Chapter 2
The stubborn lass hadnt said a word all night, not since hed ignored her protests and set her atop his horse. She would ride with him. Where he could keep his eye on her.
Lachlan Maclean, Chief of Coll, had no doubt that it was Flora MacLeod. The bonniest heiress in Scotland. The Holyrood hellion. Take your pick. No matter the nickname, she was the most gossiped-about woman at court. A renowned beauty who left a path of broken hearts in her troublemaking wake.
Well, shed definitely lived up to her reputation in temperamenthe had the marks on his face and a gaping hole in his side to prove it. She was aptly named. Flora. The ancient Roman goddess of flowers and spring. She was a flower all right. A beautiful rose with the thorns to match.
Aye, she was a beauty. With a strong family resemblance to the MacLeods, thankfully, and not to the Maclean of Duart. Delicate oval face, wide blue eyes, tiny pert nose, lush red lips, and long silky golden hair. With a body
Hell, with a body built for a mans pleasure.
His men might not have seen through the dirt and sackcloth, but hed had a better perspective. A much better perspective. He hadnt meant to land on top of her, but hed lunged, shed lost her footing, and momentum had carried them both forward.
Focused on the task at hand, namely making sure she was not hiding another dirk, he hadnt realized he was frightening her until shed raked her fingers across his face. Ravishment had been the furthest thing from his mind. Had been. Until all of a sudden hed become very aware of every well-curved inch of her. For a moment, with that sweet red mouth merely inches away and those luscious breasts straining against him, hed been tempted to taste the spoils. Hell, he would have had to be a bloody eunuch not to be at least tempted.
And the memory of that incredible body writhing underneath him was brought back full force every time her soft bottom nudged against his groin when the movement of the horse caused her to slide against him. It had been one of the longest nights of his life. His side hurt like hell, and he was as hard as a damn rock. Youd think he hadnt had a woman in weeks, though it had been only a few days.
That he wanted her didnt bother him. A prettynay, a lovelyface and lush body would not endear him to his task, although it might make it more palatable. Abducting a lass, no matter how fair, was not his way. But he had no choice; too much was depending on the wee termagant. And Lachlan would do whatever it took to protect his clan and family, even if he had to kidnap a stubborn, headstrong lass to do so.
A burst of white hot pain fired in his side. He gritted his teeth and waited for it to pass. But each time it seemed to take longer for the flare of pain to ebb. The hard ride had only made it worse. Though hed bound the wound as best he could with a strip of linen, he was still losing blood. Too much blood. Hed be lucky if he could stand when they arrived at Drimnin.
Shed stabbed him. It was a rare lapse. But hed never known a woman to handle a blade with such proficiency. Never hesitating. He shook his head, unable to believe that a lass had succeeded where many formidable men before her had failed. Including her damn half-brother Hector Maclean, Chief of Duart. His fiercest enemy and the source of his current troubles.
Still, in spite of his pain, he had to admit that her spirit impressed him. She knew how to defend herself. Which was more than he could say for the cowardly popinjay shed been with. What kind of man would leave his woman to kidnappers?
Lowlanders, he thought with disgust, glad that the wretched place was behind him.
From Falkirk theyd headed west, crossing the Lomond Hills, skirting the higher peaks, entering into the rugged, mountainous terrain of the Highlands. As dawn broke across the majestic landscape, a layer of dew sparkled across the green glens and heather-filled moors. The land rose in gentle, rounded hills as far as the eye could see.
No matter how many times he left, returning home to the Highlands never ceased to move him.
It baffled him how the lass could choose to live in the Lowlands, forsaking her kin in the Highlands. He knew little about Flora MacLeod, except that since the death of her father when just a child, shed lived with her mother in the Lowlandsshifting between Edinburgh and Castle Campbelland only occasionally traveling into the Highlands to Inveraray. Her half-brother Rory had spoken of her a few timesusually in tones of frustration with some sort of mischief shed gotten herself in. Apparently, whenever he asked her to do something, she unfailingly did the opposite. Her visits to Dunvegan had been infrequent. Everything else hed heard had to do with her reputation at court. For once, in that respect, the rumors seemed to be true.
Hellion was an understatement. He had little patience for courtiers, spoiled headstrong ones even less.
Despite her efforts to sit stiffly before him, the long night in the saddle had eventually worn her down. From the way her body sagged gently against him, and the calming evenness of her breath against his chest, he knew that she slept. Although she wore a cloak over her dress, hed taken the opportunity to wrap his plaid around her, creating a cocoon of warmth against the cold night air.
