by Monica Burns
When she faced him again, another vicious blow slammed into him at the emotions flitting across her lovely features. The tenderness, acceptance, and growing desire he saw on her face made his heart slam into his chest. Unshed tears had left her eyes sparkling in the soft glow of lamplight that bathed her sensual, intoxicating curves.
She closed the distance between them to take his hand and pull him toward the bed. With a gentle push she forced him to sit down before she knelt at his feet. Silently, she removed the serviceable military shoes he'd chosen to wear rather than the traditional ghillies brogues. The oil lamp's light cast a soft glow over her shoulders and back as she worked, and he reached out to stroke the brown silk of her hair.
At his touch, she looked up to meet his gaze then lowered her head to kiss the inside of his knee as her hands slid up under his kilt and over his thighs. The caress sent a thunderbolt pounding its way into every inch of his body. It made him ache for her to take him in hand. The harsh breath he sucked into his lungs made her look up again, and a sultry smile curved her lips. Her gaze remained locked with his while her soft fingertips trailed a lazy, torturous path away from his cock.
Denied the feel of her hand wrapped around him, disappointment tugged a growl from deep within his throat, and her eyes darkened with desire. A renewed hunger for her tightened every muscle in his body, and he stood up in a sharp moment that made her gasp in surprise. With a hard tug of his only hand, he pulled her to her feet then captured her mouth in a hard kiss.
Stark need speared its way into him, and his mouth didn't leave hers as he fumbled to remove the sporran from his waist. As it fell to the floor, he struggled with the buckles and the leather strips holding his kilt in place. Her mouth slid downward across his jaw to his throat, while her hands brushed across his to help him remove the plaid.
Seconds later, the kilt dropped to cover his sporran, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. The hunger crashing its way through him was a palpable sensation hammering its way into his body as they tumbled down onto the mattress. The fragrance of her filled his nostrils as he rolled her onto her back and pinned her beneath him. With his only hand pressing into the mattress, he pushed himself upward to stare down at her for a moment.
Desire glowed on her heart-shaped face, and flecks of gold shimmered in her beautiful hazel eyes. As her gaze locked with his, a gentle hand caressed his chest before it moved downward. Without hesitating, he quickly lowered his body to trap her hand between them. Puzzlement and frustration darkened her eyes at her inability to reach his cock. The small pout of vexation crossing her features tugged a small smile to his lips.
Slowly, he lowered his head to brush his mouth across her satin-smooth shoulder. In response, she shifted her body in an obvious effort to free her hand. Despite his body's demand to assuage its hunger, he pressed his body deeper into hers. She was far to accustomed to getting her way. He wanted her to feel the same intense longing he'd experienced every night since he'd carried her off the moors.
He wanted to see her eyes flare with a blazing need for his body to conquer hers. A small whisper of frustrated desire floated above his head as he nibbled his way downward. The sound announced the same need for satisfaction that was consuming him. Once more she tried to escape his restraint, and he thwarted her efforts by pressing her even deeper into the mattress.
Honey could not taste sweeter than the silky warmth of her skin, and he savored her as one would a fine wine. Another sound of protest whispered in his ears. This time, the sound held the pitched notes of hunger and need. He ignored it and continued to work his way down to the full, lushness of her breast.
The moment his lips reached the hard tip of her breast she inhaled a sharp breath. Anticipation echoed in the soft gasp, and she arched her body upward in a silent demand for him to take her into his mouth. Ignoring the unspoken plea, he turned his attention to the indentation between her breasts. With her free hand and a whimper of need, she tried to force him to tend to her breast.
He resisted for a brief moment, before allowing her to guide him toward the rigid peak. His tongue flicked out to swirl around the hard tip of her, and she released a sigh of pleasure. A second later, he bit down on the swollen nipple. Her cry of shock filled his ears as she jerked beneath him in obvious surprise.
