Twenty-one

Ewen had reached the end of his restraint. Whatever control he thought he had vanished in the wake of her release. He’d wanted to drive her crazy and make her ready for him; he just hadn’t anticipated what it would do to him.

It was the most erotic experience of his life. He’d never tasted a woman so fully before. Never had his mouth on her as she broke apart. Never felt so connected as the spasms of pleasure reverberated through her body. She gave herself so freely and completely.

He couldn’t wait another minute.

Mumbling some kind of apology, he levered his body over hers. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed hard in anticipation as he fought to hold himself steady. To go slow.

Her eyes lifted to his. He felt a click. It was as if something shifted in his chest and locked into place.

Her eyes flickered down and widened. He followed the line of her gaze and saw what she did: a very intimidating-sized erection. He wanted to give her some kind of reassurance, to tell her it was going to be okay, but truth be told, even if he could manage to grunt a few words right now, he wasn’t sure how much this was going to hurt. Even soft and wet from her release, she was still small and tight, and he was big and hard. Very big and very hard.

Just thinking about it made him pulse. He fought the urge to throw his head back and surge inside.

But it was a battle he lost. His cock was too hard, her slick, warm entrance too inviting, and whatever control he’d had fled the moment he rubbed his sensitive head against her silky dampness. Holding her gaze, he started to press inside, inch by inch, but the intimacy was too intense, the emotions too powerful. It was too much. The gentle nudge became a quick plunge as he possessed her fully, binding her to him in a way that could not be undone.

He let out a groan of pure, primitive satisfaction, overwhelmed by a sensation of relief and something else. The only way to describe it was utter rightness. As if he was where he belonged. As if he’d found his destiny.

Her soft cry of pain broke through some of his haze. But it was too late. Too late for recriminations. Too late to change his mind. Too late to take it back—he’d gone too far, he couldn’t pull back now even if he wanted to. She was his.

At least for the moment.

He clenched his teeth, holding himself stone still, wanting to give her time to adjust to the feel of him. But it felt too good. She was tight and hot, gripping him like a damned glove, and every instinct in his body screamed to move.

He stole a glance down at her, surprised to see her eyes not squeezed shut, but looking at him with the emotion that she’d forced him to acknowledge.

Love. His chest squeezed. A wave of tenderness crashed over him. He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled. “For what?”

For so many things. “I hurt you.”

“It isn’t so bad … now.”

As if to prove her words, she moved, sending a hot swell of pleasure surging to the tip of him. He groaned, unable to resist the primitive instinct to respond with a movement of his own. A tight, quick nudge.

She winced.

He cursed. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m trying not to move, but you just feel so good, it’s killing me.”

Given how much pain he was in at the moment, the smile that spread across her face wasn’t exactly appreciated. “I do? I am?”

He gave her a sharp glare, his teeth clenched tightly. “You don’t need to be so pleased about it.”

Her smile became even broader.

He leaned down to kiss her again, the movement making him sink deeper.

She gasped, but this time not with pain. Their eyes met. “Oh! That felt …”

He knew how it felt. It felt incredible. He moved again, drawing out just a little bit and sinking back in. Her eyes widened. “Oh …” Again. “Oh!”

When she circled her arms around his neck to hold on tighter, it was all the invitation he needed. Holding her gaze, he thrust again—and again. Watching for any sign of pain. But it wasn’t pain that brought a soft pink blush to her cheeks.

When her hips rose to meet him, he couldn’t hold back. His strokes lengthened. Deepened. Went faster and harder, her gasping moans urging him on.

The pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Like nothing he’d ever imagined. She was … everything. And more.

So tight. So hot. Sweat poured off him, the frantic thrusts taking their toll. Pressure built at the base of his spine, stronger and more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. Her body gripped him, milked him, pulled him over the edge.

And he took her with him. Holding her hips, he thrust in hard and deep, grinding out her pleasure in slow, hard circles as his own roared in his ears.

He came with a white-hot intensity that shook him to his core. For a moment, the pleasure was so acute his mind went black. Again and again the spasms wracked him. Gripping. Squeezing. Wringing him dry.

