she called out to the guard. “I just need a moment to freshen up.”
Darach sat up and frowned. “Freshen up? You’re going? After what we just did, you’re still going to meet him?”
She grabbed her chemise and gown from the floor and hastened toward the dressing room. “I have to, or my father will die.”
Darach listened to the sound of rustling fabrics and water splashing while she remained out of sight.
Eventually, he rose from the bed, picked his shirt up off the floor and pulled it on. He donned his kilt next, buckled his belt, and was sitting on the chair, pulling on his boots, when Larena finally emerged wearing a different colored gown.
She smelled of rosewater—an attempt to mask the fragrance of their lovemaking no doubt. He felt a severe jolt of irritation.
“I thought you’d changed your mind about Chatham,” Darach said in a low voice. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have….”
He stopped himself, however, because his next few words would have been a lie. He couldn’t have resisted making love to Larena, no matter the circumstances. Not when she’d been so willing and open to him.
She shook her head with frantic eyes. “What have we done, Darach?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t simply run away with you and leave my father behind. I can’t break my word to Rutherford.”
“But what we just did….” He pointed toward the bed.
“I know.” She covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I wanted you so badly. You made me forget.”
“Forget about what?”
She lowered her hands and met his eyes again. “Everything. Oh God, I must have been out of my mind.”
His body stiffened at the insult. “Aye, you must have been, lass. I think you’re out of your mind now, too, for you cannot go to Chatham or any other man. You belong to me now.”
“I belong to no one,” she insisted with a dark and willful glare. “At least, not yet.”
“Then what did we do just now?” he asked, feeling confused and infuriated. “What was all that if you intended to marry another? Why did you say the things you did? Touch me the way you did?”
“It was….” Appearing lost for words, she dropped her gaze to the floor.
Darach waited impatiently for her to answer the question.
At long last, her eyes lifted. She strode closer and laid her palm on his cheek. “It was lovely, Darach, and I’ll never forget it, or you, but now you have to go. If Chatham finds out—”
“I don’t care what he knows,” Darach barked as his ire escalated and he had to fight the urge to storm out of there a
nd settle things with Chatham himself.
“Please,” she begged, backing away slightly, “don’t do anything that will spoil what I was able to achieve for my clan. I must keep my word to Rutherford.”
“What about your word to me?” he asked, grabbing hold of her arm. “You made promises just now—with your body and with your heart. Don’t deny it, lass. You care for me. Tell the truth.”
She tried to shake him away. “I do care for you, but I never promised you anything. I couldn’t, for I’m already betrothed to Chatham. I’m his.”
God’s blood, she might as well have pierced his heart with ten blades.
With sickening anguish, Darach let go of her and stepped back. “If that’s what you want, I’ll go.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Please Darach. This isn’t what I want. You have to believe that.”
“I don’t need to hear your apologies. You’ve already said more than enough.”
A mix of agony and antagonism sizzled in the air between them until she pointed at the bed and spoke ruefully.
“It kills me to ask this, but could you hide back under there, so that I can open the door?”
His eyes narrowed with bitter, pungent loathing. “I’ll not crawl under your bed and hide like a frightened mouse.”
“You did it before.”
“That was different.”
She waited for him to at least move behind the door where he would not be seen, then she opened it. Light from the torches in the corridor illuminated her face. She smiled brightly at the guard outside and said, “I am ready now.” Then she walked out and shut the door behind her.
With his blood burning hot as it pulsed through his veins, Darach waited a few seconds until the sound of footsteps disappeared down the tower steps. Then he turned, squeezed his eyes shut and tapped his forehead against the wall a few times, praying for self-restraint.
Return of the Highlander Page 14