“How the devil am I supposed to fix this?” Alec murmured to the loch.
“It’s a puzzle. I know ye need the money.”
“Sophie,” Alec mused.
“Aye. She has plenty, but there’s more to this than just money. I lived my whole life without love, swimming in this bloody loch because I couldn’t forget her.”
“Caroline.” Alec sighed.
“Georgiana.” Angus sighed. “Not that I could have married her, ye understand.” He took off his bonnet and tossed it on the ground in frustration. “I didn’t have a choice, and you do. I understand, lad, truly I do. You have to choose between your heart’s desire, and your duty as laird.”
Alec stared across the loch at the tower, not hearing a word, and Angus followed his gaze. “Aye, I have my own history with that tower, lad. I know well enough that it can drive a man daft, remembering, wishing things had been different.” Alec didn’t move. “Och, didn’t I teach you anything? Responsibility, duty, I remember teaching ye that. Probably sitting right about here too. The clan comes first, I recall telling ye. I believed it then. I should have taught you about love. When I lost Georgiana, I married for money. I had to, after Culloden. Yer grandmother’s family was loyal to the Crown. They kept their land, their fortune, and they helped hunt down the poor fools who fought for Charlie, but marrying her meant I could keep Glenlorne, and I thought that was all that mattered. I couldn’t have gone after Georgiana, ye understand—she was already married to Somerson, lad. It was too late for us. But you, Alec, you have a choice to make, and I hope ye’ll make it before it’s too late.”
Alec rubbed his wet hair with a fold of his plaid, oblivious. “I know what you’re thinking. I spent many nights swimming here myself, trying not to remember,” Angus said. He smiled out at the water. “Och, she was a sweet thing, just like Caroline is—”
Alec got up and wrapped his plaid around his hips, belting it in place. He didn’t bother to put on his shirt. He slung it over his shoulder and headed back toward Glenlorne.
Angus watched him go, and felt the agony of loss all over again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
It was done. Caroline paced the floor of her room. She was free. Or was she?
Freedom came at a price. A terrible price. She would most likely spend her life taking care of other people’s children as a governess, or a teacher. Yet she would not have it otherwise.
She would probably never marry at all, and had no desire to. Her heart belonged yet again to a man she could not have. Unfortunately, this time she wasn’t merely fondly hoping that a certain gentleman would propose, and doing her very best to convince herself she was in love with him.
She knew now that those pallid feelings hadn’t been love at all, just a desire to belong somewhere, to someone, because she’d been raised to expect to marry within her class, breed heirs for him, and run his estates. There would have been no adventures, no surprises, no Alec.
As much as it hurt in this moment, she would not have missed the past weeks for the world.
It was a relief to be free of Somerson, to be independent, though she had been pampered and cared for all her life, had money and luxuries. She could live without those. Losing Alec was harder. Now her choice was made, she knew now she couldn’t remain at Glenlorne and watch as he married Sophie.
She crossed to the window and sat on the window seat, looking out at the old tower, standing sentinel over the glen. “Keep him safe, make him happy,” she whispered.
The crunch of gravel caught her by surprise. Who was out at this late hour? Alec came up the drive. Her eyes widened, and she stared at him from the anonymity of her window, high above him. He was wearing his kilt, but his chest was bare, his shirt over his shoulder. His hair was wet, sleek against his head. The light of the torches that lit the outside of the castle flared over his broad shoulders and naked chest, turning his flesh to gold.
Caroline’s mouth watered, and she remembered exactly how warm his skin was, how hard the muscle beneath, and how she had dug her nails into his shoulders as he loved her. Her first time. And the last, if one didn’t count the wicked game he’d played with her at dinner. Her body flushed and tingled. She wanted more.
She bit her lip and shut her eyes, trying to still the longing.
When she opened her eyes again, Alec had stopped walking. He stood below her window looking up at her, just the way he had the day she first saw him. She held her breath and tightened her hand on the stone sill, and felt his gaze like a gentle finger moving over her skin, quickening her heartbeat, raising goose bumps, making desire rush through her veins. She stared back, unable to move, even to break the spell.
He groaned, and the soft sound echoed off the stones.
She watched as he turned back the way he’d come and disappeared down the path that led to the loch.
For a long moment Caroline hovered in the window, watching the dark path, wishing he’d come back, climb the stairs, throw open the door to her room as he did before. He didn’t come. She should go to bed, be sensible, but what point was there in lying down? She wouldn’t sleep, not with so much in her head to prevent it. She needed— She shut her eyes. She shouldn’t.
She grabbed a shawl and hurried down the stairs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
She heard the splash of water as she neared the loch. She paused in the shadows and looked out across the dark, silken surface. She saw his head appear, like a seal or an otter, and she slipped deeper into the darkness under the trees, and almost tripped on his discarded clothes. She should go, she thought, walk away before he saw her, demanded an explanation. She didn’t have one. She was on a fool’s errand. She turned away.
“Don’t go,” he called. “Or at least don’t go if you were looking for me.”