“I love you so much.” Her words echoed over and over again in his head, in his heart.

When the last ebb had faded from his loins, he collapsed, spent and exhausted, on the bed beside her, reveling in the sensations and strange feelings running through him. He still felt like he was flying. He felt light-headed, his mind a little soft and fuzzy. Almost as if he’d had more of that whisky than he’d realized. Jesus! He’d never realized it could be like … that.

Incredible. Amazing. Like nothing he’d ever experienced before. They’d been … connected. Not just joined, but connected. He’d never felt closer to anyone in his life as he had at the moment he was inside her, looking deep into her eyes. When they’d found release together, it wasn’t just his body that was sated but his soul. And the euphoria hadn’t ended with release. He felt—the feeling was so foreign to him, it took him a moment to put a name to it—happy. As if he could lie here with her forever.

She was so damned sweet. So giving. And she loved him? How had he gotten so lucky?

He was about to reach over and tuck her under his arm, when she spoke. “If this is what marriage has to offer, I think I shall be quite content.”

She might have doused him with a bucket of cold water, the shock of her words was the same. The fuzziness disappeared. The euphoria and happiness turned to an icy chill as the reality of what he’d done hit him quick and hard.

Fuck.

The oath was well placed. That was exactly what he’d done—both literally and figuratively. Not just her, but himself as well.

Instead of tucking her against him, he stared at the wooden roof of the barn in stunned disbelief as the ramifications battered down on him relentlessly.

God’s blood, what the hell had he done?

In taking her innocence, he’d violated the trust of both his king and his liege lord, and put his future, as well as that of his clan, at risk. One finger of land? Hell, he wouldn’t have a fist of dirt to his name when Bruce found out. The half-finished castle—a monument to his father’s rashness—would be a blight on the landscape forever. But none of that would matter, because Ewen would be dead. The king was going to kill him.

Ewen had been trying to keep his head down, do his job, distance himself from his “wild” father and rebellious cousin, and not bring attention to himself. Well, Bruce was sure as hell going to notice this. He was almost glad Sir James was dead, so he wouldn’t have to see this.

Meant to be. Rightness. Fate. Destiny. Had he really used such fanciful excuses for justifying the inexcusable and losing sight of his honor? For forgetting what mattered? What about duty, loyalty, and discipline? Those were what he was supposed to think about. He wanted to blame it on the whisky, but he knew it wasn’t that. He’d been scared of losing her and he’d reacted without thought. He’d let emotion control him. Damn it, he didn’t get emotional. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

He was as bad as his damned father! His whole life he’d been fighting to make sure he didn’t end up like Wild Fynlay, and in a matter of minutes, he’d undone it all.

The Lamonts in Cowal would be no more. Up to you. God, he felt ill.

At first Janet didn’t realize anything was wrong. Still tingling and weak with pleasure, still feeling as if she were soaring through the clouds, she was so caught up in the wonder of what had just happened that she assumed Ewen was feeling the same way.

She wasn’t even worried when he didn’t respond to her jest. He was probably just as overwhelmed as she was.

It was only when he sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the pallet (giving her a nice view of his broad, well-muscled back), tugged up his breeches, and put his head in his hands that she realized something was wrong.

She realized just how wrong when he muttered a vile oath that she’d never heard from him before.

Her chest squeezed, but she tried not to overreact. So what if this wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured the moment? It didn’t matter that he hadn’t pulled her into his arms, stroked her hair, and told her how wonderful it was. How much he loved her. Really it didn’t.

The squeeze tightened to a pang. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old virgin. She was a mature woman. She didn’t need such reassurances, even though they would have been nice. She pushed back the hot wave of emotion that rose to her eyes.

Ignoring the silly, girlish disappointment swelling in her chest, she tried to think rationally. His reaction was understandable. Of course, it was. She knew Ewen, and no doubt he would see taking her virginity as some kind of violation of his man’s code.

She might think it was ridiculous, but he didn’t.

Sitting up behind him, she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under her palm. Another splinter of hurt tried to make its way through the happiness she’d wrapped around herself like a plaid, but she wouldn’t let it.