She was so soft and sweet like this. Relaxed. Almost trusting. He felt an unexpected tug in his chest. A feeling he hadnt had since his sisters were young. He shook off the uncharacteristic bout of sentiment. She shouldnt trust him. He would do what he had to do for the good of his clan. And for his family. Even if it meant using her to do so.
But in repose, the wee hellion looked almostvulnerable. Until the pain hit again and he brutally recalled her blade.
Hed never studied a woman so closely. But after the long night, he felt his gaze falling to her face again and again, until it seemed as if hed memorized every inch of her. He no longer needed to look to see the long lashes fanned against the flawless ivory skin of her cheek, the soft red lips gently parted, and the long winding strands of pale blond hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders. Her features seemed permanently imprinted on his mind.
More than once while she slept, hed been unable to resist bending down, sinking his face into her hair, and inhaling the soft scentlike fresh flowers warmed in the sun.
Everything about her was dainty and sweetly feminine. He found himself fascinated with the perfect arch of her brows and the delicate tilt of her nose. Knowing that it would wake her, he fought the powerful urge to sweep his finger down the curve of her cheek just to see if her skin was as baby soft as it looked.
He cursed and focused on the path ahead of him. The loss of blood from his wound must have addled him to be so engrossed with the lass.
As the first rays of sunshine fell across her pale cheek, she stirred. He wondered how long it would take her to realize
Sure enough, in a matter of seconds she jerked up straight, putting as much distance between them on the saddle as she could manage.
Aye, the lass was stubborn and prideful. That would change. A firm hand was what she needed.
They rode a little while longer, and at the north end of Loch Nell, he ordered his men to stop. There were still many hours of riding ahead of them before they reached Oban. From Oban, they would trade their horses for a birlinn and navigate the oft treacherous Sound of Mull to his keep at Drimnin. Like most men from the Isles, Lachlan felt most at home on the water.
First, however, they needed to eat, water the horses, and do something about his wound. He knew of only one way to stop the bleeding.
Clenching his jaw, he slid from his mount and helped her down after him, trying to control the lightheadedness that threatened to yank his legs out from under him. He gripped his saddle, pretending to tend to his horse while he fought the pull of nausea.
It was worse than hed feared. The lass had done some damage.
He hated any form of weakness. Go tend to your needs, he said roughly. But stay where I can see you.
She didnt move. Who are you? What do you want with me? Is it ransom?
A fiery twist in his side threatened to buckle him. Was the damn woman deaf? Not now, Flora, he said through clenched teeth.
You do know who I am.
He paused, giving the pain a chance to pass. The ground steadied a little, and taking a deep breath, he turned around to face her. He started to order her away, but the expression on her face stopped him. For the first time, shed realized it was not a mistake. He looked for signs of fear, but she appeared more bemused than anything else. Did you think I did not?
I wondered that any man could be fool enough to kidnap the sister of Rory Mor MacLeod and Hector Maclean. She gave him a long look. My brothers will kill you.
He caught the unmistakable gleam in her eye, and his mouth curved in a half-smile. I wouldnt plan the ceilidh yet, my bloodthirsty one. Hector has triedrepeatedlyand failed. Rory I consider a friend. But she was partly correct. Rory would be furious if he ever discovered the truth. In fact, I think he may have cause to thank me.
She scoffed. What for? For abducting his sister? You must be mad.
His voice grew hard. If she were his sister, hed take her across his knee for what shed attempted to do. For saving you from a foolish mistake.
Lord Murray is not She stopped. I dont know what you are talking about.
He cupped her chin with a firm hand and looked deep into those wide, defiant eyes. Remarkable eyes that in the morning light were as blue as the stormy sea. I think you know exactly what Im talking about. Do you deny that you were running off to marry your wee Lowlander?
How could you possibly She jerked her chin away. Its none of your damn business.
He laughed. He couldnt help it, even though it hurt like perdition. The chit had spirit. Misplaced, perhaps, but she would learn her place. He did not tolerate disrespect, especially from a woman. But with her eyes blazing, hands on her hips, and stubborn little chin lifted toward him, he was glad she didnt have another dirk.
Such foul language for a proper lady of court.
She looked as though shed like to rattle off a few others. Instead, she studied him with increasing scrutiny. How did you know where Id be?
He shrugged.
Her eyes narrowed. You were spying on me.
He didnt deny it.
But I dont understand. Even if you were watching me, how could you possibly know it was me leaving the palace? Even Lord Murray didnt realize it was me until I climbed into the carriage.
