Deception of a Highlander

by Madeline Martin

  But Mariel was not interested in love or flirtation. Her prize sat at the head of the table, silent and brooding—and completely oblivious of her presence.

  “Ye’re beautiful, Mariel,” Colin slurred.

  She smiled in response to the compliment. Considerable care had been taken with her appearance. A simple violet gown of silk had been chosen for the way it hugged her body and complimented her smooth skin. Her hair was left unbound and cascaded down her back in glossy waves. The way Kieran liked it.

  “And you are a handsome man. So strong, intelligent,” she purred, “important.” She waited for her words to take effect through his whisky infused haze. “I bet you know everything there is to know about Skye…even things you shouldn’t.” A well-placed giggle took the stark questioning from her words. Men were more apt to disclose information when they assumed a woman was harmless and silly.

  His eyebrow cocked arrogantly. “That I do. I help Kieran with all of his private business. There’s no one who knows more, save Kieran himself.”

  Her heart flinched at Colin’s obvious pride. She swirled the remnants of wine in her cup, but did not drink it. Everything soured in her stomach, churned into bitter disgust. She hated this questioning, the use of people’s trust. She wanted to run away from the hall and not stop until she was somewhere dark and cold. Somewhere her skin could prickle and ice the way her insides did.

  But she could not. Instead she smiled at Colin and pressed further. “Then you are the perfect person to help me understand things here. Does the entire clan live here in the castle?”

  “Ach, no! There are many more people living throughout the island, just no so easy to find.”

  That was exactly what she had assumed. “I bet you know where to find each and every one of them, don’t you?” She leaned closer, her leg brushing his beneath the table.

  His hooded gaze dipped to the low neckline of her dress. “We should go somewhere more private, aye? There are more important matters I’d like to…discuss.”

  “If we prolong it, you will enjoy it more.” The caress of her lips against his hair added intimacy to her whispered words. The drink would see him to dark oblivion before he ever had a chance to touch her.

  Her gaze flicked back to where Kieran sat at the head of the table and her heart sank. He was locked in deep conversation with Alec, his face turned away from her.

  Jealousy, it appeared, did not work on him after all.

  • • •

  “If ye dinna get Colin out of here right now, I’m going to kill him,” Kieran growled at Alec.

  “Ye never laid claim to her.” Alec rose from the table despite his words. “I’ll find Bess to see to him.”

  Before Kieran could bark a scathing reply, Alec was already walking out the great hall. Mariel’s laughter drifted to where he sat, on the dais—alone. The feminine, melodic tinkle pulled his attention toward the couple. Mariel’s slender fingers brushed Colin’s forearm, and Kieran’s hand knotted into a hard fist. To those around them, their conversation did not appear out of the ordinary. From the way her eyes slanted in Colin’s direction to the subtle touches shared between them, Kieran knew better. He took a swig of whisky, his knuckles white against the stem of his goblet.

  Among his fellow clansmen, Mariel had changed from the hated outsider to the welcomed, honored guest, and from pressing him for his affection to falling prey to Colin’s charm.

  Grudgingly, he had to confess he had been impressed at her success with winning over his clan. It was a task not easily done. One presumed impossible for an Englishwoman.

  Several people had stopped to speak with her throughout the evening with genuine smiles on their faces. Even Innes. Old, impenetrable Innes had actually bid her good evening as she’d passed.

  Colin’s hand slid beneath the table and a telltale blush colored Mariel’s fair cheeks. Any sense of humor dissipated from Kieran’s.

  Where the hell was Alec with Bess?

  Mariel leaned forward so her breasts brushed Colin’s arm. Her lips were too close to Colin’s ear. Kieran did not know what she said, but judging from the look on his old friend’s face, he could damn well guess.

  His heavy chair slid against the fresh rushes on the floor and sent the aroma of hay and herbs wafting up to greet him. He stalked forward, muscles taut with anger.

