was messing with her sense of self. She doubted she'd recognize the person she saw in the mirror anymore. She was slightly torn between what she wanted more—-Connor or her pride. Before she had a chance to say anything else, he made the decision for her; Connor scooped her up into his arms and strode through a door she hadn't noticed before.
Connor placed her on her feet next to her bed and stood back to stare at her for a moment. Mackenzie assumed that it was a chance for her to say no, or to tell him to stop, but she gazed boldly right back at him. She didn't want to stop him this time. She could tell when he recognized her assent, that she wasn't going to stop him, because he inhaled sharply and stiffened slightly. He had expected her refusal again, but the look in her eyes was acceptance enough, and he slowly pulled her to him.
He groaned as his head descended to hers, yet his lips were surprisingly gentle. Mackenzie pressed herself closer to him, her hands gripping his upper arms. She wanted the feel of skin on skin. The previously cold air now felt unbearably hot and sultry. The heat that Connor brought with him was seeping through her layers of clothing into her skin. She desperately needed to feel his skin, and he must have felt the same because he had her simple kirtle and gown unlaced and off in one smooth motion while his hands made quick work of her stays.
His lips were on hers before she could slip off her shift, her hands trapped between their bodies as he crushed her to him.
She was clutching the front of his shirt when her knees gave out, but his arms were like steel, and he held her tightly.
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Connor's large hand cupped her bottom, to bring her closer against his bulging arousal, his other had moved up to tangle in her hair. He groaned quietly into her mouth, his rock-hard muscles tightening against her soft skin. He lifted her up and onto the bed, one hand at her waist, the other under her thigh. Connor's weight pressed her into the soft mattress, and she welcomed the solid strength of him. His hand bunched the material at her thigh as he kissed her deeply, moving one hand to the small of her back. He pulled her to a sitting position and pulled it up until he could slip the shift off over her head. Pressing her back into the bed, he dipped his head to the hollow of her throat, and Mackenzie arched her neck back into the pillows. He trailed his lips down her collarbone and found her breast. But he only traced along the valley in between her breasts, then lower to her flat belly, lingering on her belly ring, until his mouth found purchase at the v between her legs. Even though Mackenzie knew what he was going to do, the feel of his tongue darting out to taste her shocked her, and she shuddered in response.
Her eyes flew to his. Connor held her gaze and flicked his tongue out again, and again. Mackenzie moaned and her eyes rolled back into her head. It was the most intimate, erotic moment of her life. Connor's hands gripped her hips to hold her still, and he plunged his tongue inside her. Mackenzie gasped and her hips lifted slightly off the bed. But Connor pressed her back into the mattress and his tongue mated with her in such splendid agony. She wanted more. Mackenzie's hands were clutching the pillow behind her head, and she moved them to Connor's shoulders to pull his mouth back to 169
hers. Instead, he moved his lips to her collarbone, and replaced his mouth with his fingers, slipping one inside Mackenzie. Her fingernails raked down his back, and she writhed against his fingers. He glided it in and out and slipped another finger in. Mackenzie moaned and whipped her head back and forth against her pillow. Connor knew what she wanted, but why was he withholding it?
"Why are you here, Mackenzie?"
Her eyes fluttered, "Huh?" Words made no sense to her right now.
Connor moved his fingers again, and pressed his lips to her throat, "What is it you want from me?"
"I...oh God, Connor...I want..."she squirmed against his hand, "this, you, oh I want you..." She clenched her thighs around him.
"Why are you really here?" she could feel the movement of his lips against her skin and the warmth of his breath as he spoke. It both tingled and aroused.
"I want," her eyes were dazed, and she ran a hand over her face, "umm...I want to help you..." His fingers never stopped and she was so close; what was he doing to her? "I can help..." So close... "Oh I can't think...I can distract him...buy you time to kill him...oh please Connor!" Mackenzie was pressing his hand tightly against her, pleading through dazed eyes.
