by Mary Wine
Quinton crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve offered ye more.”
“Aye, that’s true, and then ye nearly had me clamped back into yer prison solar for refusing to go and find me supper before the last midwife who came to see me was dealt with.”
He drew in a deep breath, obviously fighting for control. “All right. I understand why ye were late to supper.”
“But ye are no’ offering me an apology.”
He gritted his teeth. “What do ye want from me, Deirdre?”
“The same thing ye are so furious over no’ receiving—respect.”
His forehead furrowed with confusion. “I set ye above every Cameron woman today.”
She nodded. “That’s trust, and I am grateful for such. Happy even, this morning, so much so I made sure I did nae place my own comfort above the duty ye allowed me to take responsibility for.” She shook her head. “But that is nae respect.”
“We have no’ had enough time together for respect to grow, Deirdre.” He tempered his tone now, the anger fading from his eyes.
“It will never grow without ye learning to trust a woman again. Ye are no’ the only person in this chamber who has been played falsely by the person they thought to wed. Ye’ll have to trust me no’ to leave, even though the chance is mine, or we have nothing.”
He drew in a deep breath. “We have plenty between us—plenty of heat.”
He closed the distance between them and cupped the sides of her face with his hands, but she flattened her fingers against his lips to prevent his kiss from clouding her judgment.
“Desiring me and respecting me are two separate issues, Quinton. I will never be content to stay with ye if I cannae trust ye to want more from me than the passion ye share once we are in bed.”
His hands dropped away, and she could see him battling to understand her. But he shook his head and stalked away from her.
“I swore I’d never let another woman into me heart, Deirdre. Ye’re seeking affection, and that is something I can offer no woman. I can give ye much, though, tenderness and a position that will be as good as the one ye sought with the queen.”
The words were torn from his soul, but it felt like they were ripped from her heart.
“If that is how ye feel, it is time for me to return to my father’s house.” She had to push the words out, past her longing to remain with him, because she knew separation would tear her in two.
Quinton stiffened. “No.” He made a slashing motion with his hand. Deirdre propped her hands back on her hips.
“I sneaked past yer men once. What makes ye think I cannae get a letter to my father if I wish it?” Casting a challenge at his feet in his present mood wasn’t the wisest choice she might have made, but she was too hurt to rein in her words. “I’ll no’ stay with a man whom I do nae want to stay with. I have no’ agreed I am yer mistress. That is my choice alone.”
Quinton chuckled at her, but it was not a kind sound. He stepped up to her, looming over her while his eyes narrowed.
“I am yer lover now, lass, and ye consented to it. That was one of yer options, was it nae ? I like having ye in my bed quite well. Summon yer father here, and I’ll be happy to complete the business of making ye me wife, so ye will have nowhere else to hide from me and warming me bed will be yer duty.”
She stepped back, pain gripping her heart.
“What bothers ye, Deirdre? Did nae ye begin this entire game looking for a better catch than yer father contracted for ye? Well, here I am, ready to give ye what ye seek. Be satisfied and cease this struggle between us.” His face was set into an ugly expression that horrified her with just how greedy he was accusing her of being.
“That is no’ how I came to yer bed. I never used yer desire to try to secure yer title for myself. I am no’ a whore who looks for the price she will earn for her favors. Ye are mean beyond belief to say such a thing to me.” She shook her head. “Ye are no’ the man I took as my lover. If ye use my father to force me to wed ye, I swear ye shall have only cold submission in yer bed.”
“But ye said ye left to take a position that would bring honor to yer father, Deirdre. Is that nae what ye swore ye were about when ye sneaked past me gate?” He grunted. “Well, I’m offering ye a position that will please him.”
“I never intended to earn my place by prostituting myself. That isna what lovers are.”
She lost the battle to hold back her tears. They streamed down her face as she searched his eyes for the man she had been unable to resist. Quinton suddenly jerked, his gaze moving over the wet tracks that marked her cheeks. He reached out to smooth them away, but she stepped away from him, wrapping her arms around herself as more tears flooded her eyes. He clenched his fingers into fists.
“Damn it to hell and back. What do ye want of me, Deirdre? I cannae offer ye my heart; it is dead.”
“I thought mine was too.” She whispered the words but felt like each one was branded into her soul. She turned and headed for the door.
“Where are ye going?” he demanded.
She stopped, cringing at the idea that he could force her to stay with him. She dreaded thinking that he’d insist she remain in his bed against her will, but he was master of the castle. No one would interfere with his will.
“To the eagle tower.”
“For how long, Deirdre? Ye burn for me as surely as I do for ye.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “I want more, and ye should too. Think on that, Quinton, for ye loved once and knew the joy. I, for one, am no’ content to live without it.”
He roared the moment she left. The sound echoed up the tower and startled the birds nesting in the eaves. But she didn’t let it stop her. She loved him. May fate have pity on her, she loved him, and if his heart was dead, hers would join it.
