Chapter Eight
Angus had thought being between Lillianna’s tempting thighs and having her admit she thought him pleasing was the greatest temptation he would ever face, but he had been very wrong. As darkness descended to welcome night, Lillianna was situated between his legs with her bottom pressed against his stiff cock, his arm secured under her heavy, lush breasts to hold her in place. It was all he could do to clench his teeth against the painful desire she had lit in him.
Each time the horse’s hooves jostled her and her body rubbed against his, he got a clear picture of her on her back, thick hair trailing over her bare shoulders and breasts, and her thighs open to him. She was inviting him to partake of the sweetness he knew would be found in her arms. Never had lust so besieged him as it did now. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, but to take Lillianna would be far more than a simple tumble in the hay. He could not allow himself to venture down that lane.
“When will we halt?” Grant asked from the horse to Angus’s right.
They had made very good progress since they had left the inn shortly after Lillianna had eaten. Angus had fashioned a blanket and his plaid over his horse to make the riding softer for her; between that and his insisting she lean against his chest and completely relax, he felt confident that her skin was not being chafed much, but the personal price had been high. His desire to give in to the temptation she presented was great, and in this moment, he needed a reprieve.
“We halt now,” he replied, looking toward the thick woods. He’d wanted to reach the village of Northampton so that Lillianna would have a soft bed and would not be subjected to the cold, but tonight, this would have to do.
“Having trouble fighting yer desire for the lass, are ye?” Grant asked in a teasing tone.
“Aye,” Angus said, not bothering to deny it. Lillianna was sound asleep, and Grant obviously could see the struggle on his face.
“Surely ye ken the best way to slate yer desire is to bed the lass? Ye’ll nae want her near as much once ye’ve had her. Simply woo her into yer arms.”
Likely Grant was correct that joining with Lillianna would slacken his desire for her, but Lillianna was not the sort of lass to be used. “It’s more complicated than that,” Angus said.
“Aye, I ken. My brother told me long ago that ye dunnae allow lasses close to ye. He said one betrayed ye once, which caused ye to do something that harmed yer clan and ye have nae ever allowed a lass close since. Is that the reason ye are nae wed?”
Angus would ring Fraser’s neck when next he saw him for speaking of Angus’s personal matters to others, not to mention that Fraser was wrong. The only thing keeping Angus from becoming truly angry with Fraser was that his friend had most certainly spoken of it years before, as most of his friends had long quit mentioning his refusal to become entangled with any of the lovely lasses he joined with.
“Yer brother did nae have his information correct.”
“Oh nay? So ye did nae do something to harm yer clan?” Grant asked, slowing his horse as Angus did.
“Aye, I did,” Angus growled, unwilling to hide his guilt like a coward.
“Then what information did my brother have wrong?” Grant asked.
“I am nae wed because I dunnae need the distraction.” He clamped his jaw shut, unwilling to say more.
Grant frowned. “Why would a wife be a distraction? Unless ye fear that ye are weak and will repeat the mistake of yer past?”
“I’m done talking of this,” Angus said, his guilt about the past loud within his head.
Grant threw up his hands. “We’ll nae speak of it any more. I’ll just say that my father did nae trust himself, and he was a weaker ruler for it. Simply trust that ye are stronger and wiser than in yer youth, and ye will be.”
“Ye ken when ye say ‘I’ll just say’ that ye are still speaking of something we just agreed nae to.”
“Aye,” Grant replied with a laugh. “I ken it. I learned that trick from my brother.”
Angus liked Grant. Hell, he even admired the man. He clearly cared for his brother—Grant had almost idolized Fraser—but when Grant truly had thought that Fraser was betraying the Scottish cause, he had turned from him. That had taken bravery. Angus was glad the rift between the brothers could soon be mended, but the good feelings did not outweigh one important thing. “If ye ever suggest I’m weak again, we will fight.”
“Then dunnae be weak,” Grant replied, and before Angus could reply, Lillianna started screaming.
“Are ye all right?” Angus asked as he kneeled beside Lillianna at the campfire where she was tending the fire to cook the rabbit Angus had caught. She startled, having been lost in the memory of her mother’s death and burial. No one had attended the burial but her and the priest. Her mother had lived separate from her father and Lillianna by his will and force, and though she had been kept in an isolated castle almost like a prisoner, just without a dungeon, there had been people there she could have become friends with, but her mother had confessed to being afraid—afraid to make friends, afraid to allow any sort of love in because she’d said if she did, mayhap she’d succumb to loving a man again, and then history would repeat itself.
