The Viper

by Monica McCarty

  “You didn’t act alone, Lachlan. I should never have done what I did.” Her cheeks flushed in the darkness. “It was wrong of me to try to persuade you that way. I didn’t give you a choice to push me away; I wanted to make you weak.” He felt her eyes on his face, as if she could dig the truth out of him. “But I don’t understand. If you love me, why did you refuse to help me?”

  He knew he had to tell her all of it. “You know I have some debts?” She nodded. “Some of the money is for the families of the men who died for me that day.”

  She gasped. Her eyes locked on his. “How much of it?”

  He shrugged uncomfortably. “They had large families.”

  “My God, you’ve been supporting all those people for ten years?”

  His jaw locked. “It’s not enough.” It would never be enough.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? How could you let me think you didn’t care about your duty to your clan? How could you let me make all those accusations?”

  “Because I didn’t want you looking at me the way you are now. I’m not a bloody saint, but I pay my debts.”

  Her eyes widened with horror as she realized all the ramifications. “Oh God, Lachlan, I’m sorry. I swear to you I will find a way to make sure you get your money. If Robert won’t … Somehow, I’ll repay you.”

  He stiffened. “It’s my debt, Bella, not yours. I don’t want your money. I’ll find a way.”

  “But—”

  He stopped her with a finger over her mouth. “No.”

  Her lips pursed. “Do you always have to be so stubborn?”

  He lifted a brow. “Do you?”

  Their eyes met and her frown dissolved into a wry grin. “It would be much easier between us if we weren’t.”

  “Aye, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

  The broad smile that lit her face warmed his heart. “You wouldn’t?”

  He shook his head. “That stubborn pride makes you strong. It helped you survive. It brought you back to me.” He squeezed her harder against him. “I should have protected you.”

  “You did as much as was humanly possible. But no man is invincible—not even you. We were betrayed; there is nothing you or anyone could have done about that.”

  He started to argue, but this time it was she who put a finger to his mouth. “There are no one’s hands I would rather put my life into, Lachlan. No one. I, too, wouldn’t want you any other way.”

  He cocked a brow in silent challenge.

  She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “All right, maybe without the crude language.”

  He winced, recalling some of his more choice offerings. “I’m sorry about the things I said. I didn’t mean them.”

  “I know.”

  “But they still hurt.”

  She nodded, eyes solemn. “A lot.”

  He squeezed her tighter against him, pressing his mouth against the soft silk of her hair. “I’m an arse.”

  Her mouth quirked; she shot him a sidelong glance. “You’re starting to repeat yourself.”

  He smiled. That he had. Sobering, he took her chin once more between his thumb and finger and tilted her face to his. She was so damned beautiful. His heart seemed to have forgotten how to beat. “Have I convinced you?”

  He sounded so hopeful, so eager for this to be over, that if it weren’t so serious she would have laughed.

  Was it possible he loved her? She desperately wanted to believe him. Looking at him it was hard not to. He looked so vulnerable, so uncertain. Two things she’d never thought to see on his face.

  But years of disappointment made it hard for her to trust—especially with something as fragile as her heart.

  Could she let herself love him?

  She felt her heart swell in her chest as she gazed into his eyes, and she knew the answer. What a foolish question! As if she could control her heart. Love happened whether she wanted it to or not.

  Of course she loved him. This man who appeared so hard and uncaring on the outside but on the inside was filled with unexpected depths and contradictions. He was a man who’d bellow at her one minute and wrap a plaid around her the next. Who’d walked away from his clan but had done so out of a fierce sense of duty. A mercenary who’d sold his sword to the highest bidder to care for his clansmen. A man who exuded virility but had punished himself with celibacy for ten years. A man who’d claimed his friends meant nothing to him but would race into a burning building before he’d leave one of them die. A man who’d sacrifice everything he’d worked for to help her.

  She’d loved him for a long time. She just thought she could protect herself by not admitting the truth.

  A bubble of joy spread through her, putting a wide smile on her face. “Not quite yet, I’m afraid.”

  His face fell. He looked so crestfallen, this time she did laugh.

  He frowned. “I’m glad you find this so amusing.”

  “Oh, I do.” She grinned.

  “I don’t know what else to say, Bella. I seem to have exhausted my meager supply of love words.”

  She supposed she should be done torturing him, although she had to admit it was fun watching him wriggle and wince with each word like a lad in church clothes. Clearly, talking about his feelings didn’t exactly come naturally to him.

  She reached up and put her hand on his face, feeling the warmth seep through her.

  “Perhaps you’d better show me, then,” she said softly.

  His eyes raked her face, as if he didn’t quite trust his ears—or his interpretation. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, feeling suddenly shy. “I love you, too.”

  A fierce expression hardened his face. “You don’t have to say that.”

  She smiled. “I know. But it’s the truth.” She paused. “I’ve loved you for a long time, but didn’t want to acknowledge it because I was scared you would never love me back. And then when I thought you’d betrayed me …” Her voice drifted off.

  He stroked her cheek with the side of his finger. “I’m sorry, love.”

  She shook her head. “It’s in the past. All that matters is what we do from here. You’re a hard man to love, Lachlan MacRuairi, but I do believe I’m up to the challenge.”

