The Campbell Trilogy

by Monica McCarty

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Her eyes flickered open, meeting his gaze. He detected a flash of anxiety before she shook her head. “You won’t hurt me, Patrick.”

  There was something in her voice … He eased into her inch by inch, until he reached the point of no return. Holding her gaze, he thrust, and her body welcomed him without resistance.

  Her cry was one of satisfaction, not of pain.

  He paused, feeling a moment of surprise, but when she circled her hips he was sucked into a vortex of pleasure so intense that nothing else mattered.

  Lizzie was weak with pleasure, her body tingling from the force of the release that he’d teased from her with his skilled fingers—and his mouth. She’d never realized her breasts were so sensitive, but when he’d clasped his lips around her nipple, shards of white hot pleasure had shot through her in a hail of flickering light.

  But it was nothing to the sensation of him pushing inside her.

  She had to admit that she’d experienced a fleeting moment of doubt when he’d opened his breeches. He was a big man. Thick and long, the heavy round head stood a few inches past his belly button. He was at least twice as big as John—and that had hurt initially.

  John. She should tell him.…

  But the moment she felt him rub against her sensitive flesh, all other thoughts were gone. She wanted to take him into her body. To love him. To give him pleasure and find it in return.

  Her body dampened, beckoning him in the most intimate way. The concentration of sensation started all over again as his plump head caressed her, teased her, roused her passion to a frenzied storm.

  Until her body was wet and hot with need.

  And when she didn’t think she could take another minute of his exquisite torture, he entered her, penetrating inch by incredible inch. Stretching her. Filling her.

  And with one last plunge, completing her.

  Her body sighed, taking him in as if she’d been waiting for this her whole life.

  Perhaps she had.

  God, she could feel him. Her body tingled around the rock-hard column that pulsed with life inside her. She was a puddle of sensation, ready to be swept away in a maelstrom of passion and desire.

  Then suddenly he stopped.

  He knew.

  It had always been her intention to tell him, but there hadn’t been time. A flash of panic penetrated the haze. What if he didn’t want her? Their eyes met, and she saw the flicker of surprise. The silent question. But not blame. Not anger.

  Relief crashed over her in a warm, shimmering wave of acceptance. The last barrier between them was gone, and Lizzie gave herself over to the power of their lovemaking.

  She circled her hips and he started to pump. Slowly at first. Long, languid strokes, sliding in and out with deliberate purpose. Her body clutching around him the entire way—trying to hold on.

  He kissed her again. Her mouth. Her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, dragging it between his teeth. She moaned at the sensation of his silky lips closing over her. Laving her with the heat of his mouth and tongue as his arousal stirred her to a wicked frenzy. To a peak such as she’d never known.

  She clutched him as if she would never let go, running her hands over his heated skin, over the slabs of tightly defined muscles in his arms and chest, feeling them taut and straining under her fingertips, loving the feel of his hard, powerful body on top of her … inside her.

  Propped up over her, he was magnificent, his shoulders impossibly wide and powerful. Tight bands of muscle lined his stomach with every thrust. Just looking at him made her feel weak all over. His dark, silky hair slid forward across his handsome face, tight with the effort to control.

  But she didn’t want control. She wanted to see the depths of his need for her, the depths of his very soul. She wanted all of him.

  “Harder,” she urged him on. “Don’t hold back.”

  His eyes were dark with passion. “I can’t. I’ll hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” Her hands gripped his hard flanks and pulled him forcefully against her, lifting her hips to take him even deeper. “Please …”

  It was all the encouragement he needed. He let go, and she welcomed him with all the love and acceptance in her heart.

  He sank into her again, holding her gaze as he touched the deepest part of her. Again and again. Harder and faster.

  He was amazing. All his power, his fierceness, unleashed inside her.

  She clenched him tighter with her body, dragging each stroke from him. Until the violent crescendo reached its highest peak. Until all the love she felt for this amazing man converged into one perfect moment of sensual bliss.

  It was magic.

  This was love. What had happened with John Montgomery paled in comparison with the breathless splendor she felt in Patrick’s arms. Not just the pleasure that overwhelmed her body, but the closeness. The emotional connection that made everything so intense. Every touch. Every kiss. Every stroke reverberated through her like wildfire. She felt cherished. Protected. Loved.

  And at that perfect moment—when her heart stopped and her body clutched in one last gasp—they touched heaven together.

  Their shared cries of release tangled in the warm, sultry air of their pleasure.

  The warm rush of his release was caught in the rippling tide of her own.

  Their eyes met and wouldn’t let go—not even when the last shudder of their bodies had ebbed. And what she saw there touched her soul.

  Tears of happiness blurred her vision. Lizzie had found her heart’s desire. She loved him, and he loved her. He might not be ready to admit it, but the truth was there in the emerald depths of his heated gaze.

  Patrick rolled to the side so as not to crush her, feeling as if he’d just run into a stone wall. Every bone in his body crushed. Every muscle ripped to shreds. Once he’d spent almost a week on the run in the Lomond Hills, evading a score of Campbells, without sleep or food and very little water. He felt like that now. When it had all been over, he’d slept for two days.

