by Adele Clee
In truth, she did not think the men had any intention of hurting her. They were good husbands and fathers, struggling to keep their larders stocked, desperate to keep their families warm come winter. But they would demand an explanation for her appearance at the farm. Of course, the meeting would take place during the daylight hours. She could not attend. Suspicions would grow and fester.
Lachlan straightened. “I will speak to Ramsey and Fraser in the morning. I’ll explain I saw the real culprit and vow to help them discover the truth.” His gaze drifted over her face before he surprised her by tucking a few loose strands of hair inside her hood. “It’s bitter out. I’d say once the cold penetrates it can be the death of you, but we both know that wouldn’t be the case.”
“You have taken it all rather well.” She tried to listen to his thoughts, but with him standing in such close proximity it took a tremendous effort to focus. “Most ladies dread the thought of a handsome man seeing them with a blemish. You have seen the ugly truth of what I have become, discovered things about me you could only envisage in your nightmares. Yet here you are,” she waved her hand across the impressive breadth of his chest, “acting as though nothing has changed.”
He swallowed, the prominent lump in his throat just visible above the collar of his shirt. “Did I hear correctly? Did you just refer to me as handsome?” A sinful smile touched the corners of his mouth. The glint in his eye reminded her of a time when they were younger, happy.
“Well, you are.” Her indifferent shrug masked her slight embarrassment. “I am only stating what I see.”
He stared at her for a moment. “Your honesty is one of the qualities I always admired, which is why I believed you when you told me you wanted to marry Nikolai. Despite all that has happened you have not changed. You are still the same wild and wilful woman I remember, still the same bewitching beauty.”
Her chest grew tight as all the air left her lungs. She could feel her heart racing, the erratic thumping reaching as far as the apex of her thighs. She still wanted him. More than ever. The years of separation had only served to intensify the feeling. It suddenly occurred to her that if she had to spend hours or days in excruciating pain, then perhaps she should seek a little pleasure.
“I miss our amorous banter.” She moistened her lips at the thought of feeling his mouth moving slowly over hers. “Perhaps you should walk with me. Keep me company.” One of them had to be the first to surrender. “You’ll need your greatcoat, of course. If the cold penetrates, it could be the death of you.”
He smiled. “I assumed you wanted to be alone.”
“I have spent the last three years alone, Lachlan.” When I should have spent them with you, she added silently. “And having you with me will help to distract my mind from all morbid thoughts.”
She sensed his slight hesitance, a thread of doubt, of fear.
He folded his arms across his chest, glanced at his caped coat hanging from the stand near the door. “I suppose someone needs to make sure you stay out of mischief.”
“Come with me because you want to, not because you feel it is your duty.” She moved to walk past him. If he chose not to follow, then she would insist he returned to Carrick Hall.
His warm fingers curled around her wrist. “The night is cold, remember. Give me a moment to ensure I'm suitably prepared.”
They walked in companionable silence through the meadow at the rear of the castle and down to the water’s edge. The sky was clear now, like a sheet of black glass tinged with a faint indigo hue. The crescent moon cast a silver streak over the river’s subdued ripples. All was peaceful, serene, and quiet.
“I could never leave here,” she said with a soft sigh as she bent down and trailed her fingers in the ice-cold water lapping at her feet. “Some people love to travel to distant shores and far off lands. I often wonder what it is they’re searching for. Indeed, it is often easy to forget the beauty that exists around us when we see it daily.”
“Sometimes we must go away to appreciate what we have at home.” His rich, husky tone caused a delightful shiver to race through her.
“You sound as though you are speaking from experience.”
He cleared his throat. “I would say three years spent in the city has proved to be rather enlightening.”
She stood and shook the excess droplets from her fingers before turning to face him. “Do you really believe you will be happy living in Edinburgh? Will you not miss the rugged landscape, the rolling hills that steal your breath away whenever you gaze upon them?” She brought her chilled fingers to her lips and blew on them.
“You should have worn gloves.” He stepped forward, his broad frame swamping her. Without asking for permission he took her hand, covered it with his own and rubbed her fingers. “Everything here is breathtaking. There was not a day that passed that I did not lie awake at night aching to be home.”
Isla swallowed deeply as the heat radiating in his palms travelled up her arms. “Yet still you plan on leaving.” There was a sudden pained tone to her voice that she could not suppress. “You plan on m-marrying a real lady. You’ll find a house in Edinburgh, set up home with your wife and forget all about those you left behind.”
He would be someone else’s husband, not hers — never hers.
He gripped her hand, gazed up at the light sprinkling of stars in the sky and exhaled loudly. “What else can I do?” It was a heartfelt plea. The level of anguish in his tone was unmistakable.
She felt it like a spear to the chest. There were no words she could offer to comfort him, not when her own future lay in the healing ability of a magical elixir. Should anything go wrong, this could well be her last night with him. It would be selfish of her to make promises she could not keep.
The familiar feelings of guilt and regret surfaced, quickly replaced by a hatred for Nikolai and his evil meddling. Frustration flared too. She was tired of avoiding the truth, of keeping it hidden away inside.
