by Madelyn Hill
Galen whispered in her ear as he brushed his face against her neck. “My dove. I don’t deserve you.”
She pulled back, hating to break their connection. Wrapping her hands around his face, she said, “You deserve to have a life and love. Stop thinking of the past, Galen. Go toward the future.”
Galen ripped his gaze from her. Her eyes were so beguiling, filled with concern. He wanted to ravage her berry-ripe lips, drink from her goodness, allow it to saturate him.
He refused to destroy her with the evil legacy of Lomarcan, of the Maclean family.
He released her and held his arms tightly to his sides lest they find their way back to her. “Madge will reappear.”
He wanted to soothe the confusion wrinkling her brow, but he stubbornly remained unyielding. “There is no future that ‘tisn’t tainted by my past.”
“Galen—”
He raised his hand to cut her off. “I have nothing to give you, Vivian.”
Tears rimmed her lashes, ripping his heart to shreds. One plummeted and slowly left its trail along her cheek. “Go,” he said hoarsely. “Don’t enter this room again.”
With a rustle of skirts, she was gone.
It was what he wanted, no needed, but he felt like hell on a good day for sending her away.
He fleetingly thought of his mother.
Galen only hoped he wouldn’t end up like her, plummeting to his death into the unforgiving sea.
No, Galen prayed that his life would continue with the memories of Vivian brightening his thoughts.
She ran blindly through the halls, groping at the walls to direct her, stumbling on rugs, a stray chair, and table.
Her chest heaved with exertion, embarrassment, and shame. How many times had she opened up to him only to have him cut her off without emotion? She was tired of constantly being pulled from one direction to another.
She collapsed on a bench with torn and ragged velvet cushions. She caught her breath as she leaned against the wall. Despite Nessa, Bernard, and Alice, loneliness consumed her. How she longed to be free of Mac Tìre and the wolfish Laird Maclean.
Thoughts of the impish Alex reminded her there were those who needed her. Vivian looked around the dim hallway, reluctant to admit she had reason to stay. At that moment she despised Wolf’s Castle for all it held and how it had ensnared her in its sticky web. No, no that wasn’t the truth of it, she thought as she regretted her anger.
She leapt from the small bench and raced toward her chamber. There she’d conceal herself to search out her true feelings.
Blessedly, no one crossed her path on the way; most likely they were still looking for Madge and Alex. Vivian threw a brick of peat and some brambles into the slumbering fire and poked at it until a flame flickered. She exchanged her clothing for her nightgown, then crumpled onto her knees, weakened by the wretched emotions swirling about her.
She wiped tears from her cheek with the back of her hand, but they flowed stubbornly. The fire warmed her as she sat before it, but remorse and sadness lay heavy on her heart.
She turned her head toward the light rapping on the door. “Come in,” she said after she dried her face.
Alice peeked into the room. “We’ve had no luck, at all, at all.”
Vivian sighed. She lifted from her tucked position on the floor. “Galen seems to be of the mind that she’ll return.”
Alice nodded. “She’s done it before, she has.”
With a slight shrug, Vivian fingered the edge of the mahogany mantel. “But what of the babe?”
Alice strode forward and patted her shoulder. “Madge is a good mam, she is. There’s no need to worry.”
She nodded. “How can there be so many hidden rooms in this castle?”
The maidservant chuckled, but Vivian found little to feel humorous about. Resentment began to well up from the pit of her stomach.
“Have you spoken to m’laird?” Alice asked.
Vivian’s anger erupted. “Aye. Why is he so cold?”
Sharpness heightened Alice’s gaze. Nonetheless, she smiled and sat on the edge of the nearest chair. She straightened her apron over her wool skirt. “’Tis complicated.” Her lips puckered and she looked as if she were contemplating what she was willing to reveal. Alice’s hesitation made Vivian even more nervous.
“I went to the east wing,” Vivian offered. “I found Lady Maclean’s chamber.”
