The Campbell Trilogy

by Monica McCarty

  Something warm and tingly was building inside her. She writhed, arching against his mouth, her thighs closing around his hand, craving the friction.

  Her hands clutched his shoulders, his back, craving his weight and his heat. Her body possessed by a power that she could not control.

  “Oh, God,” she cried out.

  He lifted his mouth from her breast and met her half-lidded gaze. “Don’t fight it, love. Let it come.”

  She shook her head. She knew this wasn’t all of it. She wanted him to share her pleasure. She needed him. All of him. The thick column of his erection burned against her thigh. “I want you,” she moaned. “Please.”

  Jeannie felt the change, sensing the moment he lost control. Sensed when the passion took on a force of its own. He radiated sexual energy, his body hard and determined.

  Duncan knew what she wanted.

  Her soft plea was too much. Every muscle in his body stretched taut, pulled to the very limit of restraint. Blood surged through his veins. His head pounded, his erection throbbed. He felt like he was about to explode.

  There was a time he could have stopped, but that time had passed.

  Somehow his cock replaced his finger and he was pushing inside her. His jaw was drawn into a hard line, the vein in his neck pulsing with the effort to find a thread of restraint to hold on to.

  She was too tight and he was too big, but she was achingly wet and eager for him. He scooped his hand under one leg, bringing it to his hip, opening her wider for him.

  He held her gaze as he pushed inch by paralyzing inch inside her. It was the single most powerful moment of his life. He didn’t know himself capable of this kind of emotion. This wasn’t just about lust, but about the joining of two people into one. God, he loved her. So much that it almost scared him.

  Her body gripped him like a hot fist. Sweat poured off his brow as he fought the urge to sink inside her in one powerful thrust. It would hurt, but he wanted to make it as pleasurable for her as possible.

  Slow …

  He should never have looked down. The sight of her soft pink flesh stretched around him made every muscle in his body clench. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, as white hot lust surged through him. The last thread of control snapped.

  His eyes met hers. “I’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth. “God, I love you so much,” he bit off before plunging through her maidenhead in one deep stroke.

  Jeannie thought her heart would explode. “I love you—” Too, she started, but her words were lost when he thrust inside her and the sharp piercing pain made her cry out.

  Her eyes met his—more in surprise than accusation. The sudden interjection of pain brought a swift curtailment of pleasure and with it a sudden flicker of panic. Dread washed over her. What am I doing?

  He was inside her; she was no longer a maid. That much was obvious. There was no mistaking the fullness of him inside her. He was a big man—a very big man—and she could feel every thick inch of him.

  What they’d just done could not be undone.

  His gaze burned into hers. His jaw was clenched tight and all the muscles in his neck and shoulders flexed. He was pulled as taut as a bowstring, holding himself completely still. He didn’t seem to be breathing. From the look of him, she wasn’t the only one in pain.

  “I’m sorry,” he said tightly. “There is some pain the first time. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t …” his voice dropped off.

  He’s embarrassed, she realized. He was so confident and controlled, sometimes she forgot that he wasn’t much older than she. Though undoubtedly he’d had more experience, it warmed her to know that in some ways he was just as carried away as she was.

  “I’m fine,” she said automatically, realizing that she was. The pain had lessened considerably, replaced by the sudden awareness of the wicked intimacy of their position. Her leg was wrapped around his waist and she could feel the weight of him between her legs. A shiver of desire rekindled inside her. He was inside her, filling her.

  He bent down to kiss her gently on the lips. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, lacing her hands behind his neck. Looking into his incredible blue eyes, she had to fight the wave of emotion thickening her throat. “I love you.”

  A wide grin spread across his mouth. “And I love you.”

  How fortunate they were to have found one another so young. Her heart squeezed, thinking of the lifetime they had to look forward to.

  He kissed her again, this time more demanding, his tongue sliding in and out with long carnal strokes.

  All of a sudden, she understood. She felt herself warm and then soften around him as her body awakened to the pleasure he could bring. Her fingers dug into his shoulders insistently as the kiss spiraled out of control. It wasn’t enough.

  He felt so hot and big inside her, and anticipating the pleasure he would bring, her hips nudged against him.

  He growled in her mouth, murmuring an oath before he started to move. It was as if her small movement had set him free.

  It was incredible. The sensation of him pumping in and out of her in long rhythmic strokes flooded her with heat. The jarring force of each thrust shuddered through her in wave after wave of tingling sensation. His big, muscular body posed hard above her.

  She felt the heavy feeling building inside her again. Felt the tight coiling in her womb.

  Her pulse raced and her breath quickened.

  He sank deeper and deeper. Harder and harder. Faster and faster.

  Her mind went black. All she could think about was him. He was giving her something, something that hovered just out of her reach.

  God, right there.

  She arched her back and cried out as the pressure crystallized, then broke apart. Her womb tightened as wave after wave of contractions spasmed through her.

  He joined her, leaning his head back and let out a sound of pure masculine satisfaction. His big body stiffened and then shook as the power of his release tore through him—and into her, flooding her with warmth.