Finding a gap through the edges of his greatcoat, she put her hand on his chest. “I too lie awake each night. I wonder what might have been had I never met Nikolai. I know that I will never be whole again because I have lost the only thing I have ever wanted.” She could feel the frantic beat of his heart against her palm. “I have lost you.”
He lowered his head slowly, opened his eyes to gaze deeply into hers. The heat of his stare warmed her to her core. “When you said you wanted to spend the evening as though it was your last, what did you have in mind?”
She shrugged. “I … I imagined walking through the woods, lying on the grass and gazing up at the stars.”
I imagined you would take me in your arms and hold me like you used to do.
“Is that all?” He lowered the hood of her cape, smoothed the strands of hair away from her face. “Was there nothing else you imagined doing?”
She moistened her lips, the action betraying her salacious thoughts. “There was something else. It is the reason I invited you to accompany me.” It didn’t matter that she had the ability to read thoughts. As he bent his head, she knew her wildest dreams were about to come true.
“I’m going to kiss you, Isla.” His warm breath breezed across her lips. “If that is not what you want you must say so now.”
“It is the only thing I want, Lachlan.”
Their lips touched.
Time stopped. There was no past, no future, just the glorious present.
The slow, soft melding of mouths sent ripples of pure pleasure all the way down to her toes. She closed her eyes, inhaled the masculine, earthy scent she had spent many lonely nights wishing she could recreate. He cupped her face, the gesture possessive yet tender. As their mouths moved together, the chaste caress possessed a mystical quality as she drew in the essence of the man to help heal her bleeding heart. The wind whispered through their hair; the stillness of the night cradled them gently in its arms. It was a kiss that soothed her soul.
As their lips parted, she glanced up to see the hazy look of
desire in his eyes.
“Tell me that one sweet kiss is not enough for you.” He panted the words. The calm, sensual air that whirled gently around them was suddenly pervaded by a rush of lustful energy. “Tell me you want more from me, much more.”
Isla gulped, her passion for him almost choking her. “I … I want—” She stopped abruptly unable to contain the desperate need clawing away inside. With a little jump, she threw herself into his arms, threaded her fingers through the hair at his nape and kissed him in such a way that he could never doubt how he made her feel.
A bright and blinding passion ignited.
They had never indulged their desires. To feel such an intense, raging hunger emanating from him caused her knees to buckle. Lachlan wrapped one strong arm around her, crushed her to his chest and ravaged her mouth as though starving for her taste. His tongue tangled wildly with hers, the sensation causing a bolt of desire to strike at the sensitive spot between her thighs. It pulsed and throbbed in a way she had never experienced before. Her breasts felt full and heavy, ached for something more every time she pressed against him.
Oh, how she wanted him.
The need to lay her hands on his bare skin took hold. She imagined his muscular body pushing her down into her mattress. She imagined wrapping her legs around him, taking him deep inside her core and never letting go.
He tore his lips from hers with a loud gasp. “I knew it would be like this. I knew one taste would make me crave you all the more. I’ll not be able to stop kissing you, not now, not ever.”
His words were like sweet music to her ears. “Don’t stop, Lachlan. Kiss me the way I always dreamed you would.”
A low growl resonated from the back of his throat. Grasping the edges of his coat he opened it wide. “Come closer, let me keep you warm.”
She parted her cape, pressed her eager body against his; she felt safe cocooned in his arms. “Make me yours, Lachlan. I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Stay with me tonight.” Only a harlot would be so brazen.
Raining featherlight kisses along her jaw, he whispered, “I was a fool to think I could forget you. Good God, I’ll die if I don’t have you.”
She tilted her head, the velvet touch of his lips brushing over her sensitive skin made her moan with pleasure. “The … the hunting lodge has … has stood empty for years.” The tip of his tongue traced a line down the column of her throat, and she breathed a sigh. “We … we could go there, where no one will disturb us.”
He stopped his wicked ministrations and looked into her eyes. “You are certain this is what you want?” His intense gaze promised a wealth of pleasure and her body sang with eager anticipation.
“I’m certain.” She did not need time to consider his question. The overwhelming need to love Lachlan was the only coherent thought in her mind. “We can spend a few hours there before I must return to the castle.”
The sensual smile that touched his lips made her head spin. Had it not been so cold, she would have forced him to the ground, unable to wait the ten minutes it would take to walk to the old stone cabin.
“Will Douglas not wonder where you are?”
“Oh, he’ll be too busy trying to get the marquess drunk on whisky. Besides, he was standing at the window when we left together. He knows I am safe when I am with you.”
“You think you’re safe with me?” His low chuckle faded only to be replaced with a lascivious grin as he brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You know once we’re alone I plan to ravish you.”
She raised an arrogant brow and thrust her hands on her hips. “I think you’ve forgotten I have the strength and teeth of a wolf. Perhaps I’ll bare my fangs and have you on your knees begging for mercy.”
“Somehow, I doubt it will be mercy I’m begging for.”
Chapter 10
They held hands as they walked through the meadow towards Alistair Maclean’s hunting lodge. Lachlan struggled to slow his pace. His long, purposeful strides conveyed his eagerness to reach their destination, his eagerness to bury himself deep inside the only woman he had ever wanted.