“Please don’t be upset. Truly, there is nothing to worry about. We’ve done nothing wrong.” She smiled. “Or nothing that cannot soon be corrected. I will go to Robert as soon as we arrive and explain—well, perhaps not everything.” Robert could be just as knightly about these kinds of things as Ewen. “But he will understand. He will be happy to see me finally wed, and marrying me will help your clan—you’ll see.”

Nothing could have prevented the stab of hurt when he jerked away from her touch. “You don’t understand a damned thing—the king is going to be furious!”

Janet blinked back at him in shock, stunned by the force of his vehemence. She didn’t think of herself as possessing tender feelings, but he’d managed to find some with his typically blunt and razor-sharp words. “Perhaps it is not an ideal match, but I’m sure Robert can be persuaded—”

He grabbed her by the arm and forced her to face him. “Damn it, Janet! Not everything can be handled with a deft tongue and a few pretty smiles. When the hell are you going to learn that? You have no idea what I’ve done.”

She stopped telling herself to dismiss his reaction. Whatever it was that was causing him to act like this was serious.

He dropped his hand and put his head back in his hands.

Suddenly chilled, she gathered the plaid left by Margaret from the bottom of the pallet, wrapped it around her shoulders, and shifted into position beside him. “Then why don’t you tell me,” she said softly.

She thought he was going to ignore her request. But after a few minutes of grappling, he seemed to reach some kind of decision. “The king has already arranged a betrothal for you.”

She sucked in her breath, staring at him in absolute horror and disbelief. She couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe. Her mind was busy racing in thousands of directions. It was the last thing she’d expected. Robert had never given any indication that he planned …

Betrayal ripped through her, tearing that plaid of happiness into tiny little shreds. But it wasn’t just from Robert. She stared at Ewen, looking for the man she thought she knew. Who she thought knew her.

He lied to me.

“Who?” she asked numbly.

“Walter Stewart.” The blow took every last bit of air from her chest. Of course! Ewen had let his name slip once. Now she understood the significance. She wanted to laugh, but feared she would cry. Walter Stewart was barely old enough to have earned his spurs. “My liege lord, and the son of the man I owe everything to,” he added.

She might have tried to understand his guilt, the depths of the dishonor he must be feeling for his disloyalty and broken trust, but she was too wrapped up in her own pain and broken trust. She stared at his face, searching for something to hold on to. Something to change the inevitable conclusion staring down at her.

She looked away, turning her gaze to her bare toes. At some point she must have kicked off her boots. A sharp pang sliced through her heart. Was it only minutes ago that she thought he was the one for her? “You did not tell me.”

It wasn’t a question. She didn’t care about his reasons why, but he told her anyway. “The king suspected you would not be as … uh, amenable to returning if you knew.”

The shock was beginning to fade, and anger surged inside her. She looked back up at him, her mouth twisted in a sneer. “How well he knows me. And you went along with it, of course. It was probably easier for you. ‘Not your battle,’ isn’t that what you said? Why should you get involved?”

His mouth thinned at her sarcasm. “By time I realized I was involved it, was too late. I knew you’d be angry, and I know it’s no excuse, but at the time I was more worried about keeping us both alive.”

His admission that he was involved was also too late—and too little.

“You could have told me tonight. You should have told me tonight.”

“Aye, well I didn’t exactly intend for this to happen. I thought it would be easier if the king explained. I thought it would make our parting less … complicated.”

“If I hated you?”

He stared at her, unblinking.

Dear God! The color washed from her face; that was exactly what he thought. He would have just handed her over to another man and not looked back. Her heart shattered like glass thrown upon the floor. He might as well have done exactly that to it.

Suddenly another truth hit her. Another betrayal. “This is not a temporary stay in Scotland. The king has no intention of letting me return to Roxburgh, does he?”

He didn’t shirk from the cold accusation in her gaze. “He does not.”

“But you let me think I might persuade him. You knew how important this was to me, and still let me believe I would be returning!”

She saw him flinch, but his guilt wasn’t good enough.

