Morning came, and Victoria woke with a smile. Like a contented cat, she stretched under the warm fur.

Conor was gone from the bed. Surely he'd not gone away yet.

A maid entered the room with a tray, upon it a teapot and cup. "Mister Conor asked that I bring you up refreshment and see to a bath for you, my lady."

Victoria's cheeks heated at the maid's knowing she'd spent the night in Conor's bed. No doubt the entire keep would be aware of it by day's end. "Thank you," she mumbled. "Is Con... , Mister Conor here?"

"Yes, Miss, he's downstairs in the great room," the maid placed the tray down. "Would you like your bath brought here?"

"No." Victoria scrambled from the bed. Disregarding her nudity, she grabbed her chemise and other clothing she yanked them on in a hurry. "Please, in my chamber."

"Very well," the maid nodded with a polite smile. Did Conor bring women here so often the maid thought nothing of her being there?

"The tea also, please," Victoria dashed to the doorway, and after looking out and ensuring the hallway remained devoid of anyone, she hurried to her chamber.

A short while later, she sank into the hot bath with a deep sigh. The water arose against her skin, a soothing heaven to her sore areas. At once the soft aches brought enticing images and she closed her eyes.

Perhaps Conor was not the only one bewitched.

"The morning meal is over. Would you like something brought up?" The maid asked as she placed a drying cloth next to the tub.

"Something light would be nice," Victoria replied, glad for the reprieve of not having to face the clan until later. The maid nodded and left.

The room seemed quiet and empty and Victoria wondered how she'd fare in the upcoming long days without Conor's presence.

The door opened and she waited for the maid to place down her breakfast.

"I had hoped to find you still in my chamber," Conor's deep voice brought her out of her musings.

He stood just inside the doorway, his presence instantly filling the space. Dressed in a light off-white tunic and kilt, with a tartan in the McDougall colors of red and blue that fell just below his knees and a clan insignia pin at his shoulder, today he looked every bit the Scotsman

"Are you about to leave?" Victoria asked, attempting to ignore his eyes roving over her nudity. "Is it why you are dressed in such a manner?"

"Aye. I must see about the McNeil's. They fight with my cousins who possess lands neighboring theirs." He moved closer and picked up the bar of soap. "You will stay and wait for me."

He fished her foot from the water, washed it, rinsed it and then repeated with the other. His eyes not leaving her face, he drew her toes into his mouth and suckled them.

Victoria moaned loudly, "Oh!"

Sensations rippled up her leg to her center until she wasn't sure she could withstand much more of his ministrations.

His hand slid up her leg and on to her inner thigh. "Say it, Victoria. Tell me you'll wait."

"I—I cannot promise… Ah," Victoria gasped when his fingers found her tender region. "I cannot think with you touching me."

"Then perhaps I prefer you not to think," Conor smiled and straightened.

Victoria blinked at his putting distance between them, the drying cloth in his hand, but then understood when the maid entered with a food-laden tray.

She finished bathing while Conor moved to gaze out the window. She admired his proud stance, as he remained unaware of her perusal. Tall, arrestingly handsome, he was poised to gain his own keep. Surely he'd marry a clanswoman with a handsome dowry. The thought of that incensed her. Why did she allow it to matter? The man could never belong to her. Nor she to him.

When she stepped from the water, he turned to watch the maid dry her, but did not move from his post by the window. After the girl helped her don a clean chemise, she curtsied and left.

"Are you betrothed?" Victoria asked, not sure why. It wasn't like she had any ownership over him.

Deep blue eyes met hers, the depth of them lulling her toward him. "Not yet, my brother insists I become engaged to the daughter of the McNeil Laird soon."

His matter of fact tone hurt, but Victoria pushed it away. "I see. Well, I am sure it will be what is best for your clan."

"Aye, it is my duty and it would bring an end to all this fighting," he told her, closing the distance and fingering the lace of her chemise. "I don't want to marry her." He shrugged. "But I may have to."

He bent down and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin where her neck and shoulder met, sending shivers down her spine. "Let's not speak on such matters. I would much rather spend these last moments with you Victoria, having you once again."

A whirlwind of emotions rolled into her, Victoria became mortified at tears filling her eyes. She turned away, feigning interest in the food tray. "True, it’s not the best topic for our last conversation."

"Not our last, Victoria." Conor came to her and placed his hands on both sides of her face lifting it, his eyes bored into hers. "You must wait for me."

