by Sabrina York
But heavens, he was irritating.
As they’d tangled in the garden, her passion had risen, swamped her. She’d wanted nothing more than to give him everything, right then and there. And he had refused. Spouted some nonsense about his curse and a vow and how necessary it was that they not kiss again.
Ballocks.
She would kiss him again, and more, if she had the chance.
A moth batted against the window, trying desperately to reach the glow of the night lamp. Enslaved by its own perception of the world, it would likely die there, seeking the light. Lana put out the lamp.
Lachlan was like that, she reflected. Battering incessantly against a window to reach a light that was not the sun he thought it was. So certain he was doomed to die. So certain he was cursed. While she knew there were no such things as curses, she also knew that beliefs held so tightly tended to become self-fulfilling prophecies.
If Lachlan continued on this same course, she had no doubt he would die on the eve of his thirtieth birthday, simply because he expected himself to do so. If he allowed this “curse” to control his life, he was doomed.
She couldn’t allow that. Couldn’t bear it. The thought of a world without his presence made her heart ache. She would do whatever she could to save him from that fate, to release him from the prison that held him. She wasn’t sure how she would accomplish this—he did seem to be a man who stubbornly clung to his beliefs and adhered to his oaths. But he’d changed his mind about the Clearances. This gave her hope she could help him see the truth about his ridiculous curse as well. She resolved to do so.
Now, more than ever, Lana was determined to help him in any way she could. If she could convince him of the ridiculousness of this curse, the more the better.
Her determination didn’t stem solely from altruistic motivations.
Nae. There was another desire lurking in her heart of hearts.
Well, perhaps not lurking as much as raging, like a firestorm.
She wanted him. His kisses, certainly, but she wanted even more. His body, his heart, his soul. Whatever he was willing to give.
In that moment she made a rash decision, a resolution, in fact.
She would have Lachlan Sinclair. Seduce him if she needed to, whether he wanted to be seduced or not.
And damn the consequences.
Damn his curse.
* * *
Lachlan didn’t drink the toddy Dougal brought that night. For one thing, he was still reeling with an exquisite lightness of spirit, ignited by his momentous decision and the uplifting reaction of his people. He’d never felt so welcome in a place and he was loath to let go of the feeling, and he knew the toddy would muddy his thoughts. The other reason he eschewed the toddy was that he didn’t want to sleep.
He slipped away, making certain Dougal didn’t follow him, and crept down to the seawall. He was foolish, perhaps, hoping she would appear, hoping he could share another peaceful interlude with her. Although certainly not a kiss. But even if she wasn’t there, he would enjoy the bracing sting of the wind blowing off the sea.
As he stared out at the swirling waters, he reveled in the view and in his certitude that he’d made the right choice. In fact, he’d never felt so right, so comfortable in his skin, so redeemed. It was a wonderful feeling.
A sound behind him captured his attention and his pulse lurched. Slowly he turned. His breath snagged as he caught sight of her.
For she had come.
He’d known she would, hoped she would.
“Lana…”
“Your Grace.” He loved the way her lips quirked. It made him want to cover them with his own.
“Call me Lachlan.”
Her eyes danced. “Och. I dare not call you Lachlan.”
He resisted the urge to put out a lip. She’d done so before—this afternoon in the garden, in fact. He very much liked the sound of his name on her tongue. He was possessed of images, fantasies, of Lana moaning his name in his ear as he buried himself in her—
But no. No.
With great effort, he reined in his errant imaginations and reminded himself that no matter how much he wanted her, it wasn’t wise.
“You dare not?” He adopted her teasing tone in an attempt to keep things light.
“Should my sister hear me call you by your given name, there would be hell to pay.”
Lachlan barked a laugh. He hadn’t been oblivious to Lady Dunnet’s watchful eye. “She is rather intimidating.”
“And protective. She’s convinced a man like you would take what he wants with no conscience.”
He swallowed. The thought had flittered through his mind. Once or twice. Or more. “I do have a conscience.”
“I know you do, Lachlan.” Ah, yes. He did love it, the sound of his name on her tongue. “You have proved as much. But Hannah has bidden me to have a care with you.”
“Has she?”
“Aye.” To his delight, she stepped into his arms, where she belonged. She stared up at him. Heat rocked through him. Lust rose; she rubbed against it.
His throat constricted. His hold on her tightened. The chained beast within him roared. Did she but know, he was not a man to tease. “I take it you didn’t heed her advice.” He meant it as a smooth platitude but it came out as a croak.
“Ah, but I did.” She nestled closer, nudging his cock with her soft belly.
Lachlan’s mind spun, his senses howled, urging him to lift her hem, rip off his kilt, and take her. It would be so easy, there was so little between them. But then, there were worlds between them.
She winked. “She told me to have a care with you.” Her fingers riffled over his chest, sending shimmers of sensation through him. “And I shall. Have a care.” Her lips touched his neck. “With you.”