He shrugged his shoulders. His naked shoulders that even now taunted her with memories. She could see the tiny imprints of her nails. Proof of her stupidity.

“It seemed easier at the time. I thought you might refuse to go, and I didn’t want to have to go chasing after you again. What you were doing was dangerous—”

“And, of course, it couldn’t be as important as what you are doing.”

She thought he couldn’t hurt her any more than he had by lying to her. She was wrong. He never believed in me at all.

She might have tried to understand his attempt to avoid conflict, but not the lack of regard for her. He’d known how much what she was doing meant to her, and in humoring her, in letting her believe her mission was only being delayed, he’d shown just how little he valued her. How little he thought of her. He would never give her what she wanted from a husband.

She stood to leave, but he caught her arm, stopping her. “Just because you can talk your way out of a situation doesn’t mean you should. You are overconfident to the point of recklessness. With what happened with the priest in Roxburgh … It was only a matter of time before you were discovered. I’m not going to apologize for not wanting to see you in danger.”

“How about for lying to me?” And making me love you?

His eyes softened. But she felt strangely indifferent to it. An hour ago, she might have seen it as a sign of feeling. Now, she knew better. “I’m deeply sorry for that. I was just trying to do my job.”

A sharp scoffing sound erupted from her tightly wound chest. “And the mission always comes first, isn’t that right?” He didn’t say anything. She looked at his handsome face, seeing the silent plea for understanding. Part of her wanted to give it to him. Part of her wanted to think there was still some way this wouldn’t end up so horribly. “And what now, Ewen? What happens to your mission now?”

Surely she couldn’t have been so wrong. He didn’t deserve a choice, but she was going to give him one.

Ewen had bungled this badly. Which was exactly the reason he’d wanted to avoid it. He couldn’t stand the way she was looking at him. Seeing the shattered trust in her eyes. The betrayal. The broken heart.

It tore at him.

He didn’t want to lose her. But what the hell could he do? He would try his damnedest to make it right, to salvage what he could of his honor and his place in Bruce’s army, but he held no illusions.

“I will explain everything to Bruce when we return. If he agrees, we will be married as soon as the banns are read.”

She stared at him, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “You don’t really think you can get him to agree?”

He didn’t think there was a chance in hell. His jaw clenched. “I thought you were confident you could persuade him?”

“That was before I was apprised of the betrothal. Robert will not ‘reward’ you for interfering with his plans.”

“I will tell him there is no other choice. It is too late.” He’d taken her innocence, damn it.

“Then you should prepare to defend yourself with your sword, because he will want to kill you. Robert will not look kindly on your cheapening the worth of his prize.”

“Do not speak of it like that,” he snapped angrily. “That is not how I feel.”

“How do you feel, Ewen?”

Like he was trying to find traction on a hill of ice? Confused? Torn? Like a man who’d just lost everything and failed an entire clan? “How can you ask after what just happened? Surely you must realize how much you mean to me?”

He could tell by the flash of disappointment that crossed her face that it was not the declaration she wanted to hear. But it must have been enough. She put her hand on his arm, turning those big sea-green eyes to his imploringly. “Then run away with me. We will find a priest somewhere to marry us. You know it is the only way. Robert will never grant us permission to marry.”

Every muscle in his body turned as rigid as steel, his rejection of her words bone deep.

Was fate playing some kind of hideous joke on him, forcing him to face the same choice as his father? Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to make the same mistake. “I am not going to run away.”

She watched him, her eyes taking note of his clenched fists and flexed muscles. “Loving me isn’t going to make you your father, Ewen.”

She gazed up at him with such compassion and understanding that for a moment he wavered. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her it would be all right.

But it wouldn’t. His feelings for her weren’t going to cost him this. “Won’t it? Maybe you’re right. It wouldn’t make me my father. My father had Stewart to help him pick up the pieces; I will have no one.”

“You will have me.”

As if it could be that simple. “What kind of life would we live? Without the king and Stewart’s support, I have nothing to offer you. No money. No castle. Just two hundred people depending on me to provide for them. Should we join my cousin and kinsmen in Ireland with the other ‘rebels’?”

