The Campbell Trilogy

by Monica McCarty

  “None of those things matter.”

  He looked at her as if she were a fool. “Only someone who has never known otherwise would think that.”

  Her cheeks burned. “All I meant was that I have those things already. I do not need to marry Robert to get them.”

  He stiffened, and she feared she’d pricked his pride again. No man wanted to have his wife provide for him. How could she explain that without him by her side nothing else mattered? He started to turn away from her, and her heart dropped.

  I’m losing him.

  She clasped his arm again. “Please.” His eyes met hers. She opened her mouth, but no sound would come out. She had to tell him how she felt, but the idea of leaving herself so exposed, so vulnerable, terrified her. A cold sweat dotted her skin. Fear churned in her stomach, and for a moment she thought she might be ill.

  She was a coward. But if she didn’t take a chance, she would never know, and that would be infinitely worse. “I can’t marry Robert Campbell.”

  “Why?”

  She wanted to close her eyes and hide, but she forced herself to say, “I don’t love him.” She heard his sharp intake of breath, and his gaze intensified. “I …” She took a deep breath and let it out in one fell swoop: “I love you.”

  The silence that followed was as loud as thunder and as painful as a thousand bolts of lightning striking her heart. She stared at him, willing him to say something—anything. But he stood motionless, as if turned to stone, and didn’t say a word. Not one word.

  Her heart started to thump and her breath quickened as horror slowly drained over her—as thick and heavy as the mud that she’d slipped in that hideous day.

  I was wrong.

  She looked away, wishing she were anywhere but here. In this warm, dark room, inches away from the man she loved who didn’t want her.

  “Lizzie …”

  She tried to breathe through the knife plunged deep in her chest. “You don’t need to say anything. I”—she choked—“just … thought. It seemed”—tears burned in her throat—“I thought you wanted me.” God, it hurt. The pressure in her chest was unbearable. She couldn’t breathe. Her voice came out in a ragged whisper. “Obviously I made a mistake.”

  He swore and grabbed her arm, pulling her against him in one harsh movement. More furious than she’d ever seen him. “You didn’t make a mistake. God, can’t you feel how much I want you?”

  Shocked by the violence of emotion she’d unknowingly unleashed, she nodded and was suddenly very conscious of the hard column of steel thrust against her stomach. He did want her. And if the size of him was any indication, badly. But was it more than lust? She gazed up at him through blurry eyes. “Then why are you doing this?”

  “For your own good. You’ll be better off with Campbell.”

  Her heart soared. He wasn’t rejecting her, he was only trying to do what he thought was best for her. Honorable to the core. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, savoring the rasp of dark stubble on her palm. “Shouldn’t I be the judge of that? Am I to have no voice in deciding my own future?”

  “Elizabeth …” His voice sounded tortured.

  “Do you still want to marry me?”

  His smoldering green gaze burned deep into her soul. “More than anything in this world.”

  In his eyes, she saw the truth. He cares for me. A wide smile broke through her shimmery tears. “Then it’s decided.”

  His gaze fell to her mouth, and she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he dropped his hold and took a step back. “I can’t do this,” he said quietly. “It’s wrong.”

  She saw the steely determination in his eyes and knew that his mind was made up. A low rumble started from somewhere deep inside her and built until her entire body seemed to shake with it.

  Just when she’d given up hope, she’d found the man she’d always dreamed of, a man who wanted her for herself. She’d be damned(!) if she would let him walk away out of some overprotective male sense of honor.

  Lizzie had always been the quiet one. The serious, bid dable girl who did what was expected. Well, she was tired of hiding in the shadows and letting life pass her by. Not this time. This time she was going to reach out and take what she wanted, to Hades (the blasphemies were really flowing now!) with the consequences.

  She met steel with steel, her gaze every bit as fierce and determined as his. “I’m afraid I don’t agree.”

