“Were you happy with your work today?” her father asked.
“I think it has…potential,” she said, and Fergus bit back a groan as the corner of her lush mouth curled. “I can’t be sure yet.”
Teasing wench. Fergus liked her father, but right now he wished that good gentleman to Hades. Then he could seize the lassie in his arms and kiss all the nonsense out of her. At the thought, his hands closed into fists.
“That’s good,” Ugolino said.
“Isn’t it?” she said, and Fergus caught the hint of irony in her answer.
“We’ll leave you to rest, then, signore,” Fergus said.
“Buona notte, Fergus. It’s been a delightful evening.”
It had. And it had also been the vilest torment.
Marina gathered her shawl about her and rose to kiss her father’s cheek. “Buona notte, Papa. We’re making another early start, but I’ll see you tomorrow night. Kirsty said the Reverend Angus is coming to play chess with you, so you’ll have some company.”
“Si, and I’m sure Maggie will be on hand to nag at me.”
“There’s nothing she likes better than a new patient,” Fergus said.
Surely it wouldn’t be too outrageous to take Marina’s arm, as she turned to leave the room. Yet the result was anything but innocent when he curved his fingers around her warm flesh.
How he loved to touch her. With even this constrained contact, he felt the energy pulsing inside her. How she’d blaze when she gave herself to him.
He closed her father’s door behind them and walked the few steps down the corridor toward her room. He lasted about three seconds, before he let go of her arm and pushed her back against the heavy oak door.
She raised her head, and he waited for her to object. After all, he’d promised to save her from scandal, and the servants were due to prepare Ugolino’s chamber for the night and clear away the last of the dinner.
But she threaded her hands through Fergus’s hair, and after a charged second of studying him with those fathomless black eyes, she drew his head down.
All night he’d simmered, half-afraid to look at her, in case he revealed the volcano of desire threatening to erupt inside him. He’d wanted to seize her in his arms and devour her in one bite.
But at the seeking touch of her lips, sweetness tempered his urgency, and he sipped from her as if tasting honey. Tiny kisses that teased her, until she slumped against the door.
He wasn’t feeling too steady himself. One hand settled on her slender waist, the other cupped her jaw, holding her still for more kisses.
She made a smothered sound of encouragement. He lifted away just far enough to speak. “Whisht,” he whispered. “They’ll hear us.”
He nipped at her lower lip. This time, when he kissed her, passion flared and threatened to snap the bonds of discretion. He pressed into that slender body and felt her tremble against him.
Hot darkness rose to overwhelm him, and he struggled to summon the strength to pull away. He closed his eyes and buried his face in the curve of her neck. She smelled like lilies. She smelled like a woman on the verge of surrender.
With a stifled groan, he released her and placed his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head. He gasped for breath and stared down into her unforgettable face.
Marina looked dazed and needy. She leaned against the door, as if she didn’t trust her knees to support her. Desire jolted him as he took in her boneless abandon. She didn’t look at all like the defiant woman he’d met on the road a few days ago. Heavy eyelids drooped over eyes alight with frustrated longing.
“Let me into your room, lassie,” he groaned under his breath.
The pause before she spoke made him hope. Then she gave a small shake of her dark head. “My father is in the next bedroom. I can’t. You know I can’t.”
He bit back another groan. Aye, he knew, but that didn’t make the denial any easier to bear. “Let me in for five minutes, so I can kiss ye properly.”
“You’re a wicked man, Fergus Mackinnon.”
“I’d like the chance to be.”
“You know what will happen if I let you inside my bedroom.”
Aye, he did. She’d end up taking him inside her body. He could hardly wait. He jutted forward until his cock pressed into her belly. It was a blatant demand. He watched her eyes turn glassy and her lips part. He couldn’t resist kissing her again, although every second in this corridor heightened the chance of discovery.
The kiss lasted a mere second, then she pulled free. “Stop it,” she said, although she softened her rebuke with a breathtaking caress along his jaw.
With a quick twist of his head, he kissed her fingers before she lifted them away. “Let me in, Marina.”
When she shook her head, he strove to find comfort in her unconcealed regret.
“No.” As he tilted in again, her hand covered his lips. “Don’t kiss me again. It just gets me all stirred up for nothing.”
“It doesn’t have to be for nothing,” he whispered against her fingers.
She sent him an unimpressed look, as she lowered her hand. With every moment, the melting creature with the sultry eyes was less in evidence. “I’m not giving myself to you when my father is sleeping a few feet away.”
That sounded encouraging. “So when will you give yourself to me?”
“I’m not sure I will yet.”
This time he couldn’t stifle his groan. She giggled, then pressed her hand to her lips and looked horrified. “Papa will hear us.”
“Then come to my rooms.”
“Where do you sleep?”
She hadn’t said no. Did he have a chance? He knew it was reckless to seduce her in the castle. But he’d never been so mad for a woman. “In the south tower. Nobody will disturb us there.”
“Fergus, you know it’s impossible.”
He shook his head. “I know I starve for you.”
Her smile conveyed a great dollop of self-satisfaction. “That’s good.”