He hadnt. Not right away. But then again, hed also had the advantage in knowing what she intended. Hed waited outside the palace gates for three nights. And hed seen the woman stepping into Lord Murrays carriage and almost dismissed her, thinking it was a maidservant. But something niggled at him, and hed taken a closer look. And happened to glance down.
He pointed at her feet. At the tips of the delicately embroidered silk slippers now covered in mud that peeked out from beneath her gown. The shoes. He bent a little closer and said in a low voice, Next time you don a disguise, try not to let vanity interfere.
Her cheeks flamed. Hed guessed correctly. Glaring daggers, she whirled around and started off. Giving him the space he needed to tend to his wound.
Dont take too long, Flora, he called after her. Or I will come after you. There was no mistaking the threat in his voice.
She pretended not to hear him and stomped off in the direction of a meadow.
Undone by a pair of slippers, Flora thought morosely, kicking the dirt with the tip of her ruined shoe.
He was right, curse his wretched soul. She knew it was ridiculous, but she loved shoes. They were her one indulgence. She just couldnt bear the thought of being married in plain leather, and with her wooden pattens on to protect her from the mud, she didnt think anyone would notice the delicate satin slippers.
But he had. He noticed everything with those penetrating eyes. Blast him.
Flora nibbled on a dry bit of oatcake, which shed never liked even in the best of circumstances, and washed down the offending grain with a sip of ale. By the time hed finally decided to stop, shed been close to begging to attend to her personal needs. Not to mention starving. Hungry enough to choke down oatcakes and be glad of them. The bit of dried beef one of his men had brought her was considerably better, but shed finished that off quickly.
She sat on a rock a little away from the others, grateful for the moment of reprieve. Sitting for so long, practically in his lap, had been maddening. Every time she tried not to think about him, it seemed she couldnt think of anything but him.
Awareness had been her constant unwelcome companion. After the long journey, she was as tightly wound as a coiled spring, every nerve ending on edge and fraught with tension. It was only natural, she told herself. Hed abducted her. Touched her. Taken liberties with her person that no man had ever dared. What woman wouldnt be nervous? But it was more than nervousness that had her keenly aware of his every movement, every command hed issued to his men, even the distinctive masculine scent of him. A scent that made her yearn to curl up against his warm chest and fall asleep.
How humiliating that shed actually done so. He was her abductor, for heavens sake.
But exhaustion and the gentle sway of the horse had cut through her resolve to stay as far away as possible from him, as easily as a knife slid through butter. The uncharacteristic weakness annoyed her.
What did he want with her? And more important, how was she going to escape?
There was a ruthless edge to the man that gave her pause. He was not used to disobediencethat was obvious. His gruff manner, his brusque tone, his natural authority, all spoke of a man who was used to giving orders. But he was too rough around the edgesa leader, not a laird. Probably one of Colls luchd-taighe guardsmen. Or a captain of one of his castles. Or, more likely, his henchman.
Yet despite what shed done to him, hed treated her with remarkable courtesy. But she sensed that he did not make idle threats. So unless she wanted to be tied up, next time she tried to escape shed better make sure she wasnt caught.
She sank her chin in her hands and stared at the large standing stone at the edge of the grassy meadow. Watching as the rising sun created a shadow across the ground. These odd stones that were scattered all over Scotland had always fascinated her. Some said they belonged to the Druids, but most believed the stones were placed there by the faerie folk.
Though normally she did not give much credence to the rampant superstition that seemed part of the very fabric of the Highlands, the stones did have a magical quality to them. It wasnt hard to understand why such abundant lore surrounded them.
A large shadow fell over her, this one from a living rock, and she glanced up to see him standing before her. With the sun shining behind his head and the enormous sword slung over his back, he looked like some Norse god of war coming to wreak havoc and destructionon her.
Here, eat this. He held out a bit more of the beef. It will be the last until we reach Drimnin.
She took it with a nod.
You found the faerie circle?
You mean the standing stone, she corrected.
No. He pointed to the circle of rocks around her. The circle of stones you are sitting on.
She jumped up, not realizing the stone she was sitting on was one of about thirty low boulders set about in a circle.
He smiled. Afraid you will have bad luck?
Id say its rather too late for that.
He ignored her barb. Are you superstitious?
She shook her head. No. Not exactly. Respectful, perhaps. She looked around and thought for a moment. There is something magical about the place.
Its the Highlands, lass. There is magic everywhere you look.