  She felt a supreme moment of satisfaction at the slight wariness that appeared in his gaze—wariness that turned to full-blown alarm after she stormed back over to the door, lowered the bar, and turned around to face him.

  There was only one way to bend steel, and that was with fire … lots and lots of fire.

  “What are you doing?”

  She arched a brow. “I would think that is fairly obvious to a man of your perception.” She moved back toward him. “We appear to have a difference of opinion, and I think it is better that we are not disturbed while we sort it out.”

  She pulled off the thin beaded shawl she’d draped around her shoulders and dropped it on the pallet where he’d stacked his belongings. It seemed to land with the resounding thud of a gauntlet. To the winner went the spoils. And this was not a battle she intended to lose.

  His hot gaze washed over her, soaking up every inch of bare skin—especially the bare skin around her breasts. Her nipples tightened under his scrutiny. His eyes flared. The pulse at his neck twitched dangerously.

  This dress really was shameless. But from the way his eyes gorged hungrily on the round swells of flesh and the deep cleft in between, she had to admit that perhaps Alys was right. Lizzie would never be a raving beauty like her cousin Flora, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t emphasize her attributes.

  “And how do you propose we sort this out?” His voice was wonderfully hoarse.

  She smiled, a devilish glint in her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure we can figure something out.” Her gaze dropped to the hefty bulge in his pants.

  Dear God.

  Her mouth suddenly went dry. Her bravado faltered. She wasn’t nearly as confident as she pretended.

  Unconsciously, she licked her bottom lip. If possible, the prodigious bulge seemed to grow a little bigger. He appeared to be in a great deal of pain, but Elizabeth was discovering that she had a rather ruthless streak when it came to this man.

  She approached him slowly, enjoying the way his body tensed as she drew near, his intense, predatory gaze following her every move. She felt a rush of heat. For the first time in her life, she felt the power of being a desirable woman. It gave her just enough courage to go on.

  She slid against him, molding her body to his. The sizzle of contact startled them both. She loved the hard press of his body against hers, feeling every bulge, every cord of hard muscle. Her body flushed with heat, concentrating in tingling awareness where they touched.

  He made a choking noise in the back of his throat—half groan, half pain. “You don’t know what you are doing.”

  His voice was tight—very tight. She could feel the pressure reverberating inside him. The powerful muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed.

  She tilted her chin. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  His eyes bored into hers, hot and full of passion. “There will be no going back. Once I make you mine, I will never let you go.”

  Her heart clenched at the possessive tone in his voice.

  She slid her hands around his neck and rose to her tiptoes—he really was frightfully tall—her body stretched against him. The evidence of their desire rose between them. It was impossible to deny in the hard peak of her nipples driving into his chest and the rigid length of his erection held taut against her stomach. And the heat. So much heat. It seemed to meld them together.

  “Good,” she said. “I don’t want to go back. I only want you.” She pressed tiny kisses along his jaw, savoring the hint of salt on his skin and the scratch of his jaw against her lips. She wanted to inhale him. Devour
him. Lick every inch of his incredible body.

  His heart pounded furiously against hers, and she knew he was holding himself on a very tight rein.

  She trailed soft kisses along his jaw until she came to the sensitive place below his ear, and then she drew little circles with her tongue.

  He started to shake but still would not touch her. His will was formidable, but so was hers—and she’d finally found a weakness in the steely armor of this fierce warrior. She had no intention of relenting now.

  She rubbed against him a little more, raking her nipples against his chest, the friction sending delicious little fissures of pleasure down her belly, concentrating between her legs. She closed her eyes, wallowing in the sudden rush of heat and dampness, feeling the insistent clench of desire.

  His powerful erection pressed intimately against her, teasing her with possibility. Her mouth was right on his ear, and she spoke her wicked thoughts aloud. “I want you inside me.”

  That was it. With a violent growl, he snapped. “Damn you, Elizabeth.”

  His mouth fell on hers in a ravaging kiss. A kiss that reached down to her soul, claiming her completely. Not wasting any time, he scooped her up and carried her toward an empty pallet.