  What the hell had come over him? He’d never lost himself like that. He’d been wild. Out of control. Possessed by passion unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Passion that had consumed him, wringing out every last ounce of his strength.

  His heart tightened, gazing at the woman collapsed beside him like a rag doll. He swept his hand over her flushed cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

  Her eyes were bright with happiness, giving him an unwelcome twinge. “Do I look hurt?”

  His gaze slid over her red swollen lips, her flushed cheeks, her adorably messed hair, and her ivory breasts rosy from his kisses. No, she didn’t look hurt, she looked very thoroughly ravished.

  And sensual as hell.

  If he hadn’t just had the most amazing orgasm of his life wring him dry, he would be tempted to take her again—just so he could see if it had been real.

  “You look beautiful,” he said honestly.

  He saw the pleasure she took from his compliment, as if it were a rare treat, and vowed to tell her often so that she would never forget it. Her smile, bereft of its usual uncertainty, deepened to pure radiance. It hit him square in the chest. She should look like this always. Happy without restraint. Secure.

  She lay in his arms for a moment, the curve of her body nestled intimately against his. Her cheek and the palm of one soft hand rested on his chest. Absently, her fingers traced the narrow path of dark hair on his stomach. Her hair was spread out like a flaxen veil on his chest, tickling his tanned skin.

  So this was contentment. Would that they could stay like this forever.

  When the pounding of their hearts had steadied and their breathing returned to normal, she propped up her chin on her hand and ventured a wary glance at him. “Are you disappointed?”

  He stilled, not needing to ask what she was talking about. Lizzie hadn’t been a virgin. Though part of him had guessed the truth, he admitted a moment of disappointment to have it confirmed. He
was a man, after all, it was only natural. She was his woman, and he wished that he’d been the first. Irrational, unfair … definitely. But also honest.

  That initial flare of disappointment, however, had fled when he thought of the hurt she must have suffered. He suspected the identity of the man she’d given herself to, and it shed an entirely new light on the events he’d witnessed—and played an unknowing role in—that day. His body clenched. How could the bastard make love to her and then treat her that way?

  He’d taken too long to respond, and she misinterpreted his reaction. “I can understand if you wish to reconsider …” Her voice fell off unsteadily.

  “Nay!” His reaction was swift and forceful; the swell of fierce emotion made him tighten his hold around her. “There is nothing to reconsider.”

  The loss of her maidenhead to him was nothing to what it must have cost her. If anything, it eased his own sense of guilt about taking her.

  Holding her in his arms like this, just the two of them, he found it easy to forget the complications that awaited them beyond. Life married to a MacGregor would be nothing like what she knew. He had nothing to give her. But he would do everything he could to make her happy.

  He ached to taste every delectable inch of her body, cover her creamy soft skin with his hands, and make sure she never regretted the decision to marry him.

  But it was a battle he was doomed to lose.

  How else would she react when she discovered the truth? He’d deceived her. And that deception, though necessary, had never weighed more heavily on him.

  She tilted her head, her eyes scanning his face. “You truly aren’t angry?”

  He cupped her tiny chin. “Not with you.” But he wanted to kill John Montgomery. If the man wasn’t already living his penance, he would do just that.

  She read him better than he realized and eyed him warily. “Do you want to know?”

  He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nay.” It was in the past. “Then I would have to kill him.”

  Her eyes widened, his blunt statement surprising her. “You would do that for me?”

  The woman was daft. “I will kill anyone who harms you.” He cocked a brow. “I hope that doesn’t offend your delicate sensibilities?”

  “No,” she said hesitantly. “Though I’m not used to having such a fierce protector.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Get used to it.” He paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I never meant to hide it from you. I always intended to tell the man I married. But when I imagined an engagement, I thought of a nice quiet discussion in a hall, not … this.” He chuckled, and she blushed. “There wasn’t much time for discussion.”

  “No, there certainly wasn’t,” he said wryly. “Though had you told me ahead of time, it would have saved me a significant amount of pain and suffering.”

  She giggled and then said with mock seriousness, “Your control does you honor, my laird.”

  “Witch.” He slapped her playfully on her bottom. He had no control with her. Heaven help him when she figured it out. “You’ll pay for your insolence.”

  The wicked gleam in her eye stirred his cock from its sated stupor. “I’m looking forward to it.” She leaned up and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

  “I aim to please, my lady.”

  She whacked him playfully. “Not for that, you arrogant beast. For being so understanding.”

  “That’s the first time I’ve ever been accused of that.”

  She looked at him with those crystal-clear blue eyes that never failed to unnerve him. She saw so much more than he wanted her to. “You don’t fool me one bit, Patrick Murray. You aren’t nearly as cynical and impervious as you pretend.” She tapped his chest emphatically. “Beneath that steely chest is a tender heart, and I intend to find it.”

  The playfulness fled, a sudden pall cast over the moment of joy. “Don’t, Lizzie,” he warned, his expression as serious as his tone. “Don’t try to find something that doesn’t exist. You’ll only be disappointed.”