  Colin glanced up at him with eyes red rimmed and bleary. He was as drunk as Kieran had ever seen him.

  “Kieran! Will ye have a drink with us?” Colin slurred.

  Mariel’s smile was brittle, and he could not help but notice she did not join Colin in extending the invite. The familiar scent of rose caught him off guard, bringing with it a surge of feelings and unwelcome memories: the sweetness of her mouth beneath his tongue, the heat of her body against his, and the whimpering moan of her release. Kieran’s hand clenched at his side.

  She had promised herself to him and yet here she sat with his best friend and rival. Colin slid his hand around Mariel’s waist and regarded Kieran. A silent indicator of his claim on Mariel.

  Colin was drunk indeed.

  Kieran’s fist slammed on the table with such force, Colin’s empty mug leapt up and clattered to the floor. “Get yer hand off her,” Kieran growled.

  Colin’s eyes went wide, and he shifted his hand away as instructed. Mariel opened her mouth, doubtless with some sharp tongued retort. She never got a chance to speak.

  “Ye will come with me to my study,” Kieran demanded.

  Her arms crossed defiantly over her chest

  “Now!” he barked and turned to leave. She would follow. Of that he had no doubt.

  • • •

  Mariel shifted her weight from one foot to the other and waited in tortured silence. She scanned the room for the tenth time in an effort to avoid the stormy rage glinting in Kieran’s black eyes. Several ledgers rested on the surface of a large desk that took up half of the room. Soft light glowed in metal sconces around the room, the subtle odor of oil thick and warm, but not unpleasant. Shelves of books lined the back wall and tempered the severity of the otherwise stark chamber.

  She returned her gaze to the man in front of her and found he stared at her, his face unreadable as usual. The room was quiet, still. It frayed her nerves. She locked her hands on her hips and glared at him. “What is the meaning of this, Kieran?”

  “What were ye doing with Colin?” His voice was unnaturally calm. If he meant it to cause her further unease, he’d succeeded.

  “We were talking.”

  Kieran narrowed his eyes. “Why Colin?”

  She arched her eyebrow. “You aren’t speaking to me. He is.”

  “What did ye speak about?”

  Mariel’s unease grew. Did he suspect her? “What are you getting at, Kieran?”

  “Dinna ye understand what ye do to me, Mariel?” His eyes flashed like chips of cold onyx in the soft golden light.

  “No, actually, I don’t.” It was not a lie. Never before had she required so much effort to keep a man’s attention.

  Kieran closed the distance between them with a single step so that the heat of his torso scorched her. The intensity of his gaze burned a path down her body. “Ye wear a dress like this and ye dinna know what ye do to me?” He caught her against him, and his hand glided down to the curve of her bottom. When he spoke again, his voice was deeper, more sensual. “Ye kiss me with blatant desire and ye dinna think I crave more?” His fierce expression softened and he leaned forward, nuzzling her neck. His lips moved against her ear. “Ye come apart in my arms and ye dinna think the image willna haunt me?” His breath was warm against her sensitive skin, tempting.

  Frustration knotted with the thrill of pleasure, and she backed away from the lure of his touch. “You refuse me time and again.” She tried to swallow her anger and failed. “You haven’t spoken to me in weeks, and yet you expect me to realize you still want me?”

  “Ye dinna understand.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “There is much ye dinna under
stand.”

  She searched his eyes, desperate to know his secrets, to obtain a trust she did not deserve. To end this before either of them would have to hurt more than they already would. “Make me understand.”

  He shook his head. “I canna.”

  Part of her was glad for his steadfast determination to keep his secrets, and yet the other part of her felt the hurried desperation of a ticking clock. Her time was running out.

  Mariel gave a heavy sigh, as if the deep breath would cleanse her chest of its mounting pain. He made her feel like a better person than she was, and he held a tenderness that warmed a corner of her soul she never knew existed. Yet his repeated rejection stung that newfound vulnerability. The walls closed around her. She could take no more of his excuses.