She lifted her chin stubbornly, her mouth pursed. “Mary will help. Christina as well.”

“You would ask that of them? You would put them at odds with Bruce.”

With that, he succeeded in quieting her.

“Running off isn’t romantic, Janet, it’s irresponsible and foolish. It won’t solve our problem; it will make it worse. Nay, there is no other way. We will take our chances with Bruce.”

He forced himself not to see the disappointment shimmering in her eyes, but it ate like acid in his chest.

“Then you have made your choice.”

“I have.”

“Even if it means we cannot be together? Even if it means I must marry another man?”

He took her by the arm, dragging her face to his. “Yes, damn it, yes!”

It was as if he’d blown out a candle; the light in her eyes simply died. He felt the quick stirrings of panic in his chest. Instinctively, he reached for her, but she jerked away.

Her eyes shot sea-green daggers at him, sharp enough to draw blood. “Do not touch me again. You have made your decision; now I have made mine. I will not marry you or Walter Stewart. I will not marry anyone. I will take the veil before anyone tries to force me down the aisle.”

His pulse leapt, panic no longer just stirring in his chest but jumping—nay, ricocheting—all over. “You don’t mean that.”

She didn’t say anything. She wouldn’t even look at him. Her gaze was pinned on the door behind him. “Contrary to your belief, Ewen, I am capable of knowing my own mind.”

He swore, knowing she was slipping away from him but not knowing how to stop her. He stood, swaying from the pain in his leg. But it was nothing to the firestorm of emotions burning in his chest. He hated feeling like this. Out of control. Angry. Panicked. Helpless. She was tearing him apart.

He lashed out blindly, like a cornered beast. “What the hell do you want from me, Janet? Do you realize what this,” he jerked his head toward the rumpled bed behind them, “has cost me? Everything I’ve been fighting for. Is that not enough, or must I cut a vein for you, too?”

She looked stricken; every bit of color slid from her face. Her voice trembled. “I didn’t realize there was a price on something that was freely given. I wanted to please you; I’m sorry if it was not enough. But you need not worry. It need not cost you anything. As I will not be marrying anyone, my innocence—or lack thereof—is not important. You offered marriage, and I refused. You did your duty; if there was any damage to your honor, it is assuaged. There is no reason to say anything to Robert at all. Your position in his army need only be in jeopardy if you choose to make it so.”

As quickly as the anger had risen, it was doused. He barely heard her words, giving him a way out; all he could see was the hurt his careless words had inflicted. He shouldn’t be blaming her. This wasn’t her fault. And he sure as hell hadn’t meant to make what had happened between them feel like some kind of transaction. “Damn it, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I never meant any of this to happen. I was just trying to do my job.”

“And I got in the way. You were just a simple soldier trying to do your duty, and I was—how did you put it?—a complication.” He frowned. That wasn’t what he meant … was it? She was so much more than that. “I’m sorry for making things difficult for you, Ewen. Had you told me the truth, it might not have happened the way it did. But as you took it upon yourself to make those decisions for us both, I’m afraid now you must live with them. You are a fighter; I’m sure you’ll find a way to win everything you desire. It would have been easier—simpler—if we’d never met. And if it’s any consolation, right now I wish we never had.”

Jesus! What had he done? “You don’t mean that.”

The look she gave him told him differently. His skin, which had been feeling unusually hot, suddenly felt covered in a layer of ice.

“And that is exactly why I do. You told me once what you wanted in a wife. I should have listened to you. Maybe this is much my fault. I wanted to make you something you were not. You are not Magnus, and I am not Helen. I hope one day you find a woman who will be content to let you cosset and protect her—think for her. But that is not me.”

She stood and started to walk toward the door.

He liked it better when she was angry with him. This cold, calm, indifferent stranger scared the hell out him. I’m losing her. What can I do?

He felt as if he were falling—flailing—over a mountain without a rope. The hill was steeper, the ice harder and more slippery, and he couldn’t dig in his heels to stop from sliding. “Wait.”

She turned.

“You can’t go.”