In her memory, her mother’s face in the casket had disappeared and it had become Lillianna’s. She was being buried, and there was no one to put her in the ground, or cry for her, or remember her. There was not even a child because she’d never had love or a husband. Unexpected doubt about her decisions for the future besieged her. Was she doing the right thing? Yes, of course she was! It was just fear stirring these questions, nothing more.
“Lillianna?” A gentle touch to her arm made her jerk.
“I’m fine,” she said, turning the stick to evenly cook the rabbit.
Angus sat on the log beside her, his presence overwhelming her as it always did, but it was comforting. That in and of itself worried her. She was developing an attachment to Angus, and startlingly fast. She stole a sideways glance at him and found him staring straight ahead into the fire. The flames cast shadows across his face, and she could just make out his concerned expression and the lines of weariness around his eyes. He’d held her the entire day as they rode to ensure that she did not have to clench her legs to stay on the horse. Gratitude swelled in her throat, as did a longing to learn this man who she was traveling with. She thought about it for a moment, silenced the warning in her head, and opened her mouth to speak, but Angus spoke first.
“Where did ye learn all those bawdy words ye yelled at me?” he asked.
She felt her jaw fall open. “I do not use bawdy words! And when did I yell at you?”
“When ye were in the grips of the fever, and ye do use bawdy words. So”—he speared her with his unwavering gaze—“where did ye learn them?”
“My father,” she said, unsure why she would reveal such an embarrassing thing, except that she oddly felt that she could confide in Angus and he would not think less of her.
“He taught them to ye?” Angus asked, frowning.
“What? No!” She laughed at the mental picture of her father teaching her bawdy words. “My father never taught me anything except to fear him,” she blurted. “He would yell such things at me when I irritated him, so…” She shrugged. “I learned the words.”
“Ah, lass,” Angus said, his sorrow for her reaching out across the small distance between them and caressing her like a reassuring touch. “Ye dunnae have to fear yer father ever again.”
“I hope not.” Her mind turned that statement over. “I don’t think he’d ever come for me. But my uncle…” She shuddered. “If he discovers where I have fled to, he will likely come. What if the MacLeods won’t protect me? They don’t even know me.”
“Ye’re kin. Besides that, ye will likely meet a man and take him as husband, and he will protect ye.”
She shook her head. “I’ll not take a husband.”
“Dunnae be daft.”
She feared wedding and giving a man control over her. Especially if the man duped her, and she thought she was wedding a good, honorable man. And then she found herself in love only to discover the man’s true nature. And say the man was good and honorable, she feared she would naturally grow close to the man and fall in love, and then her powers would come out and the potential for the man to change and wish to use her would be there. Such a thing would destroy her.
No, wedding was not for her.
“A woman needs a husband to watch over her,” Angus said.
“I’ll do that myself. You’re going to teach me, remember?”
“Aye, but ye must take a husband. Ye are a gentle creature. I can teach ye things, but it will nae ever make ye truly a match against a fierce warrior. What I can show ye would allow ye time to possibly escape, but ye must have someone to flee to.”
“Well, then I shall hope the MacLeods grow very fond of me and will do all in their power to protect me.”
Angus grunted. “I’m certain the MacLeod laird will extend his protection to ye, but there is protection born of fondness and obligation and then there is protection born of love.”
His way of thinking fascinated her, and as it would happen, she agreed. She’d seen her mother sacrifice herself to shield Lillianna, and she’d watched her father give her protection only because he wished to use her. When she no longer seemed useful, he no longer felt that obligation. What sort of obligation would the MacLeods feel to her? Would it be strong enough that they would protect her, endangering their own wives, daughters, and sons if her father or uncle ever came for her?
“What do you suppose the difference is?” she asked, wishing to hear more.
He scrubbed a hand across his face as he stared into the fire. “Well…” He turned to her, and flames danced in the depths of his eyes. “Protection born of fondness and obligation is nae as strong. When ye love someone, ye will sacrifice yerself to protect them. Ye will put their welfare above all others’.”
His words tightened her chest almost painfully. She had to swallow past her desire to be enfolded in such protection and speak. “And someday you will protect a wife that way?”
“Nay.”
His quick, vehement answer surprised her. “You don’t wish for a wife?”
“Nay, I dunnae.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I dunnae wish for entanglements.”
“From anyone?” she asked, probing.
“From any woman,” he clarified.
Her chest squeezed at his words. “Why is that?” she asked gently, sensing a hurt in him.
“When a woman takes yer heart, she takes yer good sense, as well. I’ll keep my good sense, thank ye verra much.”
