by Lucy Monroe
"It is necessary, both for your safety and to vanquish your ghost."
"It's a memory, not a ghost."
"Call it what you like, but I have promised to defeat it and I will."
"By teaching me to swim?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes."
"You're daft. I want to stay away from the water, not get into it."
He was right in front of her without her knowing how he'd gotten there again. Maybe the man was a magician. "Most lairds would not take kindly to being called daft," he told her in a mild voice.
She bit her lip. He was probably right.
He reached out and gently pulled her lip from her teeth with his thumb. "Do not do that, you will draw blood."
She jerked backward, his touch more provocative than her memories. "I'm sorry."
"For biting your lip?"
"For implying you are daft."
"Then you agree to learn to swim?"
She swallowed, her mind whirling. "You truly believe doing so will drive the memories away?"
"If I teach you, it will."
Of course he thought he was the only one who could do anything important. He was the laird after all. She had to clamp down on a hysterical giggle. There was nothing funny about this situation. But what if he was right? She hated her fear of the water, but even more she hated her fear of her father. She would most likely never see him again, but if she did… she would like to be able to touch him without cringing.
There was also the fact that if she did not conquer her fear of the water, if she ever did find a way to escape, she would not have the ability to take it. She'd made the boat crossing to the island because she had no choice. She'd been physically forced to get in the boat. She did not think she had the fortitude to force herself to make the return journey.
"The lessons will keep you from getting bored," he said with sly persuasiveness.
"It will get me drowned."
He shook his head. "You have very little faith in me."
She should have no faith in him at all, and why she did was a mystery she could not fathom.
"I cannot trust you," she reminded herself as much as him.
She wondered if the words sounded as false to his ears as they did to hers. Because against her own best judgment, she could not deny that deep down inside, she did trust him. And knowing that made her furious with herself.
"You damn well can."
"You broke your promise to me." She should have remembered that truth before spilling her most secret memories all over him.
What was it about this man that sent her most logical thoughts scattering to the four winds? How could being with him make her feel safe when he had proven she was anything but secure in his company?
He looked mortally offended. "I have not."
"You have."
"How?"
"You promised not to hurt me, but you did… very much," she added for good measure.
"What the hell are you talking about? I have not harmed you in any way." His voice came out more like a growl.
The man was very animal-like sometimes. It must be a Highlander trait because she had not seen anything like it amongst her father's soldiers. No matter how fierce, they never conjured images of predatory beasts.
"How can you say you have not harmed me? You kidnapped me! Before I told you I was married to Talorc, you were going to leave me in the forest to be eaten by a wild animal. You forced me to cross the sea in a boat. You kissed me just to see if I was lying. Then you told your brother I was so inept at it, I was most certainly innocent." Her anger grew as she enumerated his sins.
"The kidnapping saved you from having to marry Talorc. That is a gift and well you know it."
"That is entirely beside the point, since your intent was to harm me, and the fact that your actions indirectly benefited me in some small measure does not negate your many other sins."
"I am surprised your father did not settle you in a nunnery. You speak like an abbess."
"How would you know that?" she asked deridingly.
"Knowledge of the world is necessary to keep my clan safe, so I acquire it."
"Humph."
His eyebrows rose at that and then that tempting gleam was back in his wolflike eyes. "I would not have allowed you to be eaten by wild animals."
"And how would you have stopped it? You intended for me to return to the keep on my own."
"My soldiers would have watched over you."
"A likely story. When you dropped me off your horse with the intent of sending me back to Talorc as message bearer, your soldiers were going with you."
"I left behind two warriors you never saw."
"What? Why?"
"They are watching the Sinclairs."
"You left spies behind?"
"Yes."
"And you expected them to watch over me when I traveled back to the Sinclair holding?"
"Yes."
"Oh." So, she hadn't been an expendable pawn. She wasn't sure why, but that knowledge made her feel much better.
"You still forced me to cross the water in your small boat."
"It's a very sturdy craft and I did not know of your fear of the water when I decided to take you."
"Would it have mattered?"
He shrugged. "I might have knocked you out so you would not be unduly distressed."
"You think knocking me asleep would have been an improvement?" she demanded in outrage.
"Over you spending more than an hour locked in terror, yes."
She shook her head, unable to think of a single thing to say to that audacious comment.
"I have kept my promise to you and I will have you admit as much. Now, English," he added when she said nothing.
"You did hurt me… with your kiss." Far more than kidnapping her from a clan she did not wish to belong to.
"I did not. I was gentle." His voice suggested he'd made a major concession.
She didn't remember much gentleness… only heat and pleasure and then terrible shame. "You humiliated me… and in front of your brother, too."
"I did not humiliate you."
"Must you disagree with everything I say?"
"If you are wrong, yes."