Ah, God. He shivered as her sweet tongue darted out and dabbed the sensitive spot behind his ear. Lust boiled in his veins, his resistance crumbled, but he felt the need to protest. At least a little. “We shouldna be doing this,” he murmured as his head descended.
“Nae. We shouldna.” She buried her nails in his nape and pulled him to her, took his mouth. Ah, but he gave it back.
And, God, she was entrancing. Her touch, her scent, the taste of her lips. He walked her back into the shadows of the castle, where no prying eyes could see.
* * *
It was divine. The caress of the summer breeze, the soft shadows of the night, and Lachlan in her arms. He was tender, reverent as he pressed her against the cool castle wall. His kiss was delightful; the hunger roiling within her howled.
Everything about him lured her. His voice, his smile, the warmth of his body against hers. As he tipped his head to the side to deepen the kiss, she buried her fingers in his hair and then, because she couldn’t resist, scored him with her nails.
He reared back and stared at her, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. She loved the way his lips tweaked up. “You are a minx,” he murmured. She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but it sounded as though it pleased him, so she pulled his head back down.
This time, when his mouth covered hers, it was with more urgency.
She liked his urgency and strove to incite more. To this end, she arched closer and rubbed against him. It was a simple movement, a tentative one. She didn’t expect his response. It was a growl, or something like one. And then, to her surprise, he slid his tongue between her lips.
Heat shot through her. Her belly clenched. Her mind spun.
Lord. Lord in heaven above.
Cautiously, she met his foray with one of her own. He stilled, and his hold on her tightened. His hands began to rove madly, trailing pleasure wherever he touched. Her hips, her waist, and then up to her arms. He hovered there, his thumb gently stroking in wider arcs.
Impatience and anticipation whipped through her. She knew what he was preparing to do and she burned for it.
And ah! Yes! His thumb touched her breast. Only on the side, and in a very cautious sweep, but it sent pings of exc
itement through her. She squirmed against him to encourage more, and he groaned.
“Oh, Lana.” A plea, although for what, she didn’t know.
And then she didn’t care, for he encased her breast in his palm. The warmth through the thin barrier of her nightgown was heavenly. “Yes, please, Lachlan,” she whispered. “More.”
His breath stuttered and his hold tightened, and then his thumb swept up and over her nipple. Such a simple caress. It sent shards of wanting through her. It made her wanton and wild.
As he toyed with her she explored the broad expanse of his shoulders, the bunching muscles of his back, the trim cut of his waist. She loved how hard he was, how strong. That he loomed over her, yet held her so gently.
All thoughts skittered away on the wind as he made his way over her cheek and down to her neck, where his gentle kisses quickly turned to something more. As he nibbled and nipped and drove her into a frenzy, he teased her nipple, circling it, tantalizing her until she wanted to wail.
“Yes,” she whispered in his ear, before laving his lobe. “Yes.”
A cool gust hit her calves and she realized he was raising her hem. While she wanted this, needed this, she couldn’t forget the fact that they were braced against the castle walls, outside, in full view of anyone who should wander by. Granted it was deep in the night and there shouldn’t be anyone passing by, but the thought still lingered. She stilled.
Sensitive to her every reaction, he stopped his enchanting torment and raised his head, shooting her a curious glance. She knew, in that moment, if she so commanded, he would drop her hem and walk away.
But she didn’t want him to walk away. She wanted to know. So she smiled at him.
The relief flooding his face was nearly comical, but Lana was too bemused to be amused. Because just then, he touched her. Aye, it was only his palm. And only on her thigh, but the intimate touch sent exhilaration screaming through her.
She lapped at her lips and his gaze locked on her mouth. His features were harsh, his muscles tight. Slowly, and with great care, he eased his palm higher and higher.
Lana’s breath caught. The moment hummed between them. The heat of his hand scored her as he moved closer to the aching bundle of nerves at the crux of her thighs. It was hard not to quiver as he neared. Hard not to quake.
When he skimmed the downy nest, delight danced up her spine and she whimpered. His expression darkened even more, became so intense, it nearly frightened her. But it was an exciting kind of fear. One that made her blood pump in her veins. Made her belly ache. Made her head spin.
Holding her gaze, he traced her crease. Her knees nearly gave way as he brushed a tender spot, sending showers of pleasure through her. A strange dampness flooded her body, making her boneless and weak.
Ah, but that was only the beginning.
He delved deeper and touched her fully. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, the pleasure was so intense.
“Do you like this, Lana?” he whispered. She loved that he sounded gruff, impatient.
“Och, aye.” She wanted to kiss him again, pull his head down and take his lips and suck on his tongue, but he did something that made her mindless, made her forget all resolution. He scraped her with a nail, barraging her with delicious sensations.
His eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. His strokes intensified. To her shock, he encased her breast with his mouth and sucked on her swollen nipple through the material of her nightdress.
Lana nearly swooned. The dual torment, the tandem bliss, nearly stole her senses. It was all she could do to remember to breathe. She clutched at his shoulders and thrashed and moaned and melted to his touch as he played her, stroking, nibbling, nipping.