Connor flicked his thumb across her swollen bud and gave her the release she so desperately craved. As she shuddered and stilled, Connor shrugged out of his clothes with a wicked smile playing about his lips, "I'm no' finished with you yet."
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Mackenzie didn't even have time to ponder his words; she barely caught a glimpse of his glorious naked body, before he plunged into her with one swift stroke. Mackenzie bit her lip to keep from crying out. It hurt. A lot. It was as if he was trying to split her in two. Was it supposed to hurt this much?
But then Connor moved, and oh, it felt so wonderful. He filled her, as he sheathed himself to the hilt. And when he lifted almost all the way out, she pressed her hands to the small of his back to bring him back down. It was unnecessary; he'd already plunged down into her again, and again, and again.
He took her with long, deep, slow strokes, as if he could spend the whole night doing only that. She was climbing up, higher and higher. Mackenzie thought that she couldn't take it anymore. Connor's mouth claimed hers as she felt that first glorious wave of ecstasy hit. Then another, and another until she exploded and it felt like she was falling. She could feel Connor driving himself into her over and over until she felt his pulsing release as she fell back to Earth.
There was something timeless about being in a castle with Connor. It made her think of all of the men and women who had and who would make love in this room. She was a girl out of her own time, but feeling like she belonged nonetheless.
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Chapter Fifteen
Connor was speechless. He'd never before felt this kind of intimacy with another woman. He traced his fingers down her back, they were still joined, not wanting to move yet. But Connor rolled his weight off her and tucked her into his side, while their breathing slowed. He had never wanted to hold a woman all night long, but he felt that with her, he could do just that and enjoy it. Hell, he felt as if he could hold her in his arms forever. He wanted to. He'd known that it would be good with Mackenzie, the explosive passion between them left little doubt, but what they had just shared was amazing. It wasn't just the sex, but he'd felt a wholeness, a completeness, he couldn't quite define. What he had just experienced with Mackenzie made him feel like he'd been missing something with every other woman he'd lain with.
He'd once told her she'd never crave another man's touch, but in reality it was he who would never want another; Connor wanted only her.
It was all so new and fascinating, and frustrating...his life had been so clear before; clan chief, marry suitable girl, have heirs. Simple. And now it was muddled. He was confused. He still trailed his fingers gently up and down her side, from hip to shoulder. She had her hand idly tracing designs on his chest. Her touch was almost pleasure personified. He felt himself harden, and thought that this next time would be even more intense, since he could devote himself strictly to the act.
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And besides, now he had his answers. He was finally starting to believe she might be an innocent in all this.
Nothing made sense, though, not her story, not the story from the man sitting in a cell downstairs, and not his own thoughts, which were now envisioning Mackenzie having a place in his home, and dare he think it? His heart.
"Is it always like that?" Her soft query snapped his brows down over his nose.
"Nay, no' always." Never for him. Why would she ask something like that? Unless she was...No. It wasn't possible.
She couldn't be. The way she dressed belied any innocence.
Add that to her behavior, and her connection to the Campbell... He propped himself up on one
elbow, so he could more fully see her expression. "Mackenzie, were you a virgin?"
Her eyes dropped from his, but he noticed the flash of hurt in their green depths first. She was quiet for a long time.
"Was I not...good?" Her voice broke on the last word.
He inhaled sharply and said, "Is that what you are thinking about? That I wasn't satisfied?" He didn't mean to sound angry, but it was a ludicrous thought in the face of what he'd just done. He had wanted her as he'd wanted no other, but if he'd known she was a maid, well, he would have tried to dredge up some self-control. He'd thought he was bedding his enemy's wife. And while he had feelings for her that he didn't want to think about, it was still no more than scratching an itch. At least, that's what he'd told himself. And whilst her connection to the Campbell was far from cleared up, however, 173
he now knew that she was a maid, or at least had been. He frowned.