He was right. It was impossible not to be struck by the beauty of the landscape around her. The hills, the lochs, the brilliant shades of green for as far as the eye could see. But she knew it was as deceptive as the men who lived here. She knew how quickly this place could change, turning cold, brutal, and remote. Barbarous. An unforgiving place of ancient feuds and endless killing. A place where men raised in war took what they wanted with no thought to the lives they were destroying.
It had happened to her mother, and it had happened to her. Abducted like Persephone on her own descent into Hades.
A hell that looked like the Garden of Eden.
It had been different when she was a child. The few times shed seen one of her brothers or sisters, theyd recounted stories of how she used to run wild around the hills of Dunvegan. But she didnt remember. Her father had died when she was only five, and shed left Dunvegan and never returned. Rory had tried repeatedly to bring her back, but her mother always made some excuse to prevent her from going. Soon, shed stopped wanting to.
But once in a while, something would jog her memorylike a whisper of something that was just out of reach.
She shook off the memory. No matter what shed once felt for the Highlands, it had all changed when shed learned the truth of what had happened to her mother. Of why she rarely smiled. Of why she hated the Highlands and the brutal men who lived there.
Janet Maclean Maclean (twice) MacIan MacLeod ne Campbell had been sold from husband to husband, a pawn in the political machinations of men. Manipulated by those who should have protected her. Used. She was a commodity, and they never let her forget it. She was married the first time at fifteen to a man nearly four times her age. The second to a husband who was murdered. The third she never spoke of. And the last, Floras father, was another much older man. Finally, on his death, Janet was too old to have children, and for the first time in her life she was free. But it was already too late.
The damage had been done.
Flora straightened her back and turned away from the beautiful vistas. I prefer the city to the wilds. Like the others of his ilk, this Highland warrior had abducted her for his own ends. With no care to the plans hed upset. And the company of gentlemen to barbarians.
His face hardened, and he took a dangerous step toward her. Like the gentleman who left you without a backward glance?
She flinched. Flora was more hurt by Lord Murrays abandonment than she wanted to admit. Im sure he only thought to get help.
He only thought to save his foul hide.
Im sure youre wrong. She didnt know why she was defending Lord Murray. Her pride stung. Both that shed been wrong about him and at how quickly hed left her. The Highlander might have opened her eyes, but she wouldnt thank him for doing so. What woman wanted to be publicly humiliated by the man who was supposed to be her husband? Who was supposed to care for her, but had so little regard for her that he would leave her to the company of brigands?
But they werent brigands. They were Macleans. She hoped there was a difference.
He reached down and took her chin in his hand. Holding firm when she tried to jerk away. His eyes were truly remarkable. A crisp and vivid blue.
Dont count on a rescue, my sweet. Not from him. Hes not likely to run back to Edinburgh shouting to the rooftops of a failed elopementor of his own lack of honor. He dropped her chin. If you are done with the flagon, I have need of it. She handed it to him. We will be leaving soon. Be ready when I call. He turned and walked away, leaving her feeling strangely unsettled. A feeling she was becoming used to when he was around.
She watched him return to his men, continuing on toward the edge of the loch. Her pulse jumped. Though it seemed an odd time for a swim, he quickly removed his plaid, leather jerkin, and boots and waded into the water.
She couldnt look away. He was a striking man. Not just handsome, but blatantly masculine. His features seemed forged of iron, strong and hard. His damp shirt molded against an impressive array of stomach muscles. In his shirt and leather trews, she realized that he was less bulky than shed initially thought. Muscular and broad-shouldered, but honed tight as a bow. It somehow made him seem more dangerous.
She gasped. Even from here she could see the enormous dark red stain that covered his shirt from under his arm to his waist. He winced as he used the water to loosen the cloth, pulling it away from his skin. She realized what he was doing. Cleaning the wound where shed stabbed him.
She bit her lip. It must hurt something horrible, but he barely reacted. She turned away, refusing to feel guilty, and found another rock to sit onthis one she made sure was not part of a circle. She sat down and waited.
Her gaze slid to his men. Theyd finished tending the horses and had started to build a fire. From the looks of it, a very hot fire.
She frowned, perplexed by the odd behavior.
Her abductor emerged from the loch and sat on the bank, pulling on his boots. The man who looked like a VikingAllan, shed heard him calledhanded him the flagon. Her abductor grabbed it with a nod and took a long swig. Handing it back to the Viking, he said something that seemed to cause a minor disagreement.
Her heart pounded as if she almost guessed what it was about. He lifted his shirt.
No.