The storm within her rose, beginning in her belly and coiling outward in ever-arching swirls. As her muscles tightened, he increased his intensity, his fingers moving faster and faster, his lips and teeth and tongue plying her with pleasure.
She didn’t understand the tempest within her, and she didn’t care. It was enough to simply feel. Though the cacophony was delicious, delirious, delightful, it was woven through with ribbons of need, ribbons that wound tighter and tighter and tighter.
She had the sense she was climbing a summit, reaching for some ultimate prize, but she didn’t know what it was. Still, as he worked her, she strove for it.
And ah … When she reached it … When she finally hit the peak … She knew.
This was what she had yearned for.
The release was exquisite, washing her over with endless waves of ecstasy. Her soul seemed to launch from her body and twirl in the ether. Shudders, quivers, and quakes took her, each more wondrous than the last.
And Lachlan, bless him, kept stroking her, though more slowly, bringing her back to earth with gentle care. And all the while, he held her.
Thank God he held her, or she would have melted into a puddle on the flagstones.
When she was finally able to stand on her own, when she was finally able to breathe again, she cupped his chin and kissed him.
“That was lovely,” she murmured.
“It was.” He didn’t smile. Indeed, his harsh expression didn’t lighten. He stared at her, his eyes rimmed with red. “You are lovely.” With one last, lingering caress, he let her hem fall, and stepped away.
Lana frowned. While she was something of an innocent, she wasn’t completely clueless. She knew this type of interaction was merely a prequel to something more. And she knew he wanted more. The bulge in his breeches was undeniable. Yet he stepped away. “Lachlan?”
He raked his hair. “I should not have done that.”
She couldn’t hold back her chuckle. “I am verra glad you did.”
Though he tried not to—she could tell—he smiled. “I’m glad. But in future, you must remind me to keep my … hands to myself.”
“I most certainly will not.”
He blinked. “You won’t?”
“I rather enjoyed that. And I would like to try … more.”
“More?”
“You know.” She sidled up against him; his body was hard and insistent against hers. His cock thrummed against her belly. She couldn’t resist a wiggle.
His groan rumbled on the air. “Lana. You do test me.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake. Why?”
“I told you about my vow.”
“Aye. ’Tis a silly vow”
“It most decidedly is not. I cannot take the chance of continuing my line.”
She sniffed. It was a silly vow, just as his curse was silly. But neither could keep her from claiming what she desired. She shot him an innocent look and fluttered her lashes. “I doona know a lot about the ways of men and women—”
He huffed a laugh and muttered something that sounded like, “Thank God for small favors.”
“But I do know…” She fiddled with his collar, and he allowed it.
“What?”
“Are there no’ … ways to prevent conception?”
He gaped at her. “How on earth do you know about such things?”
She sighed. “I am a Scots lass.”
“It is, however, beside the point. I am a duke. I do not ravage maidens.”
Oh, how exasperating.
But Lana was a clever girl and she had much experience managing exasperating men, having grown up with Magnus Dounreay as a father. She nibbled her lip, considering her options. A brilliant idea blossomed. “I know! I could give my virginity to someone else first.”
Lachlan reared back, nostrils flared. “You will not.”
Oh, dear. Even though she’d been teasing—she would never do anything of the sort—his response was feral. Perhaps this wasn’t the best tack after all. But then again, maybe it was. She liked his ferocity. She liked the hint of jealousy in his eye. Perhaps she could use this to incite him to forget his vow.
Men were like that, she’d found. They tended to forget their vows when there was something else they wanted more.
She fixed her features in
a truculent arrangement. “It only makes sense.”
“It most certainly does not make sense.”
“Aye. It does. If I am no’ an innocent, then you would have no qualms about ravaging me.”
“I would have plenty of qualms.”
“Nonsense. If I were no’ a virgin, you wouldna be ravaging anything.” She waggled a finger at him. “Use your logic.”
“There is nothing logical about this conversation in the least.”
“The more I think on it, the better I like the idea.”
He made a sound. Something like a growl. “You are no’ giving yourself to some other man.”
“I have to give myself to someone. At some point.”
“Not necessarily.” A snarl.
“Lachlan, be reasonable.”
“Me? Be reasonable? Me?”
Lana affected a sigh. “I would rather it was you, you know, for the first time, but I would be happy to make the sacrifice of taking another man as my first lover if it helped ease your worries.”
He gaped at her. His lips worked.”But Lana … You deserve a man far better than I.”
This declaration devastated her. Not just the words, but the tone with which he said them. So sad. So desolate. So resigned. It scuttled her impish urge to tease him more. She set her palm to his cheek and forced him to look her in the eye. “You are a fine, fine man.”
“I am no’.”
“One of the finest men I have ever met.”
“I doona know how you can say that.”
“Do you no’?” She set her hand on his. “I can say it because I know you, Lachlan. I’ve seen your soul.”
CHAPTER TEN
I’ve seen your soul.
Holy God. He stared at her, his muscles tense, his mind awhirl. The aforementioned soul, heaving against its bonds.