The next few hours of glorious pleasure would be a prelude to hours, perhaps even days, of torturous pain. To protect his sanity, he should not indulge his desires. He could not bear to lose her again. But aside from all the complex emotions he felt when he thought of Isla, his raw need for her had always been constant.
“Will the door not be locked?” he asked as the black shadow of a building appeared on the horizon. His heart hammered in his chest as he imagined closing the door to the world and pleasuring her until she cried out his name.
“I would not make you walk this far if I had no way of opening the door.” She sounded a little breathless. “Are you walking so fast because you fear I will change my mind?”
Was it so obvious?
“Perhaps I’d rather not catch a chill. But if you’re reading my thoughts I suggest you stop there. At the moment, my mind is no fit place for a lady.” Even in the dark he could see that her cheeks flushed a berry red. He did not have the ability to read minds but guessed she was busily engaged in trying to form a witty reply.
“I’m no lady, Lachlan,” she said as they followed the path to the hunting lodge. “I’m a bewitching enchantress, remember, out to seduce men only to sink my teeth into their throats and drink their blood.”
He swallowed deeply at the thought of her warm, wet mouth nuzzling his neck. “Well, I have plenty to spare.” He opened the wooden gate leading to the property, watched the seductive sway of her hips as she walked towards the front door.
Ewan Carrick and Alistair Maclean had spent many a night tucked away in the secluded property. Although they both enjoyed the thrill of hunting, the opportunity to drink and retell their wild stories proved to be much more of a draw. Or so he had gathered from his father’s jovial tales.
He followed Isla into the porch, watched her wiggle a small square stone loose and squeeze her fingers down behind it to retrieve the key. After replacing the stone, she brushed the dust from her hands before holding up the dull-looking iron object.
“Dare you enter the witch’s lair?” The excited twinkle in her eye caused a sudden bolt of desire to shoot through him. His cock pulsed and swelled at the thought of joining with her. “What if I should use my newly discovered ability to compel you to do a whole host of wicked things?”
“Trust me,” he began with a hint of amusement. “You do not need to compel me to do anything. The catalogue of wicked things I wish to do to you is endless.”
He expected her to blush again, but she surprised him by coming up on her toes to kiss him gently on the mouth. “Perhaps I have a list of my own. One equally as long and just as wicked.”
Lachlan swallowed deeply as she stepped away and turned to open the door. Good Lord, he had never felt so consumed with need for a woman. What if three years of longing coupled with the sudden flurry of excitement resulted in a rather premature reaction?
He shook his head to banish the thought and followed her inside.
Isla stopped in the gloomy hallway and handed him the key. “Lock the door behind you. I’ll not feel comfortable until we have checked all the rooms. No one has been here for years.” She nodded to a door at the end of the corridor. “Shall I start with the kitchen?”
Squinting in an attempt to focus in the darkness, Lachlan peered through the open doors leading off the hall. Cobwebs glistened where shafts of moonlight streamed through the window panes. The air smelt stale and musty. He could hear the faint scratching and scurrying sounds of a rodent or two.
But despite the grim conditions, he was determined nothing would dampen his ardour.
He reached for Isla’s hand and pulled her round to face him. “There’s no need to check the rooms. There’s no one here other than a family of mice and a whole host of spiders.” With the tip of his finger, he touched her lips and traced their luscious outline. They were soft and full. He could not resist the urge to probe a fraction de
eper, to where the inside of her lip was warm, moist. “There is nothing to fear. I’ll protect you as I always promised I would.”
She batted her lashes as she looked up at him. As they locked gazes, she ran her tongue slowly over the pad of his finger. Bloody hell. The sudden burst of passion that charged the air between them almost knocked him off his feet. It didn’t matter where they chose to celebrate their union. Indeed, the ragged sound of his breathing drowned out any other noise. The potent scent that clung to her skin filled his head, masking all else.
Without warning, he scooped her up in arms.
“Lachlan.” She shrieked but her tone conveyed excitement.
She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly as he mounted the stairs. The urge to kiss her took hold. He almost missed the top step when he covered her mouth with own. As expected, what began as a simple gesture of ardent affection, spiralled into a blazing inferno of unsated lust.
They did not make it as far as a bed chamber. They stopped on the landing. She practically jumped from his arms in a bid to touch him. He shrugged out of his greatcoat, the heavy garment landing with a thud on the dusty boards. His tailcoat quickly followed. He found her mouth and kissed her again. She tugged at the ends of his cravat, frustration marring her brow when the complicated knot refused to comply with her demands.
“Why won’t it budge?” She pulled it again, stumbling over the task because her fingers were shaking. “Oh, it is a ridiculous piece of apparel.”
He took her hands and brought them to his lips, kissed them tenderly. “Hush, love. I’ll do it. We have plenty of time.”
“I have waited a lifetime to touch you, Lachlan.” Her voice sounded strained as she waited for him to untie his neckcloth. In a matter of seconds, it landed on the floor to join the mounting pile of discarded garments. “I cannot wait a moment longer.”