He saw one tear slip out from her closed eyelid, and slide down her cheek. Catching it with his thumb, he silently castigated himself for not taking more care with her. He had no experience with maidens. He'd recklessly taken his own pleasure; he must have hurt her at some point. "Och, was I too rough with you, lass?"
Her eyes opened wide and met his briefly, before lowering again. "No. No, nothing like that."
She must be lying, but why? Why didn't she say what she was surely thinking? That he was a barbarian for taking her maidenhead like that. She deserved better. His thoughts were suddenly fierce and possessive. She deserved better than the Campbell. He could only imagine how her soft, beautiful body would be treated. Not to mention her spirit. The anger rolled off him in waves. Mackenzie sat up and faced away from him.
He stared at her back. Connor was momentarily distracted by the colorful flowers painted onto her lower back. He'd never seen anything painted onto someone's skin. It was strange and beautiful. He reached out a finger and gently traced the petals. Mackenzie stiffened. Of course. He pulled his hand back; she must hate him so much now that even his touch disgusted her. It was understandable. He hated himself at the moment.
"Are you hurt?"
Mackenzie turned bright eyes to look at him, and had an even brighter smile on her face. "I'm fine." And she stood, pulling her sark over her head.
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"Doona lie to me." Connor was anxious to know what she was thinking.
Her face crumpled, and she turned quickly to avoid his probing gaze.
"If you are hurt, please tell me." His voice was strained.
Connor stood as well, and turned her back to face him, his hands at her shoulders. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Oh, what a rogue he'd been! He crushed her to him tightly, "Please doona cry."
She mumbled against his chest, "I'm not hurt."
He pulled back slightly so he could look at her. "I doona understand. Why are you crying?"
"I'm not." Her watery denial was pathetic.
"Close enough." His voice was curt now with the anxiety of watching her cry. Christ, he hated a woman's tears.
"It's nothing, really." This soft, tremulous assurance did nothing to help ease his anxiety.
"Tell me, please," his voice was rough with emotion.
"It's just, I mean, I know that it wasn't the same for you, but, it was amazing for me, and I know that I'm not experienced with these things, but..." Mackenzie couldn't finish; she bit her lip and looked at her hands on his chest.
Connor brushed his thumb under her lip until her teeth let go. His heart was beating erratically from this newfound emotion. And as gently as he could, he said, "I am sorry that I hurt you. Please know that I am just as revolted with myself as you must be." His thumb and forefinger gripped her chin and forced her gaze to meet his. "I did no' mean to hurt you."
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"I know. I'm not hurt." Mackenzie looked surprised at his apology.
She was so frustrating. Of course he'd hurt her. Why wouldn't she just say what she was thinking? He sighed mentally and asked instead, "Why did you no' tell me you were a maid?"
Mackenzie's eyes dropped and stayed fixed on her hands,
"You wouldn't have believed me."
The softly spoken remark stung. It was true, but it still hurt.
"You're right." It pained him to choke out the words. He had to make her understand. But understand what? He didn't really understand himself what had happened to change his feelings for her so swiftly. Mackenzie didn't know that this had been more for him, but he didn't want to think about that when she was obviously upset about the whole thing. Her wide, guileless eyes finally met his, and they looked concerned. But concerned about what?
"Are you alright?" Her voice showed no hint of anger.
She was concerned about him? That was surprising. She never did what he expected. Maybe that was some of the draw to her, that unpredictability? Whether she was who she said, or not, she was unlike any woman he'd ever known. Or maybe the attraction was in knowing that she belonged to another, he really didn't have an answer.
He looked into her concerned eyes, and said, "Nay, lass, I'm no' alright. I'm ashamed to have treated ye such." She had given herself to him so fully, and he'd treated her as if she were just some conquest to warm his bed.
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Surprise flashed on her features momentarily, but was quickly replaced with understanding. "Oh, I'm okay." Her eyes searched his. "Is that really what you're thinking about?"
"Aye. Aren't you?" She should be. He'd behaved odiously towards her.
"No, I..." she broke off and flushed.
"What? Please, tell me what you are thinking."
