He took a step toward her, all thoughts of the messenger and his letter forgotten, but in that instant he saw Mairi’s body stiffen. She stepped back, twitching the shawl defensively about her shoulders, clutching it tight in her fist. The gesture made Jack’s heart jolt again. Instead of wanting to rip the nightgown from her and take her against the wall, he found he wanted to wrap her up tightly and protect her. The switch from predator to protector threw him completely. He cursed under his breath.
“I’ll come and tell you the news as soon as I’ve spoken to him,” he said abruptly.
For a moment he thought Mairi was going to insist on accompanying him, but then she gave a nod that was equally abrupt and backed toward her bedchamber door. “Thank you,” she said. Then she spoiled it. “See that you do,” she added sharply.
Grinning, Jack went downstairs, where the yawning landlord was pulling back the bolts in response to the messenger’s knock. Ten minutes later the man was taking breakfast to set him up for the journey back to Methven and Jack was climbing the stair again, letter in hand, and knocking on the door of Mairi’s chamber.
“Come in here,” he said, gesturing to his own room next door. He did not want her maid interrupting them.
In the time he had been gone, she had taken the hint and now she was completely swathed in a red velvet cloak. Not an inch of bare skin was visible other than her face. Strangely Jack found that there was something mysterious and seductive about her even when she was fully covered. The red velvet rippled sinuously around her slender body and clashed vividly with the red hair that still tumbled about her shoulders. She looked glorious. He found himself transfixed by the shimmer and flow of the velvet and by the knowledge of what lay beneath the rich material.
Hell. His concentration was shot to pieces and all because this woman seemed to be able to command his responses simply by existing. It was a novel experience for him to find himself so much at the mercy of his emotions and he did not like it at all, but there was not much he seemed able to do about it. He allowed her to precede him into the room and shut the door behind her.
She turned, waiting for him to speak, her eyebrows arched in imperious demand. When he did not her expression dissolved into anxiety.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Lucy—the children—are they quite well?”
There was so much concern in her voice that Jack cursed himself for worrying her.
“Everyone at Methven is well.” He saw her expression relax at his words. She smoothed the cloak; her fingers were shaking.
“Thank God,” she said.
“Rob was sending a warning, though,” Jack said. “Your cousin, Wilfred Cardross, has escaped from Edinburgh Jail. Rob wanted us to be aware in case Cardross should spring an attack.”
Mairi was frowning. She sat down on the edge of her bed. “You think that Wilfred might attack us on the journey? And so close to Methven?”
“Since he bears a grudge against both our families,” Jack said dryly, “I would not be at all surprised.” He and Robert had sprung the trap that had captured Wilfred Cardross three years before. Mairi’s brother, Lachlan, was now master of the Cardross estates through his marriage to Dulcibella. There were more than enough reasons, Jack thought, for Cardross to bear a fierce resentment.
“Dismiss your men and ride with me this morning,” he said. “Cardross will be expecting you to be traveling in the coach. It is a sitting target. You’ll be safer with me.”
He saw temptation gleam in her eyes, saw a quicksilver flash of excitement before it faded and died. Earlier in the journey he had found himself wondering whether all spontaneity had been ironed out of Mairi’s life by her formidable control. Now he could see that beneath those layers of restraint there was still a spark of wildness. He wanted to strike that spark to a blaze.
“Do it,” he said. His voice was rough. “You know you want to.”
Her head was bent and she would not meet his eyes, but he could feel the indecision in her like a thread pulled taut. For a moment he thought she was going to accept and his heart surged, but then she looked away and shook her head.
“That would be foolish,” she said, “and dangerous. I’ll be safer in the coach.”
Jack came toward her. “What are you afraid of?” he asked softly. “I’ve told you I will protect you.”
He heard her breath catch, a tiny sound. He was so close to her now that he could see the way that her breasts rose and fell with the quick shaky breaths she took. Once again she would not meet his eyes.
“Look at me,” Jack said.
She looked up then. Her blue eyes were dark and wide, full of shadows.
“What are you afraid of?” he repeated.
“I’m afraid of being alone with you,” she whispered. “I’m afraid of how you make me feel.”
Suddenly they were not speaking of the ride to Methven or the danger posed by Wilfred Cardross and he had never wanted a woman so desperately in his entire life.
His fingers captured her chin and turned her face up to his. Despite the raging need he had for her, he waited, gave her time to move away. Instead she pressed a little closer to him, unconsciously, instinctively. The red velvet cloak rubbed sensually against his body.
Raw lust exploded in him and he kissed her. He had wanted to be gentle at first, but hunger overrode tenderness and instead he kissed her hard and felt her instant response. It was a response that threatened to push them both over the brink too soon, too quickly. Jack felt as though he were sliding into an abyss. There was an edge of desperation in him that he simply did not recognize.
Fighting for breath, he drew back a little.
“May I—” His voice was ragged. He wanted her—now—but just as earlier, what mattered more to him was that she agreed, with no coercion, no doubt and no reluctance. Only yesterday he had thought he could override her feelings. Now he realized that he had been a blatant fool.