He turned to look at her, as if shed said it out loud, as the Viking poured from the flagon onto his open wound.
Her chest squeezed as his body jerked, but his face remained impassive. The pain must be excruciating. But except for the tightness around his mouth, she wouldnt have known it.
She jumped up from the rock, at once understanding the reason for the fire. Shed seen it done once before, as a child. She took a step toward him and stopped when one of his men lifted a dagger from the fire. A dagger with a blade that glowed a fiery red.
Unconsciously, she clenched her hand, recalling the time shed been trying to help in the kitchen and accidentally knocked over the large iron stew pot that had been simmering over the fire. Without thinking, shed grabbed for it, burning her hand badly. She still bore the scars on her palm. She couldnt imagine how much it would hurt on an open wound.
One of the men tried to give him a stick to put between his teeth, but he refused. He lifted his shirt, and her stomach lurched. She could see the gaping wound from here.
She took a step toward him and stopped. His eyes found hers as the side of the blade hit the wound.
The sizzling sound of the blade upon his flesh made her chest twist. Yet despite the pain, he barely flinched. And through it all, he held her gaze.
She could smellit was horrible. She turned, breaking the connection, unable to bear it any longer.
Shed never witnessed anything like it. It was the most impressive display of control and strength shed ever seen.
She wouldnt apologize, but neither could she ignore the fact that shed done that to him. Nor could she ignore the strange conflicting feelings he aroused in her. How could she admire a man whod kidnapped her?
She had to get out of here.
It was her worst nightmare. Banished to the Highlands and forced to marry an uncouth savage. Now would be the best time to escape, while he was weakened. Slowly, she started moving back.
His head snapped around, and she froze.
Flora. His voice was hard and steady. Take one more step and youll regret it.
Not weakened at all. The man was inhuman.
Another night had passed by the time they climbed up the sea-gate stairs to Drimnin Castle. Lachlans side ached, and his head felt as if it had been split in two with Allans battle-ax. The bleeding had stopped, but if he didnt get some rest soon, he knew fever would set in. If it hadnt already.
He led them across the yard and up the timber forestairs to the entry of the keep. As was common with most tower house castles, the only entry was from the first floor. If any attackers made it through the gate, the stairs could easily be removed or burned.
It was more of a relief than he would admit when they entered the warmth of the keep.
Flora looked around the entry, obviously unimpressed, and spun on him immediately, eyes flashing. Where is he? I demand that you take me to your laird, now.
Demand? His temper flared. He was in no mood for her sharp tongue. Have care, little one. Remember your status here.
How could I forget? Im a prisoner. Abducted by a band of Highland barbarians.
His hand whipped out to grip her arm, and he peered down into that beautiful mutinous face. I do not like that word. His voice cut like steel. Do not use it again.
He saw the spark in her eyes, delighting in the knowledge that shed gotten to him. The truth too painful?
His gaze slid down the length of her body. A barbarian would know exactly how to shut her up. Would you like it to be?
How dare you
Theres not much I wouldnt dare, and youd do best to remember it. He nodded, and his men and the servants retreated, leaving them alone.
She didnt miss the silent command. Just who do you think you are?
He smiled, but it was without humor. Who do you think? Your host.
Her eyes widened. You couldnt be.
Her disbelief shouldnt bother him, but it did. He was the Laird of Coll, and shed damn well better believe it.
But Her voice dropped off.
He could tell by her expression what she was thinking. That he wasnt refined enough and had none of the courtly graces of a laird. Damn right. He was too damn busy fighting her brother. Too damn busy protecting his clan from years of floods and famine. And war. What learning hed had was forged on the battlefield.
Why have you brought me here? she asked.
Youll find out soon enough.
Ill never marry you.
The certainty in her voice infuriated him. I dont recall asking, he said coldly.
A man like you wouldnt ask. Hed take.
He took a step closer to her. She didnt know when to stop. By God, she would learn. And what kind of man am I? he asked in a dangerous tone.
She lifted her chin and met him square in the eye, refusing to cower before his intimidation. The kind who abducts a lady with no care for the plans hes upset and forcibly brings her to his keep.
You would have been miserable with him.
He was my choice.
He didnt understand her. She didnt deny that her marriage would have been a mistake, but she was still angry that hed interrupted her elopement. There wasnt enough time in the day to decipher the mind of a lass.
She gave him a sidelong look from under her long lashes. So you do not intend to force me to marry you?
No, he answered truthfully.
Her nose wrinkled, as if she werent sure whether to believe him. Then its my brother Hector. You intend to use me to get to him.