"I..." she cleared her throat, pasting a bright smile on her face, "I just wanted you to know that I really am fine." She paused before continuing, "And that it was incredible for me."
Connor smiled slightly at her soft admission. He could tell that wasn't what she'd been planning on saying, but he let it go.
He didn't want to see the hurt return to eyes.
"Why dinna you tell me you were a virgin?" he asked again, desperate for an answer.
"I don't know...it never came up. 'Hey how's the weather?
By the way I'm a virgin.' It doesn't quite flow into conversation, now does it?" Her eyes were teasing him.
He chuckled, and relaxed; this time the smile on her face was authentic. "Well, at least I ken you've never lain with the Campbell." Another chuckle slipped out. "Verily, he'll be furious when he finds out I've bedded his betrothed."
Mackenzie stilled. "What?"
Connor looked confused. "What?"
Her breath stopped, and her eyes lost their teasing light.
"Is that what this was for you? Some perverse test?"
Mackenzie's breathing started up again with a sharply indrawn breath, and her eyes narrowed. "Or is it just about 177
who can 'bed' me first? Wow. Well, congratulations, Connor, you win. You beat the Campbell."
"Nay, I..."
Mackenzie pulled out of his embrace and stepped backwards a few paces. Connor reached for her, but Mackenzie skittered back as if his touch might burn her.
"Don't you touch me!" Her voice rose with the hysteria she was trying to suppress. Her eyes were wild, but they cooled and narrowed with understanding, and she sucked in a quick hiss of air. "Is that why, before, when you asked me my purpose here? Oh that's rich. You're a cruel man, Connor MacRae. I'm so outta here."
Mackenzie picked up her gown and slipped it over her shift, the hell with the stays. The hell with him! All she wanted was to be away from him. Before Connor could reach her, Mackenzie had bolted out the door. Cursing her fingers for being so clumsy with the laces, Mackenzie ran through the hallway holding the gown to her chest.
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Chapter Sixteen
She didn't know where she was running, just that she needed out. Out of the castle, out of everything. Mackenzie wanted to go home. She ran through the art gallery where she'd first seen
Connor in the painting. The room was so familiar, and yet slightly different. She paused at the tapestry where Morvern and Gregor had revealed the secret tunnel.
The secret passage! Mackenzie excitedly reached for the medallion she wore around her neck, thinking only of going home. Oh, right, she'd thrown it at Connor. Well, she'd try the passage anyway. She felt around for the lever, and it swung open. Yes! As soon as she took her first step in, she released her hold on the gown to feel along the wall for the exit tunnel.
She'd only taken a few tentative steps in the dark passageway when a pair of hands pressed her roughly against the wall. Connor! He'd obviously caught up with her.
"And where do you think you're going?" he breathed against her ear. Gripping her shoulders, he turned her around to face him, and as dark as it was in the tunnel, Mackenzie could see his eyes; they were snapping angry darts at her.
"Well?" he demanded.
"I'm leaving." Mackenzie squeezed her eyes shut and chanted There's no place like home, there's no place like home to herself.
If he was surprised, he hid it well. He barked a short laugh. "And where would you go? To the Campbell?"
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Mackenzie opened her eyes and lifted her chin, "As if you care."
His eyes turned liquid. "Aye, I care, lass." His voice had lowered and his soft burr caressed her. "You're mine now, sweeting."
"I am not yours, like a piece of chattel!" Mackenzie fumed.
"I belong to no one!" She glared mutinously at Connor.
Connor dipped his head, and trailed his lips from her neck to her shoulder where her unlaced gown had slipped down.
Curse her inability to dress herself in these complicated gowns! Curse her traitorous body for warming to his lips!
Curse Connor! Her head fell back against the cool stone wall as he reached her collarbone.
"Mine," he repeated against her decolletage.
Mackenzie's eyes flew open. "Bastard," she breathed. She could actually feel his lips curve into a smile against her skin before he straightened up.
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