  When the wave of pleasure had ebbed, he held himself still over her for a moment, looking into her eyes. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

  The warmth in her heart spread to her cheeks. “Really?”

  He shook his head, his dark hair slumping across his brow in a way that made him appear roguish and heartstoppingly young. He rolled to the side, but still kept her tucked under his shoulder and snuggled against the hard curve of his body. The warmth between her legs suddenly felt chill and empty in his absence.

  They were silent for a moment, staring up at the canopy of stars. Jeannie was finding it difficult to figure out exactly what had just happened. One moment they were kissing and the next they were making love. The feelings he aroused in her had been too powerful to ignore. Nor could she feign regret for what had happened. Duncan Campbell had made her a woman. He’d awakened a new side of her that she hadn’t known existed and given her a glimpse of heaven in the process.

  Who would have imagined that the joining of a man and woman could be like that? With her rudimentary knowledge of the marital act she’d thought the concept somewhat … strange. Never could she imagine how her body would crave his like that.

  She might not have planned to give him her virginity tonight, and admitted it might have been more prudent to wait at least until they were formally betrothed, but she was not sorry that it had happened. He loved her and she loved him. They were meant to be together, she knew that more now than ever.

  Her elation, however, was somewhat tempered by his continued silence. He was quiet. Too quiet.

  Jeannie ventured a glance at him from under her lashes, the implacable expression once more affixed to his face. He seemed lost in thought. Like her, he was probably contemplating the significance of what had just occurred. But unlike her he did not seem as happy about it. His next words confirmed her suspicions. “I’m sorry, Jeannie. When I asked you to meet me tonight, I never meant for this t
o happen.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. I know you didn’t bring me out here for this, but I’m not sorry that it did.”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “You’re not?”

  She shook her head. “We are to be married, aren’t we? I’d wager it isn’t uncommon for betrothed couples to anticipate their wedding night.”

  The hint of a smile cracked his stoic demeanor. “Probably not.” The smile fell, the look he gave her was filled with consternation. “But you must realize that a betrothal is not a foregone conclusion.” Something flickered in his gaze—it looked almost like pain. “Your father might have a few objections.”

  Because of his birth. Jeannie studied his face in the darkness. Except for the tightness around his mouth, his expression was still—too still. The lack of reaction spoke much. Though Duncan never let on that his being a bastard bothered him, for the first time Jeannie realized that it did.

  It struck her that she really knew very little about him.

  She dispersed the sudden pall that had been cast over the moment with a vow to change that as soon as possible—she wanted to know everything about him.

  “I will just have to persuade him then that you are the only man for me.” When Duncan didn’t appear relieved, she added, “Don’t worry, my father loves me, he will want to see me happy.”

  “I hope you are right. My father’s support will help. I will speak with him immediately upon my return. With any luck we can be wed as soon as the banns are read.” He gazed up at the moon. “I better get you back to the castle before you are missed.”

  He stood and helped her to her feet. She wobbled a little, her legs as unsteady as a newborn colt. Once she’d recovered her balance, she put her toes to the edge of the rock and turned back to look at him over her shoulder. “Race you back,” she challenged.

  “You’re on,” he said.

  Together they dove into the blackness and raced toward the other side of the loch where they’d left their clothes.

  This time Jeannie won.

  She spent the better part of the walk back to the castle threatening him with bodily harm if he ever let her win again—her newfound knowledge of his body and just what parts to threaten already coming in handy.

  Chapter 5

  Despite Jeannie’s assurances, Duncan still could not convince himself that in making love to her he hadn’t somehow failed them both.

  He took full responsibility for what had happened. He was the one with experience.

  But nothing like that had ever happened to him. Never had he so completely lost control. He’d felt lust before, but it wasn’t simple lust that he’d felt with Jeannie. It had been much more complicated—bigger. He hadn’t just wanted to take her body, he’d wanted her.

  But love was no excuse.

  Taking her innocence was a black mark against him—one that would only be lifted when they married.

  He’d played with fire and burned them both. He’d made a mistake; he just hoped to hell it wasn’t an irreparable one.

  She’d better be right about her father.

  At least Duncan could count on his father’s support. That knowledge was the only thing keeping his rising apprehension in check.

  After a very public and thus unsatisfactory departure from Jeannie where he was unable to say half the things he wanted to, Duncan pushed hard across the Highlands to Knapdale and Castleswene. In his eagerness to secure his father’s assistance in speaking to Jeannie’s father, the journey by land and sea that would normally take upward of three days took less than two.

  He found his father in the laird’s solar, the small antechamber off the Great Hall.

  He appeared to be in deep discussion with a few of his luchd-taighe guardsmen, but as soon as Duncan entered he ushered them away.

  The Chief of Campbell of Auchinbreck rose from the bench behind the great table, clasping Duncan’s forearm. At the same time, Duncan clasped his with a firm shake in what amounted to a half handshake, half embrace.