  She shook her head. “I love you. You could never disappoint me.”

  But he would.

  I love you. The words he’d been trying to forget but that seemed to be imprinted on his soul. A ray of light in a pit of blackness. Hope for a man who should know better.

  His chest felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise of foreboding. He hugged her tight, savoring the moment of connection. The thought of losing her tore him apart.

  He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Come. We need to get you back to the hall before someone comes looking for you.”

  “When they hear the news, perhaps they will understand.” Excitement lit her eyes, making her look just like a bairn with a platter of sweets. “I can hardly wait to tell my brothers and cousin.”

  Which would be a disaster. Jamie Campbell and Argyll would recognize him. Marriage was only the first hurdle; he still needed to convince her to run away with him—without giving her cause to suspect the true reason.

  He hated to put a damper on her excitement, but it was important that her brothers and cousin not learn of their marriage until it was too late to be undone. His voice, though grave, gave no hint of his unease. “Are you sure that is wise?”

  Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “You know as well as I do that your brothers and cousin will not be pleased with your choice of husband. They want you to marry Robert Campbell, not a guardsman with little but his sword to recommend him. I don’t want to give them an opportunity to refuse their consent.”

  She eyed him warily. “What are you suggesting?”

  He held her gaze. “That we find a minister to marry us before we tell your family.”

  All of the excitement drained from her face. “You mean a clandestine marriage?”

  He nodded. “Aye.”

  “No,” she said firmly. “I’ll not sneak off as if I’m ashamed of this marriage. I’ll be proud to be your wife. My cousin will perhaps be disappointed, but with my brother’s marriage—”

  “What?”

  She smiled. “I was just as surprised as you. It’s the most amazing thing. I received a missive from Dunoon before the evening meal. It seems Jamie is to marry Caitrina Lamont.”

  The Enforcer and the daughter of the Lamont of Ascog—a MacGregor ally? There had to be a mistake. “You’re sure the woman is Caitrina Lamont?”

  She nodded. “Do you know her?”

  He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Aye.”

  “I hear she is very beautiful.”

  Patrick looked at her sharply, having heard the odd note in her voice. He studied her expression. She was doing her best to seem uninterested, but he could feel her hanging on every nuance of his response. He grinned. Lizzie was jealous. “She’s not my type.”

  “What type is that, beautiful?”

  He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her pursed lips. “Nay, spoiled and sharp-tongued. If this is true, your brother will have his hands full with that one.” If he didn’t despise the man, he would almost pity him.

  She smiled but looked a bit shamefaced. “I should feel sorry for the poor girl. I’m sure she’s not had an easy time of it these past few months.” At his questioning look, she continued. “Apparently, the news my brother received all those weeks ago that drove him from here so quickly had to do with Caitrina Lamont. I don’t have all the details, but from what I’ve been able to piece together from Jamie’s missive and Colin and Robert’s conversation tonight, the Lamont of Ascog and his sons were killed trying to protect the MacGregors.”

  Patrick’s blood turned to ice. He grabbed her arm. “Killed?” Weeks … months ago? What the hell had happened to his kinsmen? “Are you sure?” he said intently. Too intently. She looked down at her arm, and he realized his fingers were pressing into her tender skin. “Sorry,” he said, releasing his hold and trying to calm the race of his heartbeat.

  “I’m sure. I didn’t realize you knew him.”


  “Not well,” he admitted. It was the implication for Alasdair and his brother Iain that worried him. Where the hell were they? Had they been taken? Was that why Gregor had yet to return? He should have come back by now. A heavy pit of dread lodged in his chest. “How did it happen?”

  Lizzie shook her head. “I’m not certain. But from comments Colin made tonight and something Jamie said before he left, I think Colin had something to do with it. But don’t you see what this means? If my cousin has no objection to Jamie marrying a destitute girl tainted by treason, he is not likely to object to my marrying you.”

  “Did your cousin have another bride in mind for your brother?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then the situations are not the same. I won’t risk losing you.”

  “You won’t lose me.”

  “You can be completely certain of that?”

  She bit her lip. “Almost certain.”

  “Almost isn’t good enough.”

  “But my cousin has sent for me—I cannot ignore his summons.”

  “No, but you can delay.”

  “I don’t know …,” she hedged.

  He took her into his arms and gave her a long kiss. She’d rearranged her gown to cover herself again, but his fingers caressed her breast through the thin fabric. When he finally broke off, her eyes were soft with passion again. His finger slid over her swollen mouth. “It will be romantic,” he said huskily.

  A wry smile played upon her lips. “It will be illicit. You’ll not persuade me so easily. But I will agree to consider it.”

  That was good enough for now, but he would persuade her. “And you will say nothing to your brother and Campbell?”

  She nodded. “It won’t be too difficult, since they are leaving in the morning anyway. Now that Alasdair MacGregor has surrendered, Colin hopes it will be easier to round up the other outlaws.”

  “What!” he exploded, unable to hide his shock. Surrendered? Impossible. She was looking at him strangely, and he realized he’d betrayed too much.