"But you did humiliate me. You made me enjoy it. You made me kiss you back, but all you were doing was testing me." Could he truly not fathom how horrible that would be for a woman, to believe she was wanted and discover belatedly, after exposing her own inappropriate desire, that it was all a stratagem? "I acted like a wanton and it was nothing but a horrible, rotten test on your part," she whispered, her head down because she could not stand to look in his face when she said it.
"You are upset you responded to me?"
Were all men so ignorant of the way a woman thought, or just this one? "Yes."
"Then it is not my fault you were embarrassed, but your own."
She looked up at that, unable to believe he had said something so cruel.
"My fault? I did not invite your kiss."
"You had lied to me. I had no choice but to test the veracity of your claims. And by your own admission, it was not my kiss that caused you to be hurt, but your response to it." He sounded like he was terribly proud of that logic.
She was stunned because he was right of course. Oh, he had hurt her all right, but she could see where his male reasoning had led him to believe it was the only course of action. Had she not responded to his kiss, Emily would only have been angered by his boorish behavior, not humiliated. It was her own weak behavior that had hurt her the most.
A lump formed in her throat. Why did life have to be so painful? She could look back over her years and see a pattern that shredded the very depths of her soul. It was her reaction to her father's visit the day after he tried to drown her that had sent him off to find Sybil. It was her inability to warm to her stepmother and be the lady Sybil wanted her to be that had kept a mother's love far out of Emily's grasp.
She had ruined her own chances with Talorc by respo
nding with temper instead of understanding to his impatience and rude behavior. She had ruined her chances of effecting a rescue for Cait by getting herself kidnapped as well with her lies, and she had sown the seeds of her own humiliation when she had responded to Lachlan's kiss.
A small voice in her head said she was painting too dark a picture, but at that moment she could not see beyond her misery. She seemed to invite rejection like an old friend wherever she went and whatever she did.
A sob escaped before she pushed her fist into her mouth to prevent another sound coming out.
"Emily?" Lachlan sounded worried.
He probably thought she was going to succumb to another bout of ill humor again, but she was not that weak. Unutterably foolish sometimes, but not hopelessly weak.
She swiped at her tears. "I am s-sure y-you are right." She hated the way her voice broke, but she could not help it.
However, her tears did not mean she was going to lose control again.
"Do not cry. I forbid it."
"I'm not…" She sucked in air so she could talk without stuttering. "I'm not crying."
He said a word she did not recognize. It didn't sound Gaelic, but it might have been. She was not totally fluent, especially when it came to curses and the like.
"Responding to my kiss should not embarrass you," he informed her.
She almost laughed at that, but she was too busy trying to control the tears she had denied. "I should not have blamed you for my lack. I'm no better than a strumpet," she admitted.
"Strumpets have a lot more experience."
"Is that supposed to comfort me?" she demanded, glaring at him. Bad enough to behave like a woman of ill repute, but to have him tell her she wasn't very good at it was hardly flattering.
"Do you want me to comfort you?" he asked, looking slightly green at the prospect.
"Why not? There is no one else here to do it." Though she'd spent most of her life without someone there to comfort her. Abigail tried, but Emily had always been careful not to visit her worries on her younger sister.
The girl had enough of her own with her hearing affliction.
"I am a laird, not a nursemaid."
"I would not have known that if you hadn't told me so." She'd meant the words to come out mocking, but they ended on a sob and she turned from him, desperately wanting to get her feelings under control.
He pulled her back around and into an embrace that should have been awkward, but was not. It felt so natural she had to remind herself that he was the enemy. She fit against him as if their bodies had been made to be pressed together in just such a fashion and his arms felt secure around her.
It was comfort when she needed it most and she could not turn away, though her logical mind told her she should.
Wasn't she proving her weakness to him yet again?
His hand smoothed down her back. "Tell me why you are so upset. I do not understand."
"You kissed me and I liked it." She sighed. "I thought you liked it, too, but then I realized you didn't… that it was simply a test. You weren't affected by our embrace, but I was. That must mean I'm a true wanton. Even when you pulled away, I did not want you to stop."
He smiled down at her, his eyes warm with something she did not understand. "You are no wanton."
"I am. I know it, though I appreciate you trying to comfort me." She sighed. "Perhaps marriage to Talorc will not be so bad after all."
Lachlan went absolutely rigid and the hand rubbing her back now grabbed her shoulder with bruising bite. "What the hell are you talking about?"
She had no idea why he was so upset. Surely she was the one who should feel out of sorts for being forced to see a side of her nature she would rather have remained in ignorance of. "If I am wanton, I will find some solace in the marriage bed."
"You are not a wanton. Your response was for me, not the other laird." He looked ready to do violence.
But she did not feel any fear in the circle of his arms. Still, she had allowed the liberty of his holding her long enough. She needed to start acting like a lady if she wanted to believe herself to be one. She would never live up to Sybil's exacting standards, but Emily had her own code of honor and would not compromise it further.