“You sound as if you speak from experience,” she ventured, shocked that she was being so bold.
“I do,” he said, his voice almost raw with emotion.
She wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand, so instead, she fisted her own. “Mayhap you gave your heart to the wrong woman,” she blurted, thinking that it would be a shame if this man never loved again.
“Of course I did,” he said with a chuckle. “But that’s the problem as I see it: when ye have been robbed of yer good sense, ye dunnae see that ye are making a bad choice.”
“Well,” she said quickly as Grant approached, “I’m certain there are signs. You must simply watch for them. A bad person cannot hide their true nature all the time.”
“I have nae ever thought of it that way,” he said reluctantly.
Feeling especially bold, she said, “I told you I had worth. I have just given you a new way to contemplate your past to help decide your future.”
His hand caught hers and snatched the breath from her lungs. His warm fingers circled all the way around her hand easily, and he squeezed her gently. “Ye dunnae need to prove ye have worth, lass. I see it.”
“Am I interrupting something here?” the man Grant asked boisterously as he kneeled across from them.
Lillianna went to pull her hand away from Angus at the same time he did. They exchanged a look, which to Lillianna, ridiculously felt rather like two children caught being naughty.
“Nay,” Angus responded. “I was just telling Lillianna about the MacLeod clan.”
She could not say why precisely, but Angus’s words made her feel suddenly melancholy.
Grant nodded. “The MacLeod laird is a good man. He’ll be kind to ye, and I’m certain he will find ye a husband right away.”
Angus watched Lillianna’s face. Grant’s statement made her look downright terrified. He didn’t stop Grant from talking because Angus was curious why she did not wish for a husband. Had she been hurt by a man before? The idea of a man harming her physically or mentally made anger heat his blood. Her father and uncle were already on the list of men that would pay for hurting her, and he’d be more than glad to add the name of the man who had wronged her.
God’s teeth. Perhaps a man had seduced her and stolen her innocence, so she felt she could not marry? That would go a long way in explaining why she felt unworthy. The notion filled him with rage. “Lillianna,” he interrupted Grant with no notion of what the man had been saying. “Were ye seduced, lass?”
“What?” Her jaw dropped open. “No!”
Angus sagged with relief. “Then why in God’s name do ye nae wish to marry?”
She looked suddenly like a deer caught in a trap. “I have my reasons,” she said quietly, “and they are private.” Her tone went steely, and it made him want to grin. Lillianna had more grit than five Highlanders.
“Ye’ll need to marry, lass,” Grant said gently.
“Dunnae bother,” Angus grumbled, irritated though he knew he had no right to be, that she would not share her reason with him. “I already tried to convince her to marry, and the lass is foolishly stubborn.”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “I find it rather hypocritical that you insist I should wed when you have no intention of doing so yourself.”
“I’m a man; ’tis different. I dunnae need someone to protect me.” Not to mention he did not need the distraction of a wife, though Grant’s words from earlier surfaced in his mind. Mayhap a wife would not necessarily be a distraction. Just because he wed did not mean he’d need to allow soft emotions. It was something to consider.
“I do not need someone to protect me, either!” Lillianna insisted.
Grant quit skinning the rabbit and frowned at Angus. “The lass is wrong. She must have a husband to protect her.”
“Aye, I ken it, but she thinks she will protect herself.”
“You do both recall I’m sitting here, don’t you?”
Angus purposely ignored her, hoping if he could not directly sway her thinking, then perhaps this conversation could show her the importance of a husband. As Grant did not even blink an eye at Lillianna’s words, Angus suspected the man had come to the same conclusion, which made Angus like him even more.
“What do ye suppose made the lass think she could protect herself?” Grant asked.
From the corner of Angus’s eye, he saw Lillianna’s lovely eyes narrow with irritation. “I suppose ’twas my unthinking words,” he replied to Grant, having to fight the urge to chuckle. Lillianna was a stunning woman, and as her irritation mounted, she was quickly becoming a sight to behold. Her flashing eyes and head tilted in challenge made him want to grab her and kiss her and see if he could melt her anger. He was not even involved with the lass and already she was making him a clot-heid.
“What did ye say?” Grant demanded, his words clipped, but Angus saw the briefest hint of a smile before it disappeared.
“I told her I’d teach her to protect herself, but that she would nae be a match for a fierce warrior.”
“Aye, none. And a pretty lass like her will nae last long in the Highlands before a Scot decides he wants to marry her and simply takes her and makes her his.”