So she couldn’t stay. Even lust wasn’t strong enough to keep her with him. Lust wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Eight
Dawn seemed determined not to arrive. Deirdre breathed a sigh of relief when the horizon turned pink. Her bed had offered little comfort, even if someone had fixed it. Her mind dwelled on her conversation with Quinton. She wanted to go to him and take what he offered.
It was so tempting, too much so, really, because it came with a bitterness that she could not stomach. Admitting that she loved him only made it impossible to lie with him if he did not return her affections.
Many would call her a fool for that.
She sighed and sat up. There would be plenty who would tell her to take what he offered and hope for a brighter future.
It was almost enough.
But she found her pride unwilling to settle, unwilling to take less than what she would give in return. It was such a whimsical notion, and most would accuse her of being touched by madness for having it. Women loved, but men rarely did. That was a harsh fact of reality. She’d been taught to avoid letting affection creep into her heart until after she wed, because love so often led to ruin for a woman.
But she loved Quinton.
So she dressed and opened the chamber door. Cameron retainers stood there, and they climbed to the solar behind her. She walked straight to where a writing desk stood. Inside it were parchment and ink. She picked up a quill carved from marble and her hand began to shake as she noticed the fine details that Quinton had selected for the woman he loved. Envy rose inside her, but it was a sad sort, and she tightened her grip on the quill.
She wrote the letter to her father three times. Her tears ruined the first two, but she finished the third and sealed it with wax, but she left the seal of the Earl of Liddell sitting in its box instead of pressing it into the hot puddle.
She would not use Quinton’s name. She hadn’t gone to his bed because of his title, and it still stung that he failed to understand how his proposal insulted her.
She sighed and forced herself to stand up and walk toward the door of the lady’s solar. The retainers outside pulled on their caps the moment she opened the door. Forcing
her hand out, she offered them the letter while gritting her teeth. If they noticed, they didn’t remark upon it, only took the letter with another pull on their bonnets.
It was done.
She forbid herself any more tears. She was no longer a girl, but a woman who had made her choices and had to live with the results. She sighed and leaned against the window looking out over the ripening fields. Four months seemed so long, and yet it had been so little time.
“I told ye what I’d do if yer father arrived.”
She jumped and turned to face Quinton in a swirl of her skirts. He held up her letter, one of his dark eyebrows raised.
“Is this yer way of telling me what ye want, Deirdre? I thought ye had more courage than that. Ye’ve never lacked the spine to face me.”
“Stop being so insufferable, Quinton. Or can ye nae believe that I do no’ fancy yer title more than I want yer affection?”
He lost his mocking look, his face becoming impossible to read. Deirdre tossed her hands into the air.
“No, I do nae believe it, but I admit that ye’ve raised me curiosity.”
“Do nae toy with me, Quinton. No’ about this.”
He wiggled the letter between his fingers. “But what can ye expect me to believe? That ye would summon yer father and expect him to just take ye and no’ demand that I wed ye? Perhaps ye’ve no’ heard that my bride only beguiled me because her mother pointed me out as the most titled man in sight.” He winced. “She did a fine job of it, weaving her charms around me until I fell on me knees at her feet. I think she would have wed me too, except the Earl of Braunfield arrived at court, and her mother pointed her ever-so-well-trained daughter toward him instead, for the connections the man had.”
It was a horrible tale, but not an uncommon one. She sighed, refusing to allow her temper to rise when the situation was so pitiful.
“I never mentioned the idea of marriage between us, Quinton. It is true I’ve decided being lovers is no longer to my taste since I cannae have yer affection. If ye are going to be cross with me, do it for the right reason.”
He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. She moved toward him, reaching up to place her hand against his cheek. His eyes opened instantly, and for just a moment, hope flared through her, because he looked at her with such longing, she was certain his heart still had life in it.
“Let’s go back to bed and engage in the sort of conversation we are best at.”
She took her hand away. “That will solve nothing.”
He caught her hand and put it beneath the pleats of his kilt against his erection. Heat spiked through her, burning away her reasons in a flash.
“It will relieve the heat licking at both our insides. The attraction between us is uncommon, lass. I’ll admit that freely. Ye are more than a tumble to me. I’ve fucked other women, but I never called them my lover. Ye are that, Deirdre. Do nae doubt that means something important to me.”
“That is nae love.” She pulled her hand free and heard him growl.
“I’ll treasure yer love, Deirdre. ’Tis a gift I am no’ blind to.”
She turned to stare at him, temptation renewing its urging for her to take what was offered.
Her pride still refused, and she shook her head.
“Send the letter. I need an escort home so no more of yer neighbors will try to use me against ye. I’ll tell ye this, Quinton Cameron. It’s a disgrace the way yer fellow nobles try to take advantage of ye through anything they think ye fancy. Well, I’ll no’ be a part of it again.”
His lips suddenly split into a grin that completely baffled her.
“Ye are beginning to show the makings of a fine countess, Deirdre. Yer understanding of me life is admirable. So I will no’ be sending this letter to yer father.” He walked over to the writing desk where the candle that she’d used to melt the sealing wax still burned. He touched the edge of the letter to it and held it while it caught fire. He dropped it to the stone floor once more of it had been consumed.