  She needed to get out of the room. Away from him lest she expose herself to more hurt.

  She pushed past him and headed for the door. “If you’ll excuse me, Colin is waiting.”

  An iron grasp locked onto the crook of her elbow. “Damn it, Mariel,” Kieran growled and spun her around to face him once more. “Ye belong to me.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. He wanted her. Mariel wrenched her arm from his hold but did not back down from the heat of his stare. “Then be a man and take what’s yours.”

  The words flew out of her mouth without calculated thought or pause, the challenge borne of passion. Kieran’s eyes darkened into pools of ink, and his muscles visibly tensed. He closed the distance she had put between them, his chest almost touching her face. His face hardened, his eyes flaring, and suddenly he resembled the fierce warrior he was. The flickering light of the fire danced shadows against his chiseled jawline, and, for the first time since she’d met him, Mariel felt the icy fingers of fear trickle down her spine.

  “What did ye say?” he growled.

  Mariel met his hard gaze, refusing to withdraw her challenge. “Take what’s yours, Kieran.”

  His breath brushed her face, the spicy scent made her hunger for the caress of his tongue against hers, and her heart pound with anticipation.

  He jerked her against him so her breasts pressed flat against the hardness of his chest. His hand caught her lower jaw and firmly forced her face up toward his. The rough calluses of his fingers rasped her cheek. His eyes burned into hers for one soul stopping moment before his lips crushed down on hers. His tongue slipped into her mouth as he pulled the length of her body against him.

  It was a kiss of insistence, demanding payment for services promised.

  It was a kiss of possession.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kieran slanted his lips over the silky warmth of Mariel’s mouth. Rage powered his hunger to an overwhelming pitch. She had challenged his manhood.

  He held her tight against him and urged her backward until he felt her bump against his desk. She claimed she wanted to be his.

  She arched against him and gave a low moan.

  His cock pulsed in time with the slow, rhythmic grinding of her hips until it strained between them. God, he never wanted a woman so badly.

  Restraint lingered in the recesses of his mind even while his hands glided across the cool silk of her gown, memorizing her shape. If he had her, she would stay on Skye.

  Her tongue stroked his, and her hands teased the flesh beneath the waistline of his plaid. If he had her, he would have to trust her.

  One sweep of his arm cleared the desk of its contents. He grasped her round bottom and slid her up onto the smooth desktop.

  His fingers raked up her naked legs, pushing her skirt to her hips. Her creamy thighs opened for him, and with one swipe of his finger, his decision was made.

  Mariel’s legs tightened around his hand and her breath came in shaky gasps. Gritting his teeth against the insistent throb of his cock, he rolled the pad of his thumb against the delicate little nub. Her cries echoed off the stone walls, and her hooded eyes sparkled with desire. His mouth fell upon her kiss-swollen lips once more, hungry to devour the sounds of her climax. She was so close to coming for him. The slightest touch and she would unravel in his arms.

  But not yet. She did not understand the pain she had put him through. The haunted nights of longing, craving the feel of her skin naked against him and the relief only she could provide. Nor did she understand the rage her flirtation with Colin roused in him.

  No, he would not let her off so easily.

  Kieran withdrew his hand despite her whimper of protest. Muscles taut with restraint, he pressed himself against her, letting her feel the force of his erection through his plaid. Her long, shapely legs wrapped around his waist, and her heels pressed into his buttocks.

  Her breasts heaved with the force of her labored breath, swelling lusciously above her gown. Unable to resist the temptation, Kieran tugged her bodice downward and groaned his victory as her breasts bounced free of their confines. He buried his face against the fullness of her bare bosom. His lips brushed the bud of her nipple and drew it deep within his mouth.

  Her hands skimmed his stomach, burning a path of uncontrollable desire down to his loins. Her fingers dipped inside his kilt and closed around him. The coolness of her grasp against the raging heat of his cock was an excruciating balm for the lust that had preoccupied him since they met. Kieran groaned at the intense pleasure of her touch before he gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away.