This time her response was not immediate. Silence fell for one second, two. Jack was just starting to wish he had not asked and risked rejection when she spoke.
“Yes,” she said. “Please.”
It was the please that undid him.
* * *
JACK PICKED HER up and dropped her in the center of the bed. Mairi was quite unprepared for the suddenness of it. The mattress springs protested as she landed and the eiderdown almost engulfed her. She lay on her back, arms and legs spread like a starfish, the red velvet cloak flying wide, her nightgown riding up about her thighs.
She saw the laughter in Jack’s eyes vanish and her throat dried as his gaze narrowed, sliding over her from the hair that tumbled about her shoulders, over the low, lacy embroidered neckline of the nightgown and down to where her nipples pressed against the silk, and then lower still. Her heart had already been thumping so hard she had been afraid that she would faint. Now heat exploded through her body and with it a sort of shyness that she lay so open to his gaze. She started to move her arms down, but Jack was too quick for her, pinning her wrists above her head and holding them there in one hand while his knee came down between her legs, forcing them apart.
For a long moment she stared up into his face. He was so close now that she could see the stubble on his lean cheek and the thick gold of his lashes. She could see too the way his eyes had darkened with concentrated desire. It made her stomach tumble over and over.
It was too late for regrets and she was not sure she felt them anyway. Instead of discipline and restraint she felt wanton longing as heady as wine. She wanted another taste of wicked delight in a barren existence.
Jack leaned closer. His lips touched hers gently this time with none of the fierce need that had swept them up earlier. He took his time with sweet teasing kisses that promised so much yet always seemed to hold a little back. Before long she was panting and eager. She wanted to reac
h for him, but still he held her in that inexorable grip, her wrists above her head, as he drove her step by slow step toward the most delicious bliss.
A part of her that Mairi had thought she had buried sprang to life. She could neither understand nor control the feelings she had for Jack Rutherford. They stormed through her and swept aside everything but desire.
She had lost her shyness now. It had been destroyed by the need to satisfy the excruciating ache that frustrated her. She no longer felt mortified that she was lying prone beneath Jack with little but a flimsy layer of near-transparent silk between them. She wished the silk to perdition, wished that Jack would release her hands so that she could touch him, wished that he would move his leg just an inch upward to the junction of her thighs so that she could press shamelessly against him and relieve that hot carnal pulse that beat inside her. And he must have known, damn him, because he deliberately moved back a little when she arched upward and he kept kissing her, deeper now so that she was hot and restless and squirming on the bed. Her skin felt too heated and too sensitive. She was acutely responsive to the touch of his mouth on hers, wanting to feel him everywhere.
He drew back a little. The world spun. The morning light seemed too bright against Mairi’s closed lids, her body aching, trembling.
“Open your eyes,” Jack said. His voice was harsh though the kiss that punctuated the words was tender. “I want you to know it’s me this time.”
Mairi opened her eyes. The look in his eyes was harsh, as well; there was anger there and she knew in an instant that he had not forgiven her for the previous time when she had sought oblivion with any man, any lover. He still blamed her for that, as though she should belong to him alone. Yet there was gentleness in him too. He softened his grip on her wrists at last and then swept his hands down over her shoulders in a soft caress, pushing the silk nightgown aside, leaning down to kiss the hollow of her collarbone, the hot skin of her neck, the dip at the base of her throat. Mairi wriggled, feeling the sensual slip of the silk against her breasts almost, but not quite, as tantalizing as a lover’s touch.
“Please...” She arched again.
Jack’s hands stilled on her shoulders, warm and sure. Then he took hold of the front of the nightgown and tore it straight down to her navel, so fast and so violent that she cried out. Cold morning air flowed over her skin, hardening her nipples to tighter buds. Jack pushed the scraps of silk aside and took one tip in his mouth, tugging, licking and sucking on her. His stubble rubbed against her. Mairi’s mind splintered.
“Open your eyes.” His words were a whisper across her skin, enforced with a soft bite to the underside of her breast that was just short of pain. Her body jolted. The sting came again, to her nipple this time. Her whole body twitched. Her lashes flickered.
“I said open your eyes.”
Nip. Harder. She almost came that time, but she did as she was told and opened her eyes. Her gaze was hazy with desire. She saw Jack’s cheek resting against her breast, his tawny hair brushing her skin, dark golden against her paleness. He held her gaze; he raised a hand and cupped her breast, holding it in his palm, and she knew he was claiming her body as his. His fingers toyed with her nipples as though she were his plaything, his possession. Pleasure tightened within her and shimmered. The tension inside her ratcheted tighter like a chain pulled unbearably taut.
“Don’t close your eyes.” He licked her nipple, tasting her like ice cream this time, a deliberate caress. She gasped, arched. He smiled and licked her again.
He took hold of the ragged shreds of the silk and tore it the rest of the way down, then pressed his lips to the curve of her belly and the hollow above her mound. His fingers were at her core and then they were inside her. Mairi could not think, could not hold back. One glorious stroke of his thumb over her nub, and a second, and she shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, so sweet and violent that she would have screamed had Jack not covered her mouth with his again.