  Chapter 14

  His body was on fire. Patrick had never been more aroused in his life. His shy, sweet little Lizzie had turned into a bold seductress. She could bring him to his knees like this. Hell, she already had.

  All his honorable intentions were forgotten in the space of one long heartbeat.

  I want you inside me.

  He’d almost come right then, his body already pushed to the edge by the seductive press of her sweet little body against his. His ironclad control shattered into fragments. All he could think about was tossing her down, twining her legs around him, and thrusting up high inside her until the demons roaring in his head quieted. Until these powerful, terrifying emotions unleashed by her tender declaration let him go. Until the burning in his chest stopped.

  She loves me. God. He didn’t want her love. It was too great a responsibility. He would only hurt her. But for one reckless moment he’d been moved beyond words, humbled by her gift. Almost … happy.

  His kiss was brutal, punishing, for making him feel like this. He was desperate. Out of control. Never had he experienced this kind of irrational urgency. He needed her. Like a starving man needed food. Like a dying man needed salvation. Now. Before everything went to hell. Before she could change her mind.

  Though she seemed in no danger of that. She met him full force, plying his carnal strokes with thrusts and parries of her own. The sensation of her sweet, silky tongue sliding against his, delving in his mouth with eager abandon, drove him wild.

  He drank her in. Her heat. Her sweetness. God, he couldn’t get enough of her. His tongue circled hers, twining and probing in an anxious rhythm that echoed the pulsing of his erection as he carried her toward the bed.

  Her soft little sounds of pleasure were only increasing his agony. Her bottom nudged the heavy head of his cock as he held her, and he thought he was going to explode. The temptation to wrap her legs around his waist and plunge into her heat was almost overwhelming. It would be so easy to lift her skirts and smooth his hand over the velvet softness of her naked bottom, lifting her over him as the weight of her body took him deeper and deeper.

  Oh, God. The heavy tug in his groin was unbearable.

  What the hell was the matter with him? He was acting like a damn barbarian.

  He was a damn barbarian. He wanted to take her over and over. Make her come until she could think of no one else but him. Until he proved that she truly belonged to him.

  He broke the kiss long enough to lower her to the pallet, forcing himself to slow, to tame the beast raging inside him. Cursing the absence of his plaid, he divested himself of his jerkin, shirt, and boots and lay down next to her.

  The soft press of her body stretched out against his was too much. He wanted to sink into her, to feel all that softness envelop him in its healing embrace. Unable to keep his hands off her for a second longer, he slid his palms down her waist and over her hips, molding every sweet curve through the thin gauzy fabric.

  He felt like a bairn with a roomful of sweets. He didn’t know where to start, but he was going to eat every sugary piece. Would she melt in his mouth? Dissolve into a warm puddle of syrup?

  He scooped up her breasts in his hands. The soft round flesh spilled over his fingers, more lush than he ever could have imagined—and he’d done plenty of that late at night when the discomfort in his loins became unbearable.

  Did she touch herself and think of him? He clenched his jaw to fight the surge at the thought of her pale soft hands pleasuring herself while he watched.

  Barbarian.

  His mouth slid over her jaw and down her throat, her skin as smooth and sweet as cream. “God, you taste incredible,” he murmured, his tongue sliding a teasing path along the edge of her bodice. “I want to lick every inch of you.” He lifted her breasts to his face and nuzzled her lightly, inhaling the warm feminine scent in the deep cleft. His thumb grazed the turgid peak through the silky cloth. “Your tight little nipples.” He looked into her eyes intently. “The soft skin above your thighs.”

  Her eyes lit with surprise and then with something far more dangerous … curiosity. This woman could unman him.

  She squirmed a little in his arms, her impatience fueling his hunger.

  His fingers worked the ties of her gown, loosening it enough to ease it down past her shoulders and lift her breasts over the tight confines of her stays, at last revealing her bare chest to his greedy gaze.