“Ah,” the maid said as a serene expression remained on her face.
Vivian knelt before her. “Tell me, Alice, why would a woman who despised her child keep reminders of him on her dressing table?” She held her breath as she waited for the maid to answer.
Alice tipped her head to the side, opened her mouth, then closed it again. Finally, she said, “I canna be telling ye, lass.”
Somehow, she kenned the maid would keep the secrets of Lomarcan in her heart. Just as she felt Galen had no inkling of his mother’s affection, that she’d kept tokens of his childhood. Would it change him, she wondered? Would Galen’s heart thaw knowing his mother held a tender for him, but something or someone kept her from him?
Vivian sat next to Alice, grabbed her hands, and gave a squeeze. “Please, Alice. Give me some idea of why Galen is caring and sweet one moment and then fierce and unyielding the next.”
The older woman’s shoulders sank, low and defeated. “He’s a good lad, he is. I tried so hard.” Vivian cringed at the raw emotional edge of Alice’s voice.
“Please, Alice. I need to know so I can understand him.”
The older woman looked at her for several minutes as if warring with herself about how much she should reveal. She scowled, then sighed. “She loved him. Loved him with all of her being. But her husband threatened Galen’s life if she got near the lad.”
Vivian gasped. “Why?”
Alice glanced around the room, her eyes skittering back and forth as if she were looking for a quick escape. “I’ve said too much. I must tell the rest to m’laird, not you.”
Vivian waved away her concern. “He’ll never know.” Desperation drove her to be persistent in order to know the man who invaded her dreams, thoughts, and heart.
The maid shook her head. “The key is in the passages, lass.”
Alice pushed up from the chair and hastened out of the room. Vivian started to call after her but stopped. In her mind’s eye, she saw Lady Maclean’s trinket box plastered with dust and filled with tokens of Galen’s youth.
But, what was this talk of passages?
Her head pounded even as she thought about all of the mysteries of the castle. She was so uncertain. Vivian thought over what Alice had said about Galen’s mother.
Peculiar how life was. She had a mother who left of her own free will. And Galen’s stayed away to protect him. She rubbed her eyes, trying to refocus on the matter at hand.
She so wanted a happy Christmas, but now her reasons were gone, unless they found Madge in time. Unfortunately, time was in short supply.
She remembered the thick candles she and Nessa had dipped themselves, now flickering in the window. They had begun preparing forfar birdies, the meat pastry flaky and delicious, haggis, Scotch pies, and tipsy trifle to eat before the fire. A feast they would have. If only. . .
For the sake of her father and wee Alex, they must celebrate Christmas.
Vivian wanted to prove to Galen he was worthy of love. She’d seen his moments of softness. The way he deferred to Alice. The care and sorrow he’d displayed with Liam. Even his interest in Alex. She chuckled when she recalled how he held the bairn, nervous and apprehensive, but kindly.
His heart may be numb from years of coldness, but it was surely thawing. His kisses, the look of desire—the one that created a longing to be secured in his arms—weren’t those of an indifferent, heartless man.
Determined, she tucked her robe tightly around her and released her hair from its bindings so it flowed down her back.
She was off to see the man who held all the answers and she was determi
ned to pull them from him any way possible.
‘Twould be strange, not her usual demeanor. But she kenned no other option. She moved to leave her chamber, then sat on the chair, nerves fumbling her actions as she smoothed her robe. Standing, she inhaled, straightened her spine, and left the room. She quickly wondered if he would laugh at her attempts. No matter, she had to be drastic. She had to make him see. Had to make Galen realize he was worthy and she loved him.
Seduction should work.
Chapter 26
Vivian breached Galen’s private study. Its bright contrast to the rest of the castle still struck her.
