The Lass Who Loved a Beast

by Lee, Caroline

  But…nay.

  Nay, this wasn’t some whore, or a jaded lass eager for a rough tumble and a story to tell her friends about the Beast of the Oliphants.

  This was Bonnie.

  With a groan which almost matched his earlier one, he forced himself to release her and set her away from him.

  Her hands were shaking as she lifted both sets of fingertips to her lips. Not in shock, but in…awe? The dazed look in her eyes as she touched herself gently made it seem as if she were marveling at the kiss they’d just shared.

  As was he.

  Breathing heavily, he half-turned away from her, planting one hand on her hip and squeezing his eyes shut, trying to get his heart—and his cock—under control.

  “My goodness.”

  Mutely, he nodded at her assessment of what they’d just shared.

  But apparently, she was speaking of something else. “Nae wonder ye prefer to wear kilts.”

  Frowning, he tilted his head and opened his eyes, to see her staring down at the front of his kilt, which was tented ridiculously. Perhaps he shouldn’t have stood in profile.

  Cursing softly, he turned to face her, although that didn’t seem to help. Her attention was still on his cock, and her eyes were now sparkling with wicked contemplation.

  “That wouldnae fit so well in trousers, would it?”

  He knew he was a large man—large all over—but it wasn’t as if he’d never worn trousers. “I manage, somehow,” he growled.

  Her smile bloomed again as she dragged her eyes up to meet his. “That was my first kiss, ye ken.”

  Gruffly, he nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldnae have—”

  “I’m no’ sorry, no’ at all. It was magnificent.”

  It really had been, hadn’t it?

  But he was still a gentleman, despite his reputation. “If ye want to leave, since I attacked ye, I’ll arrange—”

  Again, she interrupted him. “Are ye mad?” Her smile belied her insult as she darted forward to twine her fingers through his. “After ye’ve given me access to this glorious library? And I cannae leave, no’ until ye sketch the medieval embroideries for me—I mean, for my book.”

  He stared down at her, unable to believe this woman, this glorious lass, was real. “Even the one with the, ye ken…the fellatio?”

  Her wink didn’t quite take him by surprise. “Especially that one.” And then she was tugging him toward the door. “Come along! We need to fetch yer paper and pens!”

  Weakly, Lyon followed. He suspected, despite knowing exactly how bad he’d be for her, he’d follow Bonnie Oliphant anywhere.

  Chapter 5

  “This is my favorite part because we get to see how strong they really are.”

  “What do ye mean, Willa?”

  “Well, when… Oh ye ken!”

  “Speak up, lass! Nae need to whisper!”

  “Well…everything’s going swimmingly, aye? But this is the point in the story where the rug is going to get yanked out from underneath her.”

  “That’s a metaphor, is it no’? I dinnae understand metaphors.”

  “Ye dinnae understand a lot of things, Grisel.”

  “Sisters, what Willa means is that Lyon has just shown Bonnie he’s beginning to care for her, and everything should be going wrong just…about…now.”

  * * *

  The morning after Lyon gifted her the joy of the library, Phineas Prince returned.

  Part of Bonnie was relieved to see him since the dress she’d been wearing all this time would shortly be able to stand up on its own. She’d been changing her chemise and drawers daily, with ones a blushing Keith had delivered to her, but there was only so much to be done with a bowl of water and a towel.

  But the rest of her—and it was by far the larger portion—felt like screaming with frustration when Phin stepped into the cozy little breakfast area with a rueful grin. “I let myself in since ye’re all down here. Are those kippers?” he asked as he seated himself.

  Bonnie’s heart sunk into her stomach, and she pushed her plate away, her eyes darting up to meet Lyon’s. There was a look in those hazel depths very much like regret, and she prayed he wasn’t regretting what they’d shared yesterday.

  Because that kiss…?

  That kiss had been the most magnificent of her life.