She felt him shift above her, fumbling to release his shaft. He was shaking. She noticed it even through the tremors that still convulsed her body, even through the cascade of pleasure.
“Look at me.” Again the command came. He sounded less in control, though, closer to the edge. She felt a surge of power that made her smile. She kept her eyes closed.
His hands swept the length of her, from her shoulders, down over her breasts, her belly, claiming her again with his touch. The soft floating feeling of satiation within her faded. Sharp need snapped back. She could feel the tip of his shaft at her core and tried not to rise to meet him, tried not to beg for more. It was impossible. Instead she reached for him, spreading her legs wider to accommodate him between them, digging her fingers into his buttocks as she pulled him inside her. She heard his sharp catch of breath as her body clasped his.
“So hot. So tight.” His breath stirred the tendrils of hair that clung damply to her neck. His lips brushed her neck. “I’ve dreamed of this, dreamed of you.”
She thought he would take her hard and fast, showing that this time she was his to use. She would not have cared. Her excitement was already burning again, her body greedy for more. But he did not plunge into her. Instead he moved in long, slow strokes that took her earlier pleasure and stirred it up again, drawing it out, strengthening it by unhurried degrees until her body felt unbearably tight and wanting all over again. She opened her eyes and watched him; watched him as he made love to her, watched him as he bent his head again to tease her breasts, watched him as he slid his hands possessively over her hips, raising her to meet those long, deep thrusts. She was still watching when her body finally tipped over again into slow and blissful release and she tilted her head back and arched upward, taking Jack with her.
Gradually she became aware of her surroundings again, of the strengthening light streaming into the room and the birdsong beyond the window and the stir of the inn awakening around them. Her heart was still racing. She felt stunned by the discovery of a pleasure she had simply not known. It had felt different from the previous time. She struggled to try to understand why and realized that before she had craved only oblivion.
She felt a sliding sensation of fear. This time she had wanted Jack. She had thought of nothing but him. Her need for him had been overwhelming, and the difference it had made to her response had been overwhelming too.
Emotions swamped her, feelings she did not recognize.
“Jack,” she said. It was the first time that she had used his name, and even as she did so she realized that something of how she felt must have colored her voice because she felt him shift, drawing away from her. Cold air lapped about her and she realized that she was naked, lying tumbled on the bed, legs still spread apart, abandoned and satiated, while Jack still had all his clothes on.
“You need to return to your own chamber before your maid comes looking for you.” Jack’s voice was cool, emotionless. “We don’t want to cause further scandal.” He sat up and fastened his breeches. He did not look at her.
Mairi flinched. Her entire body flushed with embarrassment.
She felt like a whore. Except that a whore would expect nothing more than a fat purse of gold, whereas she had expected at the very least a modicum of respect. In a flash she saw her mistake. She had allowed herself to be seduced. She had forgotten that Jack had blackmailed her into becoming his mistress, that their relationship did nothing but demean her, that he had no respect for her at all.
In that moment she hated herself; she hated what she had done and how she had felt and she wanted to hate Jack as well, but she could not and that made her all the more upset. Jack had never made any secret of the fact that he had no use for intimacy. He wanted no emotional commitment to anyone. She had known and understood that, but in the heat of desire she had forgotten it. Jack had not lied to her or made false promises. He had made love to her because he desired her, and now that his lust was satisfied
he wanted her gone.
For a moment the humiliation held her quite still, and then she jumped from the bed, wincing at the cold of the bare boards against her feet, and grabbed her cloak as quickly as she could, wrapping it about her with hands that shook. Once it was tied and she felt vaguely decent again, she could look him in the eye. He, damn him, had already adjusted his clothes and was sitting waiting with ill-concealed impatience for her to be gone.
“Our betrothal is over,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?” Jack raised one brow. She tried not to appreciate how handsome he looked, casually disheveled, so masculine. That was absolutely nothing to the purpose.
Mairi swallowed hard, gripping the cloak tightly, trying to find a dignity that was all too difficult when she was stark naked and could still feel the echo of Jack’s touch through her body.
“Our betrothal is over,” she repeated sharply. “It was a mistake. So was sleeping with you. I don’t require your help. I don’t want anything else from you and I will not be your mistress.”
She broke off. Jack had come to his feet and he was looking dangerously angry. He took a step toward her and took hold of her by the shoulders. Despite the anger in his eyes, his grip was gentle and warm, and it made the heat seep once again through her perfidious body. Mairi shivered and clutched the cloak even tighter to her.
“There is a limit to how many times you can make love with me,” Jack said softly, “and pretend that you don’t want to.” The gentle stroke of his hands over the velvet rubbed against her skin and made Mairi shiver all the more. He slipped one hand inside the cloak and found her breast, cupped it, rubbing his thumb over the nipple, which was already hard from the abrasion of the velvet. He leaned closer so that his lips were an inch from hers.
One Night with the Laird Page 12