“I believe we could both benefit from time together to explore our compatibility.”
“Are ye insane?” she demanded. “Ye must be the only laird in the world who is nae happy to be rid of a woman ye have already had.”
He flashed her another smile that was arrogant enough to make her hiss.
“And ye must be the first woman without a dowry who turned her back on a titled husband,” he insisted. “Rewrite that letter, and I’ll let me men take it to yer father, but I swear I’ll keep me word, for I am nae finished with ye, Deirdre. If I see yer father riding up to me gates, I’ll be happy to sit down with him and draw up contracts between us.”
Shock held her silent while he closed the distance between them. “And ye are nae finished with me.” He stroked her cheek, sending a shiver down her back. “Admit it…”
Damn her flesh to hell…
He noticed her reaction too. She saw the knowledge flare in his eyes a moment before he captured her mouth in a hard kiss. He cupped the back of her head while he angled his face to press his lips solidly against hers. It was a hard kiss, but also an intimate one. He stopped just short of crushing her lips, giving her a taste of his tongue that wrung a moan from her.
The cold night alone suddenly seemed like a month. Her body wasn’t interested in being held back by her pride any longer. She kissed him back, giving him everything he demanded of her.
He reached down and hooked her thighs with his arms, lifting her up as he carried her across the chamber to press her back against the hard stone wall once more.
The memory of what he’d done the last time he’d had her in the same position set fire to her. She whimpered as need clawed down the inside of her passage.
“That’s right, hellion; ye recall exactly how much ye enjoy my touch.”
He pressed a hard kiss against her neck that sent sensation flowing down her body. Her nipples contracted as she hissed at him.
“I want more.”
He raised his face to lock stares with her. “So do I.”
A moment later, her feet touched the ground, and he pushed away from her.
“Which is why ye’ll be staying.” Satisfaction shimmered in his eyes for a moment as he contemplated her. “And ye can feel that hunger gnawing at ye, for I’ll no satisfy ye until ye come to my chamber.”
He crossed the room, and frustration spiked through her. “Well, ye’ll be waiting a long time for that to happen.”
He paused at the door and grinned at her. “Then I’ll have to set my mind to thinking of ways to encourage ye, Deirdre Chattan.”
She leaned against the wall the moment the door closed behind him. Her body quivered as excitement flowed through her. An insane urge to giggle almost gained control of her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to ensure that she remained silent. She’d like to swear that she’d never go to his chamber.
But the fact was, she doubted herself.
***
Deirdre made sure she was not late to supper. It wasn’t really a task when she realized that she’d been looking over her shoulder for Quinton most of the day. She jerked her head about, because she was sure that she heard his step behind her. His promise rose from her mind endless times during the afternoon as she recalled exactly how he’d looked when he spoke.
The man always kept his word.
She shivered again, in spite of the fact that he was nowhere near. Just the memory of the sound of his voice was enough to elicit the response from her flesh.
As tempting as it was to snub him by not sitting by his side, she was wary of what such an action might prompt him to do. Quinton was a Highlander through and through. She had no doubt that one action from her would gain a response.
She decided on attending supper because she knew all that would happen at the high table was teasing, and she’d stand up against that well enough.
But she froze in front of Quinton, because the chairs that they had sat in the night before were gone. Instead he o
ccupied one side of a double seat. There would be nothing between them at all except their clothing, and the man was wearing only a shirt and a plaid.
She’d feel his warmth and smell his skin…
She shook her head and completed her courtesy while casting her gaze toward the floor to tear it away from him.
“A fine evening to ye, sweet Deirdre. I swear the day was too long.” He patted the seat beside him with anticipation flickering in his eyes.
“I came to tell ye that I will nae be dining in the hall tonight… and to give ye my apologies personally. My duties are demanding.”
“Ah… well then, we’ll withdraw to a private setting where we can discuss the matters that are weighing on yer mind.”
He snapped his fingers, and there was a flurry of activity as servants picked up everything on the high table and carried it off. He was already on his feet with his hand out by the time she realized that she’d stepped neatly into his trap.
But it was the challenge on his face that made her place her hand into his. Her chin rose, and she slapped her palm against his before she thought any further.
She was not afraid of the man.
No, only of your response to him…
His fingers curled around hers, and his thumb gently stroked over the delicate skin of her inner wrist while they made their way to his chamber. She ground her teeth with frustration but couldn’t deny that excitement was heating her belly. His staff laid out the supper and lit two candles before quitting the room.
The low light struck her as deeply intimate, but the truth was the entire room had that effect on her. She tried to avoid looking at the bed, but that didn’t stop her from blushing as she recalled exactly what he’d done to her in it.
What she truly longed for was the way he’d held her after their passion was sated. She’d never felt so cherished, and she suddenly looked at him, searching for hints of the lover she yearned for.
“This chamber is empty without ye in it, Deirdre.”