  “We’ll probably argue.”

  “Aye, it seems likely.”

  “I have a bit of a temper when I get angry.”

  “I’ve noticed,” she said wryly.

  “I can be a mean bastard. I’ll probably say something to hurt you.”

  She laughed. “Are you trying to scare me off?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Maybe.”

  “Well, stop—it isn’t going to work. I’m quite aware of your faults.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t say they were faults.”

  She laughed, reaching up to twist the lock of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead around her finger. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, could she ever tire of looking at him? Their eyes met, and all jesting fell to the wayside. Suddenly, the air fired between them.

  “I thought you were going to try to convince me,” she said huskily.

  He leaned down and kissed her, answering her command with the soft brush of his mouth. A kiss so tender and sweet it took her breath away.

  He tore his mouth away with a pained groan. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never done this before.”

  She would have teased him, but she could see how much this meant to him. He wanted to get it right.

  “Neither have I,” she said softly. Like him, she knew lust, but not love—not tenderness.

  Maybe if she had, her marriage might have been different. Her feelings for Lachlan had given her better perspective on her past and helped her to feel that she could put it behind her, where it belonged. Buchan seemed less the cruel monster of her memories, and more a man to be pitied. He’d wanted her so badly it had become an obsession. Looking back, she could see all the little places her marriage had gone wrong. He’d wanted her to respond, and her defiance only made
him try harder. Until they’d entered a vicious cycle from which neither one of them could break free. They were both too stubborn to admit defeat.

  “You humble me.” His voice was gruff with emotion.

  “And you me,” she said, tears of happiness in her throat. She couldn’t believe this was really happening. That something so wonderful was happening to her. Part of her feared that at any moment, someone would wake her up and tell her that it was all a dream.

  His mouth fell on hers again, and she could feel the force of his emotion running through her.

  It was all the reassurance she needed. She slid her hand around his head, running her fingers through his hair—which was far too soft and silky for a fierce warrior—to bring her mouth more fully against his.

  She opened it, taking in the long, heartfelt strokes of his tongue. A delicious warmth spread through her. She’d never felt so safe. So secure.

  So loved.

  For a man who’d never done this before, he was doing an awfully good job of it.

  He took his time. Teasing her. Tasting her. Stoking her passion one spark at a time. A stroke of his tongue. A touch of his hand. A soft groan of pleasure whispered in her ear.

  Slowly, he eased her down on the ground under him, using the plaid she had wrapped around her shoulders as a blanket.

  He lifted his head. “Are you cold? I gathered wood for a fire. It won’t take me a minute—”

  “I don’t need a fire.” She slid her hand under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin radiate under her palms. He was hot enough for them both. She skimmed her hand over the rigid bands of his stomach. He sucked in his breath as the muscles clenched in response. “You’ll keep me warm.”

  “I don’t want anything between us,” he warned.

  His words only flooded her with more warmth as a flush of anticipation spread over her. Naked. Flesh to flesh. Skin to skin.

  She nodded.

  He began to remove his clothes. She felt she should look away. Surely it wasn’t maidenly to be so interested. But she wasn’t a maiden—and hadn’t been in a long time. So she looked her fill. Holding her breath as piece by piece, his magnificent body was revealed to her bold gaze. Boots, weapons, plaid, leather cotun, chausses, and shirt were shucked off in a pile beside him. Then his hands moved to his waist. Her mouth went dry as he quickly worked the ties of his braies, releasing the hard column of his manhood. It was dark in the fort, but not too dark to see the massive size of him, and to remember how it had felt to take him in her mouth.

  She swallowed, slowly.

  “Keep looking at me like that, lass, and this isn’t going to last very long.” He slid out of his braies, tossing them in the pile with the rest.

  Naked, aroused, every inch of his densely muscled physique bared to her view, he was magnificent. She told him so.

  In response, he kissed her. She could feel his fingers working the ties of her shirt and breeches—she’d donned her lad’s clothes again to travel—and feel his hands skim over her body as he helped her out of her clothes, but his mouth and tongue kept her so busy it wasn’t until he broke the kiss that she realized she was naked. “It’s you who are magnificent,” he said, his voice filled with awe as his gaze skimmed over every inch of her naked flesh.

  She blushed, feeling strangely shy. She’d been naked in front of him before, but this felt different. For the first time, a man’s admiration of her body didn’t bother her. Never had a man looked at her with such reverence—as if she were the most precious, beautiful woman in the world.

  He reached out and gently cupped one of her breasts with his hands, running his thumb over the tight nub of her nipple. “I want to taste you, Bella.”

  She shivered at the husky promise of his words.

  He leaned down, placing a tender kiss on the tip of her breast. She moaned, half-pleasure and half-protest at the all-too-fleeting touch.

  He skimmed his finger over the heavy curve of her breast and down the flat of her stomach, his eyes feasting along the way.

  He kissed her breasts again. Circling the nipple with long, lazy strokes of his tongue, while his hands continued to wreak havoc with her senses, sliding, teasing, trailing a feathery path along her stomach, hips, and thighs, until they finally dipped between her legs.