Caroline clasped her hands together tightly as she stepped into view. “I wasn’t,” she said. “Not really. I couldn’t sleep. I was just walking.” That sounded like a thin excuse indeed—what kind of a ninny went walking all alone at night? Mind you, what kind of ninny went swimming at midnight? “Is the water cold?” she asked, striving for a conversational tone.
“Not nearly cold enough,” he replied.
Caroline frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Care to join me and find out?”
She blinked. Was he suggesting she remove her clothing, lay it beside his on the bank, and swim? She’d never done such a thing, not even as a child. Still she was tempted. She’d seen the local children swimming in the loch by day. It was just one more of Glenlorne’s pleasures. A bolt of dismay pierced her. “I’m leaving,” she said.
“Suit yourself,” he called back.
“I mean I’m leaving Glenlorne.”
He was still in the water for a moment. She stared down at her fingers, white as bone in the moonlight. “I will stay for the wedding—Lottie’s wedding—then I will go.” She made the decision as she spoke. She could not stay for his wedding, watch Sophie simper and blush while Alec smiled down at her, kissed her, cherished her.
Too late she realized he was coming out. She watched his silhouette rise from the loch, broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs, the water cascading off his skin as he strode toward her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Her heart clenched and her mouth dried to ashes.
He stopped a few feet from her. “And where will you go?” He set his hands on his hips, as if he was completely oblivious to his nakedness. He looked like a Greek statue—minus the fig leaf—sculpted and perfect. A shiver of desire coursed through her. She bent to pick up his shirt, handing it to him with her eyes properly averted.
He tossed it aside and stepped toward her. He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “And go where?” he demanded again. “I think I deserve an answer.”
Anger flared, and she pushed his hand away. “How can I stay? After dinner tonight, after—” She stopped.
“What’s William Mears to you, Caroline?” he asked. “You lit up the mome
nt he smiled at you.”
“William?” she squeaked. “You did—that—because I smiled at Will?”
He put his hands on his hips, and she tried her best not to look down the length of his body.
“Will, is it?”
“We grew up together. Everyone thought we might marry someday, but he’s betrothed to Lottie. You can’t possibly be jealous of Will. I don’t love—” She stopped before she admitted something best kept hidden.
“He certainly seemed enamored of you. I know lust when I see it.”
So did she, and the evidence of his desire was obvious. She folded her hands over her chest. “Will is like a brother.”
“He wasn’t looking at you like a brother.”
“Still that gave you no right to do what you did.”
“You enjoyed it.”
“I was mortified.”
They were standing nose to nose. He reached up and caressed her cheek, his finger icy. “Do you know how beautiful you are when you are properly pleasured?”
“That was hardly proper! Why do you think I stabbed you with a fork?” She made the mistake of looking down at his leg, searching for the puncture wounds. Her breath caught at the sight of his erection.
“Don’t go,” he whispered.
“Do you mean now, this moment?” she asked, surprised at the huskiness of her voice, the weakness in her legs. “It’s all there is, Alec. I can’t stay.”
“The girls need you.”
“It’s not about that,” she murmured, intoxicated by the nearness of his body.
“I need you too,” he said.
Caroline saw the movement of his throat as he swallowed. She shook her head.
“Only because I am your servant. Because I was—convenient. You have Sophie. There’s no need to apologize for—for what happened in the tower. It was the fire, the drink, the—”
His fingers on her cheek stopped her. His hand was soft, cool, gentle as it stroked her face, cupped her cheek.
“It was more than that. Don’t sell yourself short. I wanted you.”
She stared into the dark hollows of his eyes. “You thought I was Sophie.”
“I thought you were perfect.”
She felt the nearness of his body, the warmth of his skin, despite the fact that he’d been swimming in near ice water moments before. She pressed her cheek into his palm, and shut her eyes for a moment, wished just this once, it was all true, and real, and she wasn’t cursed—
He groaned. “Damn it, Caroline, either kiss me or send me back into the bloody loch! I can’t bear this any longer, being close to you, not touching you.”
With a cry of need, she kissed him, slamming her lips into his, pressing herself against the wet length of his naked body.
Alec caught her lips against his. Her body was warm against his loch-chilled skin, and he molded the length of her body to his, devouring her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, reveling in the taste of her. She was everything he remembered she was, everything he’d dreamed of for weeks. More. He broke the kiss, pressing gently on her shoulders.
“God, Caroline. This time I’ll give you the chance to say no, to refuse me. Go—run—back to the castle and lock your door,” he muttered against her ear, kissing the shell of it.
“No,” she said.
“I can’t ask you to stay . . .” His hand dipped into the low bodice of her gown to cup her breast, the soft weight filling his palm, the nipple peaking at his touch.
“I’m leaving,” she murmured, kissing his cheek, his chin, his mouth.
“This is the last time,” he said against her lips.
“The very last time,” she agreed, her voice husky.
He couldn’t think anymore, didn’t want to consider what the morning would bring, or what it would be like at Glenlorne without her. She nipped at his earlobe and he groaned.
He pressed his back against a tree, spread his legs, drew her between them, and she arched her hips against him, rubbing, soft little gasps of need escaping from her. There was no need to tell her what he wanted. She already knew. She reached down and grasped his cock and he groaned.