  Alright, it had been her first kiss, so perhaps that wasn’t saying much, but Bonnie knew, no matter what the rest of her life held, she’d never experience another kiss so profound, so toe-curling, so wonderful, as the one he’d given her last night.

  That is unless her next kiss was with him as well.

  And all yesterday, she’d subtly tried to convince him to kiss her again. But, being Bonnie, subtlety wasn’t her strong suit. The flirting and preening which came so naturally to her sister Vanessa felt false and wrong when Bonnie did it. When she touched her neck, the way Vanessa did, hoping to draw Lyon’s attention to her bare skin, or when she batted her eyelashes at him, he asked if she was feeling well.

  She didn’t know a lot about flirtation, but she suspected coming right out and asking a man to kiss ye was considered improper.

  Damn it.

  All yesterday, Bonnie had asked herself if she cared what was considered proper, if doing the opposite would result in another kiss from Lyon. But ultimately, she took the coward’s way and tried subtlety. Which hadn’t worked.

  But she was rewarded with a beautiful day spent in his company, so that was nice. Instead of kissing, the two had spent time in the library and his study, where he sketched the two tamest pieces of needlework, and he really was remarkably good at reproduction.

  He had knelt in front of the hearth and built the fire, and she hadn’t had to pretend she wasn’t admiring his arse. Then he’d settled into one of the plush chairs with a pair of books on mechanics, while she’d darted around the library, collecting stacks of books which intrigued her.

  And when she plopped into the opposite chair, twelve unrelated tomes balanced on her lap, he looked up and met her eyes. Miracle of miracles, he’d smiled.

  She knew she’d hold the memory of that smile in her heart as long as she held the memory of that kiss.

  But now Phineas was there to take her away.

  “I’m sorry,” he was saying as he served himself, “I delayed as long as possible, but the roads are completely passable now.”

  Bonnie caught Lyon’s eyes, but he winced and looked away.

  Did he regret the time they’d spent together? Was he looking forward to her leaving so he could get back to his normal life?

  Was the wince because he wanted her gone?

  “I’ve let yer sister think ye’ve been with me all this time, Bonnie.” Phineas was enthusiastically cutting up a sausage. “Roland wouldnae care to ken ye’ve been stuck at Oliphant Castle with Lyon during a blizzard, but ye ken how Vanessa is.”

  Numbly, Bonnie nodded. Aye, her sister would likely do her best to convince the world Bonnie had been compromised beyond hope, merely to force poor Lyon to marry her.

  Marry Lyon.

  Her chest tightened at the thought. She imagined what it would be like to spend her evenings in that library, or to go with him to the loch to bathe. She imagined running her publishing business from his study and sharing more wonderful kisses.

  Sharing his bed.

  He’d touch her then, touch her with those beautiful hands which had brought her such pleasure for so short a time. She’d come apart in his arms, each night, because—

  Nay. She hadn’t come here to marry Lyon Prince, and there was nothing—nothing—in his actions during the last days which conveyed he wanted to marry her.

  That kiss didn’t count. She’d been doing her best to tease him after all, and to push him into doing something so delightful. He’d likely only kissed her because she was there and practically offering herself to him. Oh, and because he’d lost the chess game.

  “This food is delicious!” Phineas reached for another helping. “Yer cook h
as certainly improved.”

  “Nay, we just got a new one,” offered Keith. “Mrs. Oliphant from the village.”

  “Of course.” Phineas glanced at Lyon, who had crossed his arms over his chest and was now glaring at his untouched food. “So…um.” He cleared his throat and glanced at Bonnie. “Will ye be ready to go after breakfast?”

  Would she? Would she ever be ready to go?

  She willed Lyon to look up and meet her eyes. It must’ve worked because he did.

  And when he did, she pressed her lips together and tried to silently ask him the question she needed an answer to.

  * * *

  Lyon could see the question in her eyes and knew the answer she wanted.

  She wanted him to ask her to stay. The way she’d responded to his kiss last night told him that much. She’d made herself at home in his castle over the last few days.