He nipped the side of her neck. “You’re enjoying this, you witch.”
She shivered under his teeth. “It’s rather nice to see you toppled off your high and mighty perch.”
He stared at her in frustration, starving for more kisses.
Fear sparked in her eyes. “Stand back,” she hissed, straightening.
It was pure luck that as Kirsty and Jenny approached the turn of the corridor, they were bickering. Hell. That was close. Fergus had been deaf to everything but his desire.
Before the maids came into sight, he stepped away from Marina with a bow. “Goodnight, signorina. I’ll see you early tomorrow.”
She performed a shaky curtsy. “Thank you for a delightful evening, Mackinnon.”
The girls passed with a couple of quick bobs and barely hidden curiosity. Their interest reminded him that much as he’d sell his soul for the chance to share Marina’s bed tonight, he owed her better than to sully her name. More, he’d given his word he wouldn’t.
“We’ll have privacy up on the hills,” he said, once he and Marina were alone again.
Another unimpressed glance. “I’m working tomorrow. I’ll thank you to resist any impulse toward flirtation.”
He almost kissed her for that piece of nonsense, but the girls had sharp ears, and they were only a closed door away. “We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will.” With that enigmatic statement, she slipped into her room and closed the door on him, leaving Fergus to his suffering.
Chapter Eleven
Marina spent a restless night. What little sleep she managed was disturbed by hot, wicked dreams of Fergus stripping her naked, setting her on a bed, and kissing her into a fever. Each time, though, she woke before consummation. Her sexual frustration followed her into her dreams, and the torment didn’t ease when she was awake.
Her eyes scratchy with tiredness, she now sat at her bedroom window watching the dawn rise over the hills behind the castle. Another fine day, when some craven part of
her wouldn’t mind an excuse to stay with her father. If only to put off her decision about becoming Fergus’s lover.
She supposed she could cancel the day’s painting, but Fergus would know why. Somehow admitting her weakness was worse than facing him.
Did she want a lover with whom she waged a continual battle for supremacy? Surely not.
Then she recalled the way she’d melted under those sweet kisses on the hillside. And the delicious conspiracy of kisses last night in the corridor, when discovery had come so close.
She loved her life, she loved her work. Nothing compared with the excitement she found in the Mackinnon’s arms.
Prudence insisted she leave Achnasheen. But could she relinquish this promise of passion?
Once more, when she went downstairs, Fergus waited in the courtyard. Those silvery eyes conducted a thorough inspection, and she was sure he noted the signs of sleeplessness and worry. “Are you ready for another day on the estate, lassie?”
She was ready for Achnasheen. She was far from ready for its master. Still, she nodded and summoned a smile. “I look forward to it.”
His hands didn’t linger at her waist as they had yesterday, but even the fleeting contact as he tossed her onto her pony turned her blood thick and sluggish with yearning. Nor did she mistake the heat in his eyes as he stared at her. Words jammed in her throat. This powerful reaction left her feeling raw and horrifyingly vulnerable. She wasn’t used to it, and she hated it.
Needing to get away, if only for a second, she clicked her tongue at the pony and headed out of the castle before Fergus mounted.
“You’re in a braw rush this morning,” he said, catching up and snatching her pony’s bridle to bring her to a stop. As light spread across the hillside, they sat facing one another like adversaries.
Marina bit her lip and tightened her grip on the reins, not that Fergus was going to let her go anywhere. And wasn’t that a large part of the problem? “I don’t think I can do this.”
A thorny silence descended, before he spoke slowly. “You’re not talking about the paintings.”
“No, I’m talking about…us.”
He looked stern, and a muscle flickered in his cheek. “You’ve spent all night fretting, haven’t ye?”
“Yes,” she admitted in a low voice, staring blindly at her pony’s stubby black mane. “It’s best if I leave tomorrow. I’m sure given the situation, you won’t mind lending me a coach and driver as far as Skye.”
When she glanced up, that formidable jaw had set like granite. “No, lassie, if you’re going, I’ll take ye.”
She made a sound humiliatingly like a whimper. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
He frowned. “You’re no’ frightened of me, are you, Marina? I couldn’t bear to think that’s true. If ye don’t want to share my bed, I’ll accept your choice.”
“Don’t be a fool, Mackinnon.” She blinked away stinging tears. “You know I’m tempted. If I wasn’t so tempted, I could stay. I want to stay.”
His frown darkened. “Then stay, for God’s sake.” He reached for her hand where it held the reins, but she jerked back.
“That only means torture both of us.”
His lips turned down. “The torture will be worse if ye leave me.”
Marina knew what it cost him to make that admission. She shook her head, more in perplexity than denial. “How on earth have we come to this pass? A couple of days ago, I didn’t even like you.”
“I liked you.”
Despite her wretchedness, her lips twitched with reluctant amusement. “No, you didn’t. I offended every ounce of your masculine pride.”
He gave her one of those half-smiles that became so dear. “Ye still do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”
She raised one shaking hand to keep him at bay, although he made no attempt to come closer. “Please don’t be charming. I can’t bear it if you’re charming.” Her voice cracked. “Order me around. Tell me you’re always right. Trample my feelings.”