It hadnt taken her long to figure it out. Part of it, anyway. The lass did not have just a sharp tongue and beauty, she had wits as well. He gave her a long appraising glance. He would have to be careful. If she learned what he was about, it could make his task difficult.
She had a smug expression on her face. Well, you are in for a disappointment if you think to use me to bargain with Hector. I barely know him.
But I do.
Too well. Lachlan and Hector had been at each others throats for years, since the day of Lachlans fathers funeral, when Lachlan was not yet ten and Hector had used the burial as an opportunity to take over Coll. Lachlans uncle Neil Mor had thwarted the brash invasion, cutting off the heads of the Duart Macleans and tossing them into the stream now known as Struthan nan Ceann, the Stream of Heads.
Hector had never forgottenor forgivenhis defeat, and Lachlan had been fighting for what was his ever since.
Tensions had run high between the two branches of the clan for years, but the feuding resumed not long ago when Lachlan refused to bow to Hector as the superior branch of the clan. It was a bit of posturing by Hector to answer for his invasion of Lachlans lands in Morvern. Hector claimed that his actions were justified by Lachlans refusal to take his part in his blood feud with the MacDonaldsa duty that was owed to a chief. The kinship between the two branches of Macleans, descended long ago from brothers, was all but forgotten. As a feudal baron, Lachlan didnt owe fealty to anyone, except perhaps the king. And with King Jamess recent maneuverings, even that was debatable.
Hector has something of mine. Now I have something of his.
What does he have? Your favorite dog?
No, he said flatly. My favorite castle.
Her eyes widened appreciably. Breacachadh, on the Isle of Coll?
Yes. His fists clenched. With Hectors ancestral seat, Duart Castle, sequestered and seized by the kings commissioners for his treasonous dealings with Queen Elizabeth, hed turned his sights to Lachlans.
But how?
I was away. While Lachlan was gone, Hector had led a force to Coll and, using trickery, captured the castle. But Hector would pay for his treachery.
Why did you not appeal to the king?
His jaw clenched. I did. Hed tried to follow the rules, but it had only made things worse. Much worse. He would never make that mistake again.
Youve kidnapped me for nothing. My brother has been after Coll for some time, he will not exchange it for me. A sister he barely knows.
You underestimate your worth, Flora.
He knew right away that it was the wrong thing to say.
Her face went taut, and her voice grew thick with emotion. I know exactly my worth.
There was something significant about her words, but he didnt have the energy to figure it out. He wouldnt feel pity. She was a means to an end. He was finished with this conversation. Before she guessed what he intended, he lifted her in his arms and started to carry her up the stairs.
What are you doing?
Taking you to your room.
W-h-h-y?
To shut her up so he could get some sleep. And it had seemed like the most effective method at firstuntil he was forcefully reminded of his injury.
You shouldnt be carrying me. Youll reopen the wound.
Since youre the one who put it there, Im surprised you care.
I didnt mean She stopped. Well, I did, butwellForget it. You can bleed to death for all I care.
Your concern is touching.
He swung open the door; it squeaked and rattled off its hinges a little. The years of famine had taken its toll. Drimnin Castle was old and in desperate need of repair. He looked around the sparse room, knowing that it was far different from what she was used to, but until he got his castle back, it would be her home.
He dropped her on the bed.
You cant mean for me to sleep here?
Her horrified tone only fueled his anger. Is there someplace you would rather sleep? He leaned over her, and she tried scooting back away from him, but there was not much room to maneuver on the small bed.
He moved closer, looming over her. Only a few inches separated them. My bed, perhaps?
Her eyes widened. Never.
He didnt move. Tension crackled between them thick and heavy. God, he could smell her. Could hear the furious beat of her heart. He could almost taste the warmth of her lips beneath his. Opening. So soft and sweet. His body ached with pent-up desire.
He should take her right now. It would be over, and she would be his. And God knows he wanted her. Many men in his position would.
But not him.
He jerked away, furious, his body drumming with anger and lust. Hed never used force to get what he wanted, and he wouldnt start now. Now matter how tempted. Hed have her. And soon. Even if she didnt know it yet.
Flora MacLeod would be his bride. The ransom demand to Hector would give him the time to convince the lass to marry him. Like it or not, he needed her. And it couldnt be done with force. But pandering to the contrariness of a termagant left a bitter taste in his mouth. He cursed the need for her approval, but there was no doubt about it, she would be his.
And if she tried to stand in his way
There would be no mercy.