  Nay. She’d made it a home.

  They’d worked together, side-by-side, on their various pursuits. They’d played chess in his study. They’d read together in the library, sharing interesting facts they’d learned as they leafed through each book. She’d laughed as he tried to help her cook; the scents of their endeavors wafting around them both.

  And she’d stood in his arms, feeling oh-so-very-right.

  Something had happened in the last few days, something unexpected. He’d loved Rose, aye, but the way he felt about Bonnie…?

  Well, it certainly wasn’t love. It couldn’t be love. He couldn’t love another woman, because then she’d be at risk. And he liked Bonnie too much to risk her future.

  But…something had happened in the last few days. The connection they had, the closeness, seemed almost…magical. Lyon dropped his gaze to the sausages, scowling. Perhaps there was something in the food.

  He was silent for too long apparently, as Keith cleared his throat. “Lyon?”

  It took a moment to gather the courage to face the disapproval he knew he’d see in the younger’s man’s face, but when Lyon eventually lifted his gaze, it was to see Keith exchanging a wince with Phineas.

  The two men might also be brothers, but they had little in common. Hell, for that matter, Keith—with his cheerful attitude and constant wit—had little in common with Lyon. But he was still his best friend.

  Right now though, he could tell neither Keith nor Phineas approved of Lyon’s hesitation.

  Well, to hell with them! They didn’t have to live with the crippling guilt—the crippling pain—which had come after he’d failed to save Rose! He didn’t ever want to be in that situation again!

  So he met Bonnie’s eyes and tamped down the guilt which rose when he saw the unspoken plea in her gaze.

  “I’ll get yer manuscript together, and the sketches I made for ye.”

  Her expression fell into disappointment. Lyon didn’t bother muffling his curse as he pushed away from the table and stood. Once upright, he glanced at his brothers, both of whom were looking at him as if he were an idiot, and he nodded stiffly.

  Then, ignoring the way tears were gathering in Bonnie’s eyes, he turned and fled the room like a coward.

  His dreams were haunted by Rose’s screams. He was already cursed. Sending Bonnie away wasn’t going to curse him any worse.

  This was the right decision. It had to be.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, milady. He can be an idiot.” Keith smiled softly at her as he handed her the case with her manuscript. “He cares for ye, I ken it.”

  Her lips twisted wryly as she tucked the case under one arm. “That is hard to believe, my friend, what with him sending me away like this.”

  “He’ll regret it.”

  Her smile turned sad. “That willnae help, because the deed will be done.” Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on Keith’s shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. It was awkward, and quick, but she felt him exhale as if a decision had been made.

  When they both straightened, she gave him a firm nod. “Take care of him please, Keith.”

  “I promise, Bonnie.” His voice was rough, and he shoved his hands behind his back as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “And ye take care of yerself too, alright?”

  “I promise. Give my regards to Mrs. Oliphant, whose soup I will remember fondly.”

  His smile seemed genuine now. “I will.” Then he cleared his throat and looked over his shoulder, before stepping back.

  Instinctively, Bonnie followed his gaze up the front steps of the keep. Lyon stood there, looking magnificent in his kilt and boots and jacket. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, and Bonnie wasn’t at all sure how she’d be able to walk away from him.

  Stifling a sigh, she turned away, stepping toward the light carriage Phineas had driven over from his estate. He was seated on the bench, looking awkward as hell as he glanced between her and his oldest brother. When she lifted the wooden case to him—the case which held her precious work and the sketches Lyon had made for her—he suddenly seemed to remember his duty and leaned sideways to take it from her.

  There. That was out of the way and out of her hands, and only one thing remained…

  When she turned back to the front steps, Keith was gone, but Lyon had suddenly appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a mere arm’s length from her. Had he rushed down because he’d thought she was leaving without a word to him?

  Why was he wearing that worried expression?

  This was his decision, was it not?

  She took a deep breath and stepped toward him. He actually stepped back, but then seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped himself. His scowl deepened as he moved forward again.