He looked troubled, although she’d hoped to lighten the heavy atmosphere. “Aye, well, here’s a command for ye.”
“I’m listening.”
Marina braced for him to declare he meant to have her in his bed and after the way she’d encouraged him, she owed him her consent. Shame tasted like acid on her tongue. Her hungry kisses yesterday must convince any man that she was ready to yield.
But when he spoke, he surprised her. “Don’t decide yet. Let’s spend the day as planned.”
Fergus still respected her autonomy. He still respected her. Relief made her sag in the saddle. “Then what happens tomorrow?” she asked in a muffled voice.
He shrugged, although she could see this wasn’t a subject he took lightly. “Tomorrow ye may change your mind about becoming my mistress.”
Her lips flattened. “I can be quite as stubborn as you.”
“I’m sure you can.” His voice deepened into alluring sincerity, and she had to fight against edging closer to that alluring baritone. “I’ve only just found you, Marina. Give me more.”
Her hands clenched on the reins, until her placid pony shifted in protest. She’d never found it so difficult to discourage an unwanted suitor. Perhaps because, in this case, the suitor was very much wanted. “I’ve said I won’t give you anything.”
“I’ll take your company.”
“While doing your best to change my mind.”
He frowned. “While showing you that you can trust me to look after you.”
The awful fact was that she did trust him to care for her, at least on a physical level. What she didn’t trust was her ability to leave Achnasheen as the same heart-whole woman who had arrived. When she saw him in the courtyard this morning, she’d faced the terrifying revelation that much more was at stake here than her chastity. She didn’t trust herself not to fall in love with this impossible man.
Per pietà, she was already half in love with him. Anyone who flicked through the pages of sketches she’d made of him yesterday would see that at a glance.
Fergus Mackinnon wasn’t the man for her. Yet he was the one man who made her burn.
Madonna, even if the impossible happened and he offered marriage, she’d have to refuse. They’d never be able to live together in amity.
“If I stay, you must act only as my host. No wooing. No kissing. No touching.”
He sat in the saddle, straight as a ship’s mast. “You ask too much.”
“I know.” Sadness roughened her voice. “Which is why I must go.”
“No.” Those formidable shoulders tightened, as if he were indeed a general facing an implacable enemy. “I can abide by your rules.”
“Can you?” Marina subjected him to a searching stare. “You don’t like playing by anyone’s rules but your own.”
“Neither do you,” he said, his expression grim. “And in this particular game, you hold the winning hand.”
His bitterness shocked her, scraped a wound across her heart. He sounded as if she did him great injury, whereas she’d assumed that after a bit of grumbling, he’d take her decision in his stride.
She made a helpless gesture. “You said the choice was mine.”
His head tilted in a strangely courtly gesture. “It is at that. But I dinna have to like it.”
Neither did she, curse her level head and her need to protect herself. “I still think I should go ahead to Skye.”
He shook his head, and she waited for a stinging response, but when he spoke, his voice was heavy with regret. “No. Give me your company, even if you’ll give me nothing else.”
She’d imagined his considerable pride would revolt at begging for such a small concession. Cielo, no doubt it did. When she’d met him, he’d struck her as a man above human frailties like doubts and longings. She’d been wrong.
Guilt at how she hurt him sliced at her. She wasn’t proof against the fierce misery she read in his eyes. And he hadn’t tried to take advantage of her susceptibility for him to cha
nge her mind, when they both knew he could.
Fergus was indeed a man of honor. She felt sick at what she did, but if she gave in, the risks were far too great.
Marina looked away across the heather-covered hills and fought against the hot tears rising to sting her eyes. “Very well, Mackinnon. I’ll stay. For now.”
Chapter Twelve
Marina was right about one thing, even if Fergus was convinced she was wrong about everything else. That day on the hills proved to be the vilest torture, and so did the next three.
In a torment of suspense, he waited for her to declare that the tension spinning tighter and tighter between them became unbearable, and she intended to leave. He should want her to go. Having her within reach but forbidden drove him to the edge. His joke about being the first mad Mackinnon came back to bite him with sharp teeth.
Surely if she left, he had a chance of finding some peace. It made no sense that the prospect of never seeing her again made him want to rampage around like a wounded lion.
More than once, he regretted that the world had moved on from ages past. Present mores forbade him from seizing Marina, the way Dougal had seized Fair Mhaire, and holding her captive until she saw sense.
Perhaps the misery might be easier to bear, if he thought Marina was any more content than he was. But with each day, she became more subdued. He missed the vital, scintillating creature who had so fascinated and appalled him on their first meeting. What he’d give to hear just one claim to female independence.
The irony was that this new, dispirited Marina was much closer to the kind of woman Fergus used to admire. Somewhere during this last week, he’d learned to appreciate a challenge.
Tonight they’d dined with Ugolino. Fergus supposed that now the meal was over, he should go downstairs and catch up with the estate work that piled up while he moped after his guest.
Soon she’d decide to go—she must. Be damned if he’d waste what time he had left with her, even if her nearness was sheer purgatory.
The Laird's Willful Lass Page 12