  Blue eyes met blue. Though Duncan had equaled his father’s height of a hand over six feet, his father had at least two stone on him in solid, battle-wrought muscle. At just past forty, his hair was mostly light brown with just a few stray strands of gray at his temple.

  His father’s implacable countenance betrayed none of his thoughts, but Duncan had caught the sudden spark in his gaze when he’d entered the room. His father couldn’t completely mask his pleasure in seeing him.

  Once the perfunctory greetings were exchanged, his father settled back in his chair, and Duncan remained standing, facing him from across the enormous carved oak table. Over ten feet in length and three feet wide, it dominated the small room.

  The hard, battle-scarred face, so like his own, studied him thoughtfully. “Grant was not convinced?”

  Duncan stiffened. Did his father have another man at court? Colin had left nearly a week ago—so the report couldn’t have come from his brother. Had his father not trusted Duncan to complete his task? The blow to his pride packed a surprising wallop. “You’ve already had a report?”

  “Nay,” his father said. The hint of recrimination in his voice suggested he’d guessed the direction of Duncan’s thoughts. “I know you too well. I could see the moment you walked into the room that you were on edge.”

  His father was right, though it wasn’t for the reason he suspected. Duncan was confident that Grant would join the king’s forces—something had caused a change of heart in him the day of Duncan’s departure—but that confidence didn’t extend to Duncan’s bid for his daughter’s hand.

  “Grant was initially reluctant, but I think he can be persuaded. The king has made it clear that he expects to have his support.”

  “So it’s either anger his king or anger his lord.”

  “Aye, and James is not as easily ignored now that he appears the most likely choice to be named Elizabeth’s heir. The king will soon have the power of England’s navy behind him—Grant would be taking a risk to defy him.” Duncan furrowed his brow. “Though until a few days ago I thought he might do just that.”

  The observation seemed to please his father. “Ah, he must have received my missive.”

  “Missive?” Duncan questioned casually, tamping down the urge to bristle again.

  “Colin had a suggestion when he returned from Stirling Castle; I thought it a sound one. Perhaps it helped.” Colin? Duncan was taken aback. What did his brother have to do with this? His father’s hard gaze scrutinized his face. “But this is good news. What is it that has you amiss?”

  Duncan clasped his hands behind his back, forcing himself to stand still though the urge to move was strong. He couldn’t recall ever being this apprehensive about anything. He almost didn’t know where to start. “I, too, have a proposition that I hope will solidify Grant’s alliance with our side.” Duncan waited.

  “Go on.”

  He took a deep breath. “I have asked Jean Grant, the laird’s eldest daughter, to be my wife, and she has agreed.” The shock on his father’s face could not be more profound. Before he could respond, Duncan added, “I anticipate there might be some objection and would ask for your help in persuading her father to see the benefit of the alliance.”

  His father shook his head. “It’s impossible.”

  The words were so unexpected it took Duncan a moment to realize what he’d said. He stiffened. “I don’t understand. The lass is agreeable.”

  For the first time in Duncan’s recollection his father appeared to be at a loss. His normally implacable expression was all too readable. He looked dumbfounded, aggrieved. “Whether the lass is agreeable makes no difference, other arrangements have been made.”

  “What other arrangements?”

  “The missive I mentioned. It was to propose an alliance between your brother and the lass.”

  The blood slid from Duncan’s face. “Colin?”

  His father nodded. “He was quite taken with her.”

  “How coul
d he be? They barely exchanged three words.”

  “Three words or a hundred, the offer has been made and cannot be rescinded.”

  Duncan couldn’t believe this was happening. “But if Grant hasn’t agreed—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” A pained expression appeared on his father’s face. He met his gaze unflinchingly. “Surely, you see why it would be impossible now.”

  His chest burned. Duncan could see. Too well. Having the heir exchanged for a bastard would be perceived as an insult.

  A sliver of what could only be termed resentment, something he’d never experienced before, wormed its way inside him.

  He clenched and reclenched his fists at his side. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t give her up—not Jeannie. The thought of his own brother married to the woman he loved …

  “You’ll have to find another lass,” his father said, more gently than Duncan had ever heard him speak.

  Duncan shook his head stubbornly. “There is no other lass.” His voice was hollow and ragged. He needed to make his father understand. “I love her.”

  The flicker of compassion in his father’s face was cold comfort. “I’m sorry.”

  This was the last thing Duncan had expected. He’d always been able to count on his father’s support. Always. “You can’t do this.”

  “It’s already done.”

  The cool finality of his tone set off a flare of anger inside Duncan. “You don’t understand …”

  All of a sudden his father did. Fury quickly drowned out whatever sympathy his father had just felt. He jumped to his feet, reached across the table, and grabbed Duncan by the edge of his leather doublet—his eyes as hard as ice. “What the hell have you done?”

  Duncan wrenched away. He wasn’t a lad anymore, ready to take whatever punishment his father dolled out. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but neither would he be taken to task for it. “Nothing more than what is natural between two people who love each other and intend to marry,” he said evenly, not shrinking from the anger in his father’s cold gaze.