  He released her nipple, looking into her eyes as he brushed his finger over her dampness. She shuddered, then squirmed as her body flooded with warmth. “Are you wet for me?”

  She moaned, lifting her hips against his hand, silently begging for him to touch her and find out. But still he swept over her. His mouth slid down her stomach, pressing tiny kisses along the trail forged by his hands.

  “I want to taste you right here.” He pressed her intimately with his fingers.

  Oh God. Her breath quickened in anticipation as she realized what he was going to do. What he’d threatened so coarsely to do before.

  Should she stop him? Surely she should stop him. But her body was quivering, throbbing with need. And her hips—her hips couldn’t seem to stay still.

  “Do you trust me?”

  His voice was husky with promise, a dark temptation too powerful to be resisted.

  She could only nod. Words would not form. Anticipation beat in her like a drum.

  He settled his dark head between her thighs, cupping her bottom to lift her hips toward his mouth, holding her gaze the entire time.

  Oh God.

  There would be no shying from this intimacy. But the wickedness, the wantonness, the naughtiness only served to deepen her arousal.

  He seemed to be waiting for some kind of reply. Or maybe he was just prolonging the agony. “Let me love you, Bella.”

  And then he did. Kissing her. Tonguing her. Loving her with his mouth until she no longer knew her name. Until all she could think about was the exquisite torture he was exacting on her. Until the unbelievable sensations became too much.

  She’d never imagined anything could feel like this. The pressure of his mouth. The flick of his tongue. The scratch of his whiskers against the sensitive skin.

  She writhed. Moaned. Trembled.

  He sent her tumbling over the edge, and then sent her over again. She cried out as wave after wave of pleasure spasmed through her.

  He was inside her. Filling her. Taking her with long, tender strokes. Skin to skin. Their bodies melding in a fusion of heat and passion.

  But when she looked into his eyes, she knew it was far more than that.

  It was perfect. With each slow, penetrating stroke, she felt his love for her. And when at last they came together, she heard the words again, echoing in her ears.

  The love and happiness that had eluded her for so long were finally hers. She savored every moment of joy, knowing how hard fought it had been won.

  Hours later, after he’d built a fire, fed her, and loved her once more, she slept entwined in his arms, for the first time in years feeling hope in the promise of tomorrow. With Lachlan by her side, everything was going to be all right.

  Twenty

  Lachlan didn’t like it, but he didn’t have any other choice. He drew the hood of the dark robe over his head and turned back to look at her standing in the doorway. God, he didn’t want to leave her. “I won’t be long,” he said.

  She put her hand on his arm with the unconscious ease of a woman who knew every inch of him and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine. After so many hours in the saddle, it will feel good to move around and stretch my legs.”

  He frowned. He didn’t like leaving her alone, but he didn’t have a choice. He had to scout the convent and find Margaret. She would be safe here for a couple of hours. “Don’t stray too far from the cottage. Though there aren’t likely to be any hunters or poachers at night, there are wild animals in the forest, or you could fall and twist an ankle—”

  She stopped him with a laugh. “You sound like my mother.”

  His jaw clenched. “Damn it, Bella, I’m serious. Just because we’ve made it so far withou
t any problems doesn’t mean we’re safe. We still have to get you in and out of that convent without being seen.”

  Not to mention getting out of England, through the Marches, and back to the safe part of Scotland. His stomach knifed. What the hell were they doing here?

  But she wasn’t listening. Her mind had leapt beyond the “details” the moment they’d reached the outskirts of Berwick. As soon as he’d had confirmation from an informant whom the Highland Guard had used many times before that Despenser’s party had arrived at the castle the day prior, Bella hadn’t been able to sit still.

  On their journey she’d confided more of the details of her imprisonment, including how they used the prospect of contact with her daughter to control her. He knew part of her had been protecting herself in case this was yet one more in a long line of disappointments. Once she’d learned Joan was close, however, there’d been no holding her back.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to see my daughter in a matter of days—maybe as soon as tomorrow.”

  The dreamy smile on her face made his chest tighten. He knew how much this meant to her, and he would cut off his right arm to make it happen, but she was getting ahead of herself. “If I can get you in there.”

  She lifted up on her toes to press an unfortunately chaste kiss on his mouth, which he suspected was merely to soften his frown. “Of course you’ll get me in. It’s a convent, not a heavily guarded castle, and it’s protected by nuns, not soldiers. It will be child’s play for you.”

  Unwavering faith wasn’t something he was used to, and it made him bloody uncomfortable.

  He didn’t know what was wrong with him. So far everything had gone according to plan. But it was an adage among the Guard that the only thing you could count on in a mission was that something would always go wrong.

  So far nothing had. The morning after the storm they’d woken to sunshine. The thin layer of snow hadn’t slowed them down at all, and by the end of the morning had melted. They’d changed horses just south of Edinburgh and made it to Berwick on the fifth day of their journey—nearly a half-day quicker than he’d anticipated. After the quick meeting with the informant to confirm Despenser’s presence, they had gone to the forester’s cottage by the stream that they’d used when they rescued Bella. Best of all, there had been no sign of his Highland Guard brethren.