A low fire crackled in the fireplace, emitting the earthy smell of peat. Dim candlelight cast shadows against the walls, allowing Vivian to see him seated in a wing chair before the broad windows. He seemed oblivious to her as she removed her robe, approached, and touched his shoulder. Galen turned toward her, vulnerability stark in the planes of his handsome face. She smoothed the wrinkle of concern from his brow with a trembling finger. He sighed and circled an arm around her waist. Vivian collapsed onto his lap and curled into the comfort of his brawn, all questions fleeing her mind.
His gaze, probing and questioning, set her insides afire. Capturing her mouth, he ravished her lips as if they were his last meal. Feasting, devouring.
Blatant arousal was evident to her, urging her to press against the hard length of him. He pulled back with the look of a man on the brink of madness. Vivian sensed him warring with himself, the taut strain of his muscles, the concern clutching his jaw. She cupped his face with her hand and brought him closer. With a growl, he took her mouth once again.
The chair proved cumbersome. Galen rose and carried her to the hearth. Gently, he kneeled and placed her on the rug, warm and welcoming by the fire. He stared at her, jaw tense. Silently, he slid her nightgown from her shoulder. His light touch excited her, sent emotions surging through her. Trailing tender kisses along her skin, he unleashed a torrent of searing tremors in her body.
He smelled heavenly, exhilarating. A groan escaped her as he captured her linen clad nipple between his teeth, raking them back and forth with torturous tenderness. He grinned against her dampened skin and she smiled in return. Liquid heat flooded her, creating an ache deep inside.
Galen continued to ease her nightgown from her, exposing her breast to the cool air and his touch. A deep, contented rumble came from deep within his chest as he removed his shirt and lay beside her. Turning toward him, Vivian fingered the curly hair spread over his broad chest. It tickled her palm and released a masculine musk she inhaled greedily. Galen tipped her chin and closed in for a deep kiss.
She felt as if her nerves were aching to jump from beneath her skin. Pulsing, demanding more. Galen pulled her to him, cupping her bottom with a firm hand. She threw her arms around his neck and nestled into the soft, welcoming apex at the base of his throat. Surprising herself, she began nipping the tanned skin leading down to his chest, covering the expanse to the low vee of hair above the waist of his kilt. The mystery of true lovemaking evaporated as instinct drove her.
Galen rolled away from her, leapt up from the rug, and began pacing. He stopped and dragged his fingers through his hair. When his gaze sought hers, she saw hot desire in his clear blue eyes, bright and alive like she’d never seen them.
She rose to meet him. Without a word, Vivian placed a hand on his shoulder and pressured him to lie next to her. He took her hand and kissed a trail along her palm, her wrist, and then her forearm.
Galen didn’t know how long he’d be able to rein in his desire. She was so lovely, so innocent. With her nightgown now piled on the rug, her innate beauty surrounded her like a halo. The firelight gave highlights to her curling mane of hair and a sheen of rose to her skin. His gaze absorbed her from the beguiling look in her eyes, to her breasts, full and proud. Her waist was impossibly small and he kenned he could span it with his hands. And her womanly hips, full and curved, framed the apex of her thighs where her womanhood lay just beyond his reach. He kenned if he didn’t have a taste of her, he’d die of wanting.
He pulled her closer, inhaling the fresh scent of her hair. “Vivian, my dove,” he whispered reverently.
Her touch nearly sent him into oblivion as she tried to unwrap his kilt and edged it over his hips. Her fingers brushed his manhood, now pulsing with need.
“Vivian,” he growled in warning. He’d have to go slowly; he just hoped he could.
She chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh that surprised him. Surely she understood the magnitude of their coupling.
As she was giving him life, he was destroying hers.
Jerking away, Galen caught his breath and regained control. “No one will have you if we continue.”
She smiled, a womanly tilt of her lips. “You will have me. That is all I want.”
His mind told him to run, hide, lock himself away so he’d never again set eyes on her spectacular beauty. But his icy heart melted at the intensity of her gaze. A gaze filled with the longing so strong it took his breath away.
In an instant, he pushed his kilt completely off and rolled over her. She moaned at his touch.