"Have you considered my brother may bring a battle to your clan's doorstep which will make this border skirmish seem like a child's game?"

His hands fell away. "Aye. I have."

"Then allow me to go, Conor."

Victoria pulled him down for a kiss. Their lips lingered, pressed together, touching barely, but by no means chaste. With slow motions, they circled around in a lover's dance, their lips exploring each other's.

Conor ran his hands under her chemise and cupped her bottom. His hands engulfed her bottom and lifted her body into him.

"Spread your legs for me once again, Victoria. Allow me to take your scent upon me when I go." He backed her toward the bed, falling into it with her.

The temptation was great to ask him to take her with him again. But she knew he'd deny her if she did.

With eyes closed, he pressed his forehead against hers, and they remained as such until he once again took her mouth with his.

He pushed her chemise up, exposing her bottom half, and then he lifted his kilt and guided his stiffness forward.

When he thrust into her, Victoria released his mouth and called out his name. He filled her completely before pulling out just enough for the friction of the movement to propel him to move into her again.

"I want to make love to you until you agree to wait for me. Then continue until we are lost." The bed rocked as he moved in and out of her with grace and perfection bringing her to tears.

He continued, all the while keeping his lips pressed on her skin, his tongue moving across her neckline as if attempting to absorb her taste.

His hair fell forward across his brow, his muscles strained under her palms with the long strokes of his lovemaking.

Conor took her hands in his and held them over her head. "Look at me, Victoria. I want to see you crest."

They locked eyes, and she strained to prolong the moment, but the eroticism of looking into his eyes, along with his movements, made it impossible. She lifted up to him, their bodies slamming together, sensing the nearness of their climax.

"Oh, Conor!" Victoria screamed as she floated.

Conor lost control, his movements remained strong, but all rhythm eluded as he thrust into her several times before also coming. His roar of completion falling over her.

He released her hands and she brought her arms around his shoulders, not wanting to let him go.

"I must go. My men await," Conor lifted from the bed.

His eyes searched her face. "You will be well. Do not fret. Calum will ensure you are well-treated."

Victoria bit her lip, not sure how to reply. If she waited for him, what was the use, he'd already admitted he would marry a Scottish woman. "Fare well and safe travels, Conor."

A muscle on his jaw tightened at her words, but he only nodded.

For an unexplainable reason, she didn't want him to leave burdened, and maybe she could think of a way to impede her brother from arriving until after Conor returned. "Very well, you win. I will wait, Conor."

He gathered her close and kissed her hair. "It's all I ask." With one last lingering look, he left.

Moments later, Victoria leapt from the bed and ran to the window.

It was a cloudy day, the mists of the highlands feathering across the mountain region like long fingers. A large group of men mingled in the courtyard. She watched Conor walk out to join them. His imposing presence took everyone's attention.

Conor's brother walked to him, and they spoke briefly. Calum looked up to the window and met her eyes, his expression more curious than anything. He nodded to whatever Conor said and the brothers embraced. Calum slapped Conor's shoulder and looked up at her again.

A boy brought Conor's immense battle horse. With a loud call he and his men mounted up.

Conor made a formidable warrior with his broad sword slung across his wide back, he let out a battle cry that was echoed by his men. Then without looking back, he rode out of the keep with a long line of men behind him.

"Victoria?" Cailyn called from inside the doorway. "Are you well?"

"Yes." She swung around to face the woman who waked in and looked at her with interest.

"My brother leaves for a spell, I know you must be worried." Cailyn didn't seem worried in the least. "They do this often, things of men." She waved her hand in the air.

Glad for the distraction, Victoria looked to Conor's sister. "I am more confused than anything. I do not know what your brother plans for me." She sighed. "Cailyn, as soon as I dress, will you show me the grounds?"

"Of course," Cailyn told her with a bright smile.

Victoria studied her new friend. "I do worry, I fear what will happen if my brother Jamie arrives here intent on finding me."

Cailyn nodded. "I've heard about him. Is he as ruthless as they say?"

"It depends on the situation I suppose. Someone will have to intercept him until Conor returns and I convince him to allow me to go with Jamie. We don't need another war." Victoria studied Cailyn. "I may need your help when Jamie arrives. There is no doubt my brother will bring war with him. He has a soft spot when it comes to women."

Cailyn became thoughtful, her dark blue eyes sliding away from Victoria. "Is that so?