Angus stilled, all his humor vanishing in a flash. Grant was right. Women were forced to marry against their wills far too often. There would likely be a man, even among the MacLeods, who would do such a thing when faced with a beautiful lass like Lillianna. The time for kidding was over. “Ye must take a husband immediately so it will at least be yer choice.”
“I thank you for your concern,” Lillianna said rising, her tone stiff, “but I will not take a husband.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she spoke again. “Even if I did wish to take a husband, as you say—which I most adamantly do not—there are no men to be taken on this journey.”
“I’m available,” Grant said, standing swiftly and capturing Lillianna’s hand in his. Angus sat rigid. What in God’s teeth was Grant doing? He glared at the man and decided he disliked him immensely. When Grant brought Lillianna’s hand to his lips and kissed her delicate skin, skin that Angus happened to know felt like silk and was so creamy one could see the faint traces of her veins underneath, he had an intense desire to pummel Grant into the dirt.
“That’s very kind of you, Grant, especially since we really do not know each other.”
Angus surprised himself by exhaling at Lillianna’s words, and he must have done so loudly because both Lillianna and Grant looked toward him. Lillianna’s brow was furrowed, but Grant smirked at him. Angus clenched his fists and pictured punching that smile from Grant’s face. His growing desire for the lass was making him think illogically.
“Let me speak, Lillianna,” Grant said.
“The lady did nae give ye leave to call her by her given name,” Angus bit out.
Grant grinned at Angus, then at Lillianna, and the devil of a Scot did not release her hand. “Angus has a point. Will ye give me leave to call ye Lillianna? If we are to be wed—”
“She’s nae going to wed ye!” Angus roared, jumped up, and shoved his way between them. A knowing, almost smug, expression settled on Grant’s face. Lillianna gaped at Angus, and he could feel the slow burn of embarrassment from his neck to his ears.
“And why nae?” Grant demanded, trying to step around Angus to get to Lillianna, Angus was certain, so he blocked the man with a forearm to his chest.
“Because,” Angus growled, “the lass told ye she dunnae wish to marry!”
“But ye agreed that she ought to,” Grant said, which annoyed the devil out of Angus and caused his temper to snap.
“I’ve changed my mind, and if ye dunnae cease pestering Lillianna, I’ll hit ye where that smirk is.”
Grant had the bollocks to grin at Angus, and Angus knew in that instant the man had pushed him into showing that he had some sort of affection for Lillianna. Damn the Scot.
“Gentlemen,” Lillianna said, her tone exasperated. “Please do not fight over this. Grant, Angus is quite right. You are sweet to offer, but I have no wish for a husband. But you may—” she gave Angus a stern look that reminded him of one his mother use to give him when she would lecture him “—call me Lillianna. If we are to travel together and face danger together, you may certainly call me by my Christian name.”
“I’ll protect ye from danger,” both men said at the same time. Angus glared at Grant, and Grant winked at Lillianna, who giggled unexpectedly. The musical, joyous sound made Angus’s chest squeeze mercilessly.
“I appreciate the protection from both of you. Tomorrow, Angus”—she looked at him once more—“if there is time, would you show me one move with the dagger before we ride?”
“Aye,” he said gruffly. “I’ll make the time.”
“Excellent.” She grinned, and he had the wish to press his mouth to hers. God above, the woman truly was making him daft. “I’m going to retire,” she said. “I’m weary and not at all hungry.”
Angus frowned, stepped toward her, and set his palm to her forehead. “Ye’re nae hot with fever. Are ye certain ye dunnae wish to eat?”
She nodded and tapped his hand, and he blinked, realizing he’d not moved it. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her skin, the warmth of her forehead tingling his fingers.
“But ye spent all that time cooking,” Grant protested.
“I did it for the two of you. I knew you’d be hungry.”
She started to turn, and as she did, Angus asked, “Shall I make ye a pallet?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m quite capable. I’ll just be right beyond the trees where I may obtain privacy.”
Angus started to protest, but then he recalled his sisters and their insistence that women liked privacy for things such as relieving themselves, so he clamped his jaw shut and nodded. He’d check on her in a bit, but he suspected if he admitted that, she’d argue with him. He’d learned with his sisters that sometimes it was easier just to do what he knew was best and not tell them. If they wanted to argue after the fact, he could simply walk away.
After Lillianna departed, Grant and Angus sat down to eat. With a mouthful of rabbit, Grant said, “Any woman who would cook for a man when she is nae hungry is a good woman. A woman that a man could join himself to. A woman who—”
“Shut up,” Angus snapped, not because he thought Grant was wrong, but because he thought Grant was right.