For one foolish heartbeat, Janet thought he meant to call her back because he’d changed his mind. That he would fight for them, as hard as she was sure he would fight for the king or his clan. But she was wrong—again.

“I can’t take the chance that you will try to run,” he said.

On the pile of disappointment he’d heaped upon her feet, one more stone shouldn’t make a difference. But it did. The mission. Of course, he was thinking about the mission. Not about her.

Although perhaps he did understand her a little after all. For she had no intention of returning with him to Dunstaffnage. She never should have let him take her away from Roxburgh in the first place. She had to get back. She would not take the risk in missing something important. She would deal with her former brother-in-law and his “plans” for her when she was done.

Janet straightened her back, calling on every ounce of her earl’s daughter blood. Though he towered over her, even from a few feet away, she still managed to give him a long, regal look down her nose. “So I am to be treated as a prisoner?” She held out her hands, crossed at the wrists. “Will you bind me with chains, or will rope be enough?”

Ewen swore. She saw him shift and wince as he put weight on his leg. It was obviously hurting more than he’d let on, but she bit back the words of concern that leapt to her tongue. He hadn’t wanted her help when she’d offered it. He hadn’t wanted anything from her. But just like always, she hadn’t wanted to hear it. She hadn’t wanted to hear “no.” She thought she knew what was best.

At least this time, she was the only one hurt. That is, assuming he didn’t tell Robert. She hoped he wasn’t foolish enough to do so now. There was no reason. He need not lose everything for taking what she’d freely given. She wished she could say the same. For seven and twenty years she didn’t know anything was missing. Now she did.

“Jesus, Janet. It’s not like that. I just don’t want you to do anything … rash.”

He just kept throwing stone after stone. Eventually she hoped they would stop hurting. “How fortunate I am to have you to look out for me.”

“Damn it. I didn’t mean it like that. Will you give me your word you won’t try to leave?”

“Yes.”

He paused, staring at her. “You’ll run the moment I turn my back.”

She lifted her chin, not denying it. “So I am your prisoner?”

His mouth tightened. “You are the woman with whose safety I have been entrusted. I’m not going to let you go.”

A shiver ran through her at his words, but she knew it was foolish to attribute anything meaningful to them. Letting go was exactly what he was doing to her.

“I will fight for us, Janet. Just trust me.”

She’d done that, and look where it had brought her. He was making it perfectly clear what he thought of her: she was a mission—a duty—nothing more. Her voice shook. “I am not sleeping here with you.”

His mouth tightened. “Yes, you are.”

“You are going to have to drag me to Dunstaffnage, for I will not go with you willingly.”

The muscle below his jaw ticked ominously. “If that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”

“I will hate you for it.”

His eyes held hers, and if he had not cured her of illusions, she might have thought she saw true emotion in them. “I hope you don’t.”

Janet knew the battle was lost for now. He would not be dissuaded. He was intractable—a stone wall blocking her path. Suddenly the strength left her. It was as if the events of the day caught up with her all at once. Battered and bruised to the depths of her soul, all she wanted to do was roll up into a ball and cry herself to sleep. But he wouldn’t even give her that.

She looked to the bed, a stab of pain knifing through her. She could still feel him between her legs, the dull ache a painful reminder of what they had shared. “You cannot expect me to share a bed with you?”

He shook his head, looking sadder than she’d ever seen him. “You can sleep on the pallet. I don’t think I’ll be doing much sleeping.”

“The cost of guard duty.”

He didn’t respond to her jab but rubbed his leg unconsciously, as if trying to get a knot out, and winced.

She turned away so she wouldn’t be tempted to care.

“I’m sorry, Janet. I never meant to hurt you.”

But he had. Irreparably.

On her way to the bed, she picked up his shirt and tossed it to him. The naked chest that had only minutes ago given her such pleasure now hurt to look at. He put it on without comment.

She lay down on the bed and he sat before the fire, his back leaning against the wall and his legs stretched out before him. Janet had no intention of sleeping. She crawled under the plaid and watched him from under half-lidded eyes.

He’d retrieved a skin before he sat, and from the long swig he took, she suspected it was whisky.

With any luck, he would drink himself into oblivion.