  And she tried not to be hurt, but really? He was scowling at her, as if this were somehow her fault?

  Surely she’d made it clear she’d enjoyed their time together.

  Well, she didn’t want him to remember her as a weeping weakling, even if that’s what she felt like right now, so she lifted her chin and tried a small smile.

  It didn’t work, but at least she was trying, and that was important.

  “Goodbye, Lyon,” she said softly.

  And somehow, impossibly, his scowl deepened. Good heavens, he was angry, wasn’t he?

  She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm. Thanks to the weather, she wore her winter coat and gloves, but he was wearing only his informal jacket. Still, that was three layers of material between her skin and his.

  So why could she feel his heat so clearly, so perfectly?

  His opposite hand rose, reaching for her cheek, but froze, inches away. She found herself already leaning toward his hand, his touch, craving the feel of his skin against hers, one last time.

  But nay. He didn’t want that.

  His nostrils flared as she watched the inner battle warring behind his eyes. Then he dropped his hand and stepped back, away from her touch.

  “Goodbye, Bonnie.” His voice was harsh, gruff, and so much like the Lyon she’d met when she first arrived—before he’d shared so much with her, before he’d kissed her—that her eyes filled with tears.

  Trying to hide them, she turned and reached blindly for the carriage, and managed to hoist herself inside without any help. She focused on struggling to pull the blanket over her lap, and only vaguely heard Phineas cluck the team into motion.

  And then she was leaving the courtyard, and Oliphant Castle, behind her. She curled her fingers around the edges of the seat to ground herself and to hold herself steady.

  To keep herself from turning around and seeing the man she loved letting her go.

  Chapter 6

  “Oh dear, oh dear. Willa, ye were right. That rug was definitely pulled right out from under poor Bonnie’s arse.”

  “Frazzum flit!”

  “Nay, it’ll be alright, because even though they both think it’s hopeless, we ken otherwise. Right, Broca?”

  “Right. Good lass, Willa. Ye’re learning. Aye, we’re orchestrating this story more’n a bit, eh? And every good romance needs t
hat bit where both of them think the situation’s hopeless, and they just have to get on with their lives as best they can.”

  “But how’s Bonnie going to manage that? She needed the art from Oliphant Castle—”

  “Willa, dear, she has the sketches Lyon made her—not the naughty one, do stop giggling, Grisel—to accompany her book. I imagine she’s going to be focusing on getting that published soon, Broca?”

  “According to my notes, aye. She has to move along the external plot after all.”

  “Hmm. And I can just imagine Lyon’s reaction to that.”

  * * *

  “Look, some of us have actual work to do! I dinnae need ye to hang over my shoulder and criticize me!” Bonnie threw down her pen and glared up at her stepsister, who was standing with her hands on her hips beside the small desk in the room Bonnie had taken.

  Ember shrugged. “Today is my day away from work. When Vanessa said I needed to come because ye were moping, I kenned it must be serious.”

  “I’m no’ moping,” Bonnie moped.

  With a groan, Vanessa lowered herself into one of the chairs beside the window; the sun reflecting on the snow making the light bright enough to need to squint when Bonnie glanced at her.

  “I’m working as well. It isnae my fault ye cannae see it. It’s hard work, making the next viscount.”

  Bonnie met Ember’s eyes, and from the way her sister’s lips were pressed together, it was clear she was trying hard not to laugh as well. Although Vanessa’s gently rounded belly was barely visible, she was absolutely milking this “being pregnant” thing as much as possible.

  “Hand me my tea, would you, Ember dear?”

  Bonnie planted her elbows on the table and began to rub at her temples, as Ember crossed to the tea tray to fix a cup of tea for their sister. They’d been raised in the same house, but after Ember’s father had died, Mother had slowly changed the poor girl into a sort of unpaid servant. It had never been right, but Bonnie was ashamed to admit she hadn’t noticed until it was too late as she was lost in a book more often than not.