  “Enough,” he said, his voice terse. This was his game and he was not about to relinquish the power.

  “Please,” she murmured against his ear.

  “No yet,” he growled.

  His finger traced the slick cleft between her legs. Mariel moaned helplessly and trembled beneath him.

  He released her hand and lifted his plaid. His stomach knotted in anticipation, his body tight as a bowstring. He rubbed the blunt edge of his arousal against her slick core. God help him, there was no stopping now.

  This was what she wanted, nay demanded, and he would give it to her.

  With a savage push, he sheathed himself completely inside her tight, wet heat and froze.

  • • •

  Mariel gasped sharply as her maidenhead tore beneath Kieran’s powerful thrust. She thought she had prepared herself for the pain, and that she would be able to mask its existence, but the sting had been far more acute than she had expected. Desire melted away and left the ugly truth of reality in its stead.

  She had deceived him, forced him to believe she was someone she was not. Thinking she could play the part when necessary. His body was taut beneath her fingertips, every muscle locked as he cursed low under his breath. He looked down at her, his black eyes wild.

  “Ye were a maiden?” he asked incredulously.

  She wanted to shrink under his gaze, cover her breasts, and hide away from him. Not trusting herself to speak, she gave a short nod.

  He pulled out of her, the slight movement causing a wave of unwanted pleasure to roll through her. Evidence of her virginity smeared across his hardened phallus, glistening like a flag of shame before he covered himself with his kilt.

  “Damn it, Mariel!” His fist slammed into the shelf beside him. A book fell to the floor with a hollow thud and broke the silence following his outburst. “Why did ye lie to me?” He turned his accusing stare on her.

  She pulled her bodice over her exposed breasts and pushed off the desk onto shaky legs. Her skirt fell like a heavy curtain, shielding her disgrace from view.

  “I didn’t lie. You assumed,” she hissed. The need to defend herself overwhelmed the burn of humiliation.

  “Ye kept this secret from me, and ye’re the one who is angry?” he roared, his accent thick with fury.

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “You don’t know a damned thing about me, Kieran MacDonald. You don’t know the life I have lived or what I’ve had to do to survive. You know nothing. You don’t know what I sacrificed to keep my virginity, saving it like some…some…” She faltered. Unease overwhelmed the humiliated rage coursing through her. Too much had been said already.


  She shoved past him, and this time he did not stop her as she wrenched the door open and fled into the hall. The soles of her shoes tapped against the stone floor, a slow steady rhythm that called attention to the erratic beat of her heart. Her vision blurred and turned the hall into a smear of grays as she blindly made her way to her room. She did not stop until she had the door bolted behind her, and she lay upon the bed with her cheeks pressed into the pillow. The cool surface soothed the heat of her face and helped clear her head enough to think.

  Emotions raced through her, filling her with sorrow, shame, and the sad reality she had been too stubborn to admit. She was falling in love with Kieran MacDonald, the very man she had been sent to betray. A man of honor and value; one she had begun to look up to. And the more she learned about him, the more she respected him. He was everything she had wanted in her youth and everything she did not deserve now.

  How foolish she had been for guarding her maidenhead as if it held any worth. The cost of keeping it had been higher than anticipated, and Jack was still paying the price. She had always resisted the ridiculous sums offered to her under the assumption that perhaps someday she could choose the man to give it to. A foolish girlhood notion a woman should have known better than to believe.

  Mariel curled into a ball in the center of the bed. If Kieran shunned her, her options would be limited. The weight of Aaron’s threat hung on her conscience and helpless tears pooled under the pillow beneath her cheek.

  • • •

  That next morning, Mariel waited for Kieran to rise and quietly followed him to the stables. It was perhaps a desperate move on her part, taking a chance that he might lead her where she needed to go, but she would rather face the chill of the dark morning than a bed where she tossed and turned in sleepless angst.