His hands fumbled at the buttons on the back of her gown, lust making him clumsy. Her gentle exploration of his body was driving him wild, making it difficult to concentrate. He abandoned the buttons and slid his fingers down the warm slopes of her breast to scoop them out of the low bodice. Her nipples peaked instantly under his thumbs, and she gasped and threw her head back, thrusting herself into his hands, wordlessly demanding more.
He grasped her hand, took her the few steps to where his discarded plaid lay, and fell back, drawing her down on top of him. Long locks of hair fell over him, tickling his face and his chest. He could feel the heat of her as she straddled his hips, and he fumbled to raise her skirts, sliding his hand up over the silken thighs, dipping between her legs until he brushed the curls at her center. He inserted a finger into her, felt her tremble and sigh. She was wet, ready for him, and he stroked the soft petals of her flesh, making her wetter still. He caught her cry, kissing her hard, using his tongue in his mouth as he used his fingers below, driving her release higher.
“Now,” he commanded, grasping her hips, positioning her. She plunged down onto him, and shivered in renewed climax almost at once. He thrust into her, hard and fast, overcome with need, holding her buttocks in his palms, feeling the flex of the warm globes of feminine flesh as she moved with him, strove for pleasure in time with him. In the dappled darkness, he could see her exposed breasts above him, the nipples round and dark, saw her lip caught in white teeth.
“Again, love,” he murmured, holding back his own release, It was like trying to hold back a team of runaway horses. He was on the edge, buried deep in the tight paradise of her body. She gave a soft cry, swiveling her hips, trying to drive him deeper still. He stopped thinking about anything but how good she felt, how right. He gritted his teeth and thrust into her until she cried out, and he pressed into her as far as he could go, and let the molten waves of release claim him.
He clasped her to his chest. Still inside her, caressing the smooth planes of her back, listening to her breath singing through her body. He kissed her neck, and she raised her head to kiss his lips again. He stroked her back, memorized the curves of her figure, the softness of her thighs and buttocks, the smell of her skin.
“When will you go?” he asked.
“A few days. Once arrangements are made,” she said, and rose, slipping off his body. He felt the chill night air rush in. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned away, rising to straighten her gown shyly. He leaned on his elbow.
“Come and sleep for a while,” he said, holding out his hand. “My plaid will cover us both.”
She stayed where she was. “I know. But it’s almost dawn. Someone might see, and we have to get up in a few hours for the hunt.”
He’d forgotten that. “Of course,” he said, rising. “I’ll walk back with you, at least as far as the bottom of the hill.” He pulled his shirt over his head, and shook out his plaid, folded it, wrapped it around his hips, and fastened his belt. She walked ahead of him along the narrow path, ferns and flowers brushing against her skirt.
They reached the spot where the woods ended and the lawn began, and she stopped, turning to him in the shadows. He touched her face.
“I wish—” he began, but she lowered her head, pulled back.
“You are betrothed to Sophie.”
“Yes. It would it be dishonorable to break the betrothal, it would—” He groaned. “I’ve never done the honorable thing in my life, so why does it matter so much now?”
She smiled in the half light. “Because you are the Laird of Glenlorne. Your clan needs a leader, Alec,” she said softly. “This is what matters.”
“I’ve hardly been honorable toward you.”
“I don’t blame you for any of this. Nor do I regret it.”
“You are a remarkable woman, Caroline. Where will you go when you lea
ve?”
She shook her head, remained mute.
“At least let me help you find a place,” he offered.
“No, Alec. I don’t want that.”
“Why?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Because you’ll know where to find me. It’s better if we part without any attachments.” She turned and began to walk toward the castle. He caught her arm, drew her back.
“You’ll know where to find me, though. You’ll come back to me if you need help, won’t you?” He wanted her again, wanted to drag her down, lay her in the ferns, and let them find her in his arms, but he could not.
He had responsibilities. How he hated the word.
He turned away, frustrated, angry, and headed back into the woods.
“Aren’t you coming back to the castle?” she called after him.
He stopped. “I think I’ll take another swim,” he said. He came back and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Caroline,” he said softly.
She met his eyes. “Good night, Alec.”
He knew she stood and watched him walk away, but he didn’t look back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The hunting party waited for the mist to clear before setting off into the hills to hunt. Leith glanced at the straggling trail of folk behind him and pushed his tam back to look at his companion. “What exactly are we looking for, Jock?”
Jock scanned the heather, the woods by the loch, and the slopes that led up toward the old tower. “Anything the Sassenachs can shoot at.”
Leith puffed his cheeks and blew air out. “Grouse season doesn’t start for nigh on a fortnight.”
Jock spit into the heather. “Aye, I ken it. The Sassenachs ken it as well. Let’s hope the grouse don’t ken it.”
“There are hares about. Will they do?”
Jock sighed. “So long as they don’t shoot the sheep, it’s fine with me.”
He ducked as a shot rang out, and Leith dove into the heather. A bird on the wing flapped away, squawking its displeasure, but unharmed. “That’s a bonxie!” Leith pointed. “Ye can’t eat those!” He picked up his tam and gaped at the bullet hole.
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