Flicking his tongue out, he soothed her sensitive flesh then bit down on the hard tip again. This time her cry was one of pleasure as her body writhed beneath him. Soft fingers dug into his shoulders as he soothed her sensitive flesh while quiet feminine pants of excitement filled the air
"Oh, please." The hunger and passion in her voice tightened his cock as his body responded to the soft plea.
"Please what, mo leannan?" he rasped as he raised his head to look up at her. Passion burned in her gaze as a soft hand cupped his cheek.
"I want you. I want to be a part of you."
The husky words were a plea and sweet invitation that pushed him over the edge. He captured her mouth in a hard kiss and shifted his body against hers. With a powerful thrust he buried himself inside her, smothering her cry of pleasure. He didn't move for a long moment as he savored the slick heat of her.
As their tongues tangled and swirled in a fiery dance of passion, he slowly increased the pace of his steady thrusts. Each time he retreated, her muscles contracted around him like a hot vise. It was a sharp pleasure that pounded at his body. With every stroke, her hips rose upward to meet his in perfect unison. Their bodies rocked against each other with a passion that was spiraling out of control, and he lost himself in the essence of her.
The delicious, subtle scent of rose petals filled his nostrils, while the warm silk of her skin against his ignited a fiery need in the depths of his soul. Desire blinded him to everything but the hunger she aroused in him. It was as if he'd breathed her into every cell in his body, and she was a part of him. A moan poured out of her, and her body jerked hard against him while her muscles tightened around his cock.
In a sudden onslaught of pleasure, her spasms gripped and pulled at him until every part of him was demanding a release. Another hard shudder rippled through her as she arched upward into him with a wild cry. Frozen against him for a brief moment, the white-hot heat of her contractions around him drove him to pump his body into hers at a blistering speed. A strong wave of pleasure crashed over him dragging him under until he was blindly racing toward an abyss unlike anything he'd ever known. With one last thrust he went rigid against her softness, and with a shout, he throbbed hard inside her. The ragged sound of her breathing echoed in his ears as he slowly lowered his body down onto hers. Long eyelashes rested on her flushed cheeks as her eyes remained closed. Slowly, her breathing became quiet, rhythmic breaths, and the tremors vibrating into his body slowly abated.
Ewan's gaze drifted down to her full mouth, and he brushed his lips over hers in a tender kiss. A soft murmur drifted out of her, and as he lifted his head, her eyes fluttered open. The satiated expression in her gaze took his breath away as a dreamy smile curved her mouth.
"That was wonderful," she whispered as she cupped his face with her hands.
Something about the way she looked at him made his heart slam into his chest. How would he ever be able to let her go when the time came? The question made a knot form in his throat, and he slowly rolled off of her. It was an inevitable outcome, there was little he had to offer her.
Silence filled the air between them for several moments before Louisa curled up into his side, her head settling in the nook between his chest and the stump of his arm. Once again, he was startled by her acceptance of him. It was as if his missing arm were the most natural thing in the world.
As he marveled at how easily she ignored his injuries, the softness of her lips against his chest made him draw in a sharp breath. His reaction resulted in a smothered laugh whispering against his skin like a kitten purring with satisfaction.
"What do you find so amusing, lass?"
"Nothing," she murmured with d
istinct amusement.
The denial made him shift his upper body so he could stare down at her. Mischief sparkled in her eyes as her gaze locked with his and her lips found their way to his nipple. He watched her pink tongue flick out to swirl around his flesh. The moment she abraded the nipple with her teeth, he released a growl of pleasure. An impish expression on her sweet face, she settled back down into the mattress at his side.
"I simply like hearing how you react to my touch."
"You, are a minx, mo leannan."
A chuckle rolled out of him as he found it impossible to resist the sleepy smile tilting her lips. Her hand covered her mouth as she yawned then closed her eyes and burrowed her body into his.
"I like it when you call me mo leannan," she murmured as another yawn parted her lips.