And touch her he did.
He feasted on her breasts, one after the other, suckling, caressing, cupping their firm weight in his palm. He eased between her lean legs, nestling himself at the summit of her thighs, eager to plunge into her scorching heat.
Uncertain, he hesitated.
But Vivian grasped his hips, pulled him into her. He thrust as gently as possible. She was so soft, so giving as she matched his movements with her own.
Her violet eyes glazed over with passion. He cradled her to him, moving deeper inside her. She writhed beneath him, moaning, calling out his name. The sweat of their bodies and scent of lovemaking mingled to fill the air. Enticing. Exhilarating.
“Aye, Vivian,” he moaned as she wrapped her legs around him. He shifted her hips so he could bury himself deeply. She stilled for a moment. “Did I hurt you?” he asked with concern.
She shook her head; a soft smile curved her lips. He leaned down and kissed her, taking her mouth with his, easing his tongue between her lips. As they suckled each other, he slowly began to move, rocking together as pleasure filled him.
Vivian raked her fingers through his hair, tangling them as she murmured to him. “Oh, Galen,” she said with a little moue. He wanted to be closer to her, deeper inside her. She kneaded his shoulders, tickled his back as she reached his hips and gripped them.
“My dove,” he whispered as he kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose.
She smiled and opened her eyes to watch him. Deep passion turned her violet eyes to a deep thundering storm. “My laird,” she returned.
“You are perfection, m’lady.”
Vivian’s gaze softened as she cupped his cheek. “Together we are perfection.” Her fingers trailed along his jaw, the outline of his mouth. He sucked on her fingers and her eyes nearly closed as she lifted her hips higher and sighed.
He’d never felt so complete—so whole. She tightened around him as tremors skittered through her.
It was his undoing.
He reared back and buried himself within her as his seed burst forward. Vivian arched, cleaving to him as her climax rode over them both.
“Galen,” she cried out.
Galen watched as awe filled her face and a tear trickled down her flushed cheek.
As much as it pained him to leave her, he withdrew and grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair. Cradling her against him, he covered them as they lay sated in the afterglow of their passion.
For a few precious moments, his world was right.
Chapter 27
Rattling windows woke her. Vivian moved back to snuggle next to Galen. He wasn’t there. Sitting up, Vivian searched the study, but it proved empty.
She furrowed her brow. Where was he? She reached for her nightgown, now a wrinkled heap on the floor.
With haste, she dressed, stretching her taut m
uscles and longing for a bath. She kept shoving the thought of Galen’s absence from her mind, allowing it to lie just beneath the surface. Otherwise she’d cry.
“I thought you’d still be asleep.”
She sighed with relief and turned to face him. “You weren’t here.”
He closed the door and set down the tray of tea and biscuits. His eyes avoided hers. She missed the blue warmth they held the night before. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded. “Galen, what’s wrong?”
Shrugging, he poured her a cup of tea. “Sit.”
So we are back to demands, she thought. Complying, she sat and accepted the china cup from him. The tea seemed to ease a fraction of her nerves.
He ran his fingers through his hair as he paced in front of the broad windows. Twice he began to speak but failed to form a sentence.
She rose and placed her hand on his arm. “Tell me.”
The intensity of his gaze frightened her. It was as if he were starved for her and loathed her all at once. She regretted asking him to speak.
“Tell me of your past. Of your betrothed?”
Vivian stepped back. He reached for her, then placed his arms firmly at his sides.
“My past is my own concern, m’laird,” she said defensively. How could he ask such a question? Would a young woman ever share such details?
“Nay,” he said through clenched teeth. At first he hadn’t realized, but then as he reviewed their coupling, he realized she wasn’t innocent, at least not in the physical matters between a man and woman. It riled him that another man had touched her, made him mad with red surging anger. “If you are engaged, then you need to return to the mainland before all of your chances of an honorable marriage are gone.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We must not be together again, to be sure.”