She pushed out of his arms and indicated the door with the sweep of her hand. "You have other, more important matters to attend to, I am sure."
"You do not dismiss your laird. You wait for him to dismiss you," he growled, as if instructing a child in basic manners.
She rolled her eyes. "I cannot go anywhere, therefore I cannot be dismissed."
"Which means you wait for me to leave."
She bit back another frustrated sigh. No doubt he was right, but she wanted him to leave now. "I wish for a moment of privacy."
"You dare to order me?"
"I am not trying to offend you. I did not order you, if you will remember… but merely spoke my opinion. That is allowed, surely?"
"I did not ask for it."
"I must always wait until you do?"
His jaw looked hewn from granite and she wondered at his apparent anger.
"Lachlan?" she prompted in a soft voice.
"You do not have to wait for me to ask for your opinion to give it… in private," he said as if making a major concession.
"Thank you," she replied, though she personally thought she should not need his permission to do so. She was smart enough to refrain from saying so, however. No doubt Sybil would have agreed with him. She had certainly never encouraged Emily to speak her mind. "Well…"
"What?"
"Are you going to leave now?" she asked, trying not to sound overeager and offend him again.
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"There is something I must do first."
Chapter 10
"What?" Emily asked.
Her eyes were wide with shock when Lachlan's lips closed over hers. Which would have been amusing if he wasn't aching so much from having her tell him how much she had enjoyed his kisses. Had the lass really not expected him to claim her lips again after that?
But to say in almost the same breath she thought she would respond to Talorc the same way had brought Lachlan's beast raging to the surface with more than desire fueling his blood. He'd wanted to rip the other laird's throat out for nothing more than the image of Emily sharing her body and her passion with the other man.
Her mouth was open on a gasp and Lachlan took immediate advantage, delving inside with his tongue to sip at the nectar waiting for him there. How could she believe he did not enjoy her like this? He had needed to test her yesterday, to see if she was as innocent as she claimed, but he'd never said he did not enjoy it.
She didn't fight him, but hung suspended in his grasp as he tasted her mouth and imprinted his wolf senses with both her flavor and feminine scent.
He lifted his mouth only a breath from hers. "There is no shame in this, Emily. I want your response. I crave it."
"Is it another test?" she asked, vulnerability shimmering in her violet eyes.
"No."
"Then why?"
"Because I want to. Because I want you."
"Oh. But I don't want to be a wanton."
"I won't let you become one," he promised.
He connected their mouths again, exultation roaring through him when she made a small sound and melted into him.
He was a fool for kissing her again, for tempting his beast as well as his manly desire.
But there was something so perfect about this woman. She was destined for his rival, but she smelled right, she felt right, and she tasted like ambrosia. His beast howled with the need to come out and claim her. His bones ached with the desire to make the change, to show her his power. It was insane and he could not give in to it, but his body shook with the craving and a growl her human ear could never hear rumbled low in his chest.
If he did not do something quickly, he was going to lay her on her bed, strip her clothes from her body and make love to her unti
l neither of them could walk. Not only was she too fragile for such handling, but she was human and she was English. She would believe that if he took her completely, that it would mean they had to marry. Hell… even the Sinclair Chrechte saw mating that way.
He shoved her away from him and then grabbed her again before she fell on her backside. "We will have our first swimming lesson now."
He only hoped that the cold water of the loch would restore some of his self-control.
Emily swayed in his grasp and blinked at him, her purple gaze hazy with passion. "I really am a strumpet."
He glared at her. "Liking my kisses does not make you a whore."
"It does when I am promised to another."
"No, it does not."
"There are those in the Church who teach woman is evil, a temptress. I feel like a temptress now." She blinked up at him, her lips parted, her breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath she took, their turgid peaks pressing against her bodice. "I want you to kiss me again. Surely that means I am depraved."
"It means I have roused your passion, 'Tis good to know." He placed his fingertip over the quickly beating pulse in her neck. Her blood was rushing for him and for no other. That did not make her a wanton; it made her more alluring than any other woman he had known. "I am tempted by your sweet innocence, but that does not make you a temptress. I kissed you, English, not the other way around."
"That is true. Does that mean you are the seducer?"
"You have not yet been seduced."
"I haven't?"
"Am I buried between your thighs?"
She gasped. "No!"
"Then you have not been seduced."
"Oh…" She chewed on her bottom lip.
"You would not respond so easily to another man."
"Are you certain of that?"
"Yes."
"You are very arrogant," she said speculatively. "Perhaps it is only that arrogance speaking now."
She had no idea what the drought of her being attracted to another man did to him, how angry it made him. But he could tell from the way she spoke that she was not trying to make him jealous. She was genuinely worried about her morals.
It would have been bloody amusing if she didn't look so upset.
"Did you ever want to touch one of your father's soldiers?" he asked, convinced the answer had to be a negative for her to be as wholly innocent as she was.