The soft words sent a wave of emotion crashing over him. For the first time since he'd awoken without an arm or eye, he felt whole. His heart thundered in his chest at the realization, and he turned his head slightly to look down at Louisa. She was only half-awake, and as he reached across his chest to brush a lock of hair off her cheek, she uttered a quiet sigh of contentment. The sound stole all the air from his lungs, and he struggled to breathe as he realized how much he wanted every night to end like this—with Louisa curled up against him like a kitten.
In the silence of the room, her slow steady breathing indicated she'd fallen asleep. For a long time, he stared down at her as his thoughts careened around in his head like the bullets that had whizzed past his head in battle. He'd questioned his sanity the day he'd agreed to let Louisa stay and be Ross's governess. That he'd not followed his instincts to send her away was only the first of many mistakes he'd made where she was concerned.
What was he supposed to do now? Ewan suppressed a groan as he closed his eyes. Until this moment, he hadn't realized he was falling off a cliff where Louisa Morehouse was concerned. The fact that he was hanging onto the face of that precipice by little more than sheer willpower scared the hell out of him.
Chapter 14
A quiet sound penetrated Ewan's sleep, and he was instantly awake. The mantle clock chimed softly, and he blew out a harsh breath as he recognized the harmless sound. In the Sudan, the prospect of being slaughtered in his sleep had been a constant threat and fear. Despite the stillness and deceptive peaceful nature of the desert, his survival instincts had jolted him awake at least once a night, sometimes more. The habit had saved his life on several occasions.
While the only battles he fought now were with his mother, the sights and sounds of the battlefield stalked his dreams every night. There was no reprieve from the blood and death that made him jerk upright in bed with his heart pounding viciously in his chest. The screams of dying men still rang in his ears as he slept. He'd not even been spared the agony of his own suffering at the hand of an enemy's sword.
The doctors in the hospital had said the nightmares would eventually fade, but they'd been wrong. The blood-curdling cries of the enemy still taunted him in his sleep. He would never be free of the hellish dreams. With resignation he closed the only eye he still possessed before his muscles tightened with a violent jerk.
With a sharp twist of his head, he stared down at the woman beside him in stunned in amazement. For the first time since being carried off the battlefield he hadn't been woken up by a nightmare. It had been the quiet sound of a clock, not a horrific dream or the terrible memory of waking up in a medical tent no longer a whole man.
Beside him, Louisa murmured something incoherent before she turned over in her sleep with her body still pressed into his. It was the first time since he'd gone to the Sudan that he'd slept peacefully. If nightmares had haunted his sleep, he couldn't remember them. Still in disbelief, his gaze slid over the soft curve of Louisa's back and bottom pressed snugly against him. In the space of only a few weeks, she'd changed his life in ways he'd never dreamed possible.
He reached over and pulled a lock of silky brown hair off her cheek and traced a light path across her soft skin with his fingers. Another soft murmur drifted out of her as she shifted her position again. The warmth of her lush curves pressing even deeper into his side created a tidal wave of emotion crashing over him. It was a revelation that he immediately and viciously rejected as truth.
Despite his effort, the strength of the emotion became an invisible vise that wrapped its way around his chest and constricted his breathing. Ewan slowly laid back into his pillow to stare up at the ceiling. He would never be able to express his feelings aloud. Louisa deserved better than a man as damaged and broken as he was.
In the back of his head a voice shouted a reminder as to how she'd gently forced him to bare his body and soul to her a short time ago. A wild cackle followed the reminder as another voice jeered at him for refusing to admit the real reason he would never confess his feelings for Louisa to her or anyone else. The taunt made his jaw harden as the word coward echoed in his head.
He wasn't afraid to confront anything. Fear was a companion he'd lived with closely for years. He'd faced the horrors of battle and being maimed. He would survive when Louisa was gone, just as he'd survived his childhood. The voice mocked him again, but he ignored it. The sound of the clock chiming alerted him to the fact that it was almost time for the household staff to rise.