  He sucked in his breath, letting it out in short, ragged gasps. He loved breasts—big, small, and everything in between—but Elizabeth’s were nothing short of spectacular. Mind-blowing. Bury-your-face-and-never-want-to-leave. Every man’s erotic fantasy. Lush and round, firm and high, topped by small nipples the same soft pink of her lips. “You’re beautiful,” he groaned.

  He almost didn’t want to touch her. The porcelain skin looked so delicate and unblemished—too fine for his big, rough hands. But he couldn’t resist. He cupped her, and the sensation of all that warm, silky skin under his callused palms forced another groan as he caressed the velvety softness with his hands and fingers.

  She didn’t break, she shuddered. Arching into his hand, into his mouth, threading her fingers through his hair insistently. He kissed her gently at first, brushing his lips over the smooth, creamy skin, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. He flicked his tongue over her nipple, using the heat of his breath on her damp skin to increase her pleasure. She beaded and tightened, the petal-pink skin darkening to mouthwatering raspberry.

  He tamped down the reflexive surge. Hell, he could come just looking at her.

  He couldn’t wait any longer and took the pink pearl between his teeth and tongue. She moaned, a low, throaty sound that called to him in the most primitive way. God, she was ripe. Like a juicy peach that he couldn’t wait to bite into.

  He sucked her harder. Deeper. Circling her nipple with his tongue as his hand eased up the edge of her skirt.

  She was so incredibly responsive. His hand slid up the inside of her thigh. So incredibly soft. His finger swept her sex, and he jerked, his body weeping to feel the slick heat. So incredibly ready.

  He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and devour every inch of her. To press his lips and tongue against her until she shattered. But that would have to wait; they had a lifetime to explore their passion. Though she’d taken the precaution of barring the door, his men could return at any time or someone could come looking for her.

  He teased her with his fingers until her hips began to press against his hand. Until the tiny whimpers increased in urgency. Her hands were on his shoulders, on his arms. Sculpting his muscles, clutching him wildly, begging.

  She was going to come.

  Oh, yes. He swelled hard and hot.

  He circled her nip
ple with his tongue, and when he felt her start to break apart, he sucked her deep into his mouth and pressed his finger against her sensitive spot. She cried out, arching her back against his mouth as her body clenched around his finger with a wave of rippling contractions.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. She was so beautiful like this, it made his chest ache. Head tossed back. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted. Her raw passion roused him to the breaking point.

  He couldn’t wait another minute. He needed to be inside her.

  He unfastened his breeches, and his cock sprang free. Big and hard and thick with blood. A pearly drop glistened on the tip.

  Her eyes widened.

  Before she could think about it, he moved over her, rubbing his sensitive head in her damp heat. The groan that went through him shook his entire body. He gritted his teeth against the urge to plunge deep inside. To relieve the unbearable pressure. She was so wet that it was killing him to go slow. He’d been waiting too long for this.

  “Please,” she whispered, looking into his eyes, as if reading his mind. “I need you now.”

  The heartfelt desire humbled him as nothing before. He could feel something grip him. An emotion so unfamiliar, he didn’t know what to call it. But he knew that the need he had for this woman had nothing to do with lust. She was hope to a dying man.

  He looped his arms under her legs and positioned himself at her entry. Slowly, he began to push inside.

  He groaned, the pleasure too intense. The tight clench of her body fisted around him like a velvet glove. “God, you feel incredible.” So amazingly tight. The urge to thrust, to sink into her full hilt, teased the edges of his consciousness.

  But he needed to have care for her innocence. Except that nothing about her responses to him felt innocent. Inexperienced, yes, but not innocent. No maidenly shock. No fear. No pain.

  She lifted her hips, urging him deeper, and his entire body clenched with restraint. He was too big and she was too small. But nothing in her expression suggested that he was hurting her. Her eyes were half-lidded, hazy with passion.