Even despite the emotional war waging inside him, he was still loathe to leave Louisa's side. She was like an oasis in the desert, but if he delayed any longer he'd endanger her reputation. It would also give his mother the ability to humiliate Louisa with scathing disapproval. Ewan winced at the thought, and carefully slid away from Louisa to search for his clothes. Although low on fuel, the oil lamp's light combined with that of the fire in the hearth made it easy to find his clothes.
He strapped on his mechanical arm first and released a soft grunt of irritation as he struggled into his shirt. As usual, he found the artificial appendage more of a hindrance than help. With his shirt finally in place, he picked his kilt up from the floor and secured it between his metal fingers. It was relatively easy to wrap the garment around his waist, but the leather tabs and buckles that held the plaid in place was a different matter altogether.
Pushing a leather tab through a slit and into its buckle would not be a challenge if he had both his hands, but every time the kilt moved in his metal fingers, he had to adjust the material and begin anew. Frustration surged inside him as he fumbled with the kilt fasteners for several minutes before he pushed the last leather tab into its buckle.
The moment the tab was secured, he grunted softly with relief. It took him almost another half hour longer to finish dressing himself, and when he was dressed, he released a harsh breath of satisfaction at the accomplishment. A soft sound whispered through the air, and he jerked his head toward the bed to see Louisa was still sleeping soundly. With a twist of his lips, he dismissed the noise and took a step toward the bedroom door when he heard the hushed sound again.
Ewan jerked his head toward the secret door Robert the Bruce had supposedly escaped through. For a brief moment, he frowned in puzzlement at the bulky chest blocking the door. It hadn't been there when he was caring for Louisa the night he'd found her on the moors. A second later he saw the furniture move slightly as someone in the hidden passageway pushed on the secret door.
Deep inside he knew who was on the other side of the door, but he prayed it was one of the boys. Quickly crossing the floor, his heart slammed into his chest as he saw short, stubby fingers wrapped around the edge of the door as Gilbert tried to leverage his weight against the secret panel.
"Go back to your room, Gilbert," he growled softly as he gave his brother's fingers a vicious slap.
A soft howl of pain and frustration escaped the man on the other side of the panel, but after a few seconds, Ewan heard his brother shuffling away. Worried the incident might have awoken Louisa, he glanced over his shoulder. Relief swept through him at the sight of her curled up beneath the covers he'd tucked around her.
Quietly clo
sing the panel leading into the hidden passageway, he repositioned the chest so it blocked the secret door. Louisa had clearly moved the heavy furniture into place herself. If anyone else had moved it, or even assisted her, McCallum would have mentioned it. As much as he wanted to deny his suspicions, he could think of only one reason why Louisa had blocked the door. Gilbert had tried to enter her room once before.
He should have told Louisa about his brother, but had deemed it unnecessary as he'd believed Gilbert was well-supervised and restricted from roaming the keep. Although his brother's presence in the Keep wasn't a closely guarded secret, his mother and aunt had kept Gilbert hidden away from prying eyes for so long, people had forgotten about him.
Longtime retainers, such as McCallum knew about Gilbert, but newcomers to the household had only heard tales. Even Ross seemed to be unaware of Gilbert's existence, or at least the boy hadn't mentioned him to anyone. The Scots were a superstitious people, and if any of the staff ran into Gilbert, they would declare his brother a monster or the devil incarnate. Wild tales, not to mention hysterical maidservants, had been incentive enough to continue the practice of keeping his brother in isolation as his mother and aunt had done for years.
He blew out a harsh noise of regret and self-disgust. Louisa was relatively fearless, and for her to block the Bruce's secret door indicated she'd been frightened. The knowledge troubled him deeply. Why the devil hadn't she come to him? He could have explained things and instructed McCallum to seal the Bruce's panel to keep her safe.
While McCallum and Finn had closed off all the entrances to the corridors they could find in Gilbert's suites of rooms, it didn't surprise Ewan that one had been missed. It wasn't unusual for a structure as old and large as the Keep to have numerous secret entrances to the dark passages hidden behind it's walls. As the structure had been rebuilt and expanded over generations, new entrances and passages would have been built and old ones forgotten.