The sudden uneasy glint in his eyes told her she’d guessed right. “I wanted both. I still do.”
She choked down the tears welling in her throat. That was the trouble. He wanted to have his way with her…but only so he could strike back at her father.
Then he shifted his thigh between her legs, and she felt the thick bulge in his trousers pressing into her like an iron brand.
Well, perhaps not only to strike back at Papa. Thanks to the harem tales she and the other girls had read at school, she knew what that bulge between his thighs signified. He did desire her. Or rather, he desired a woman. She only happened to be convenient.
She fought to ignore the pain that lanced through her chest. He was using her own wishful fancies to get her where he wanted her. Beneath him, allowing him to take shameful liberties with her.
Very well, perhaps it was time she used his desire to her advantage.
Forcing a smile, she tugged his hand back to where it had been. “So you want me, do you?”
He caught his breath. “Aye. You know that I do.”
“You want me. I want to go home.” She swallowed. “Perhaps I could earn my release by letting you…do things to me.” Like let him see her naked or let him touch and kiss her. When a storm built in his features, she added hastily, “Not ruin me, you understand. Just do…things.”
For a moment, he just stared at her, as if unable to believe what he was hearing. Then to her surprise, he cursed and snatched his hand free to plant it on the ground beside her shoulder.
Fire now glinted in his deep brown eyes as he brought his face down to hers. “So that’s what this has been about.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Your soft sighs and kisses, your letting me caress and taste you,” he gritted out as he hovered over her. “God, what an ass I am!”
Something had gone wrong in her plan, but what? “You’re angry.”
“Bloody right I’m angry! I thought that you—” He broke off with a foul curse, then shoved to his feet. “Never mind what I thought. I must have been daft. If I’d been using my brain, I would have realized you were just trying out a different ploy for escaping me.” Fury lit his face as he paced the bracken beside her. “Because ladies like yerself don’t roll in the bracken with thieving Scots like me unless they want something for it, do they?”
If he wouldn’t let her bargain for her release by offering him liberties, then it was better he think she had no desire for him at all. Because if he guessed how susceptible she was…
That must never happen. He would seduce her so he could turn her into a weapon against Papa, and she’d have nothing left, not even her pride.
“As you say, Lachlan, I am a lady.” Quickly, she stood up, too, then began putting her clothing in order. “And ladies do not…allow such liberties unless they’re…desperate.”
“Desperate!” He rounded on her. “To do what—save yer lying father’s hide?”
“To save my own hide,” she shot back.
“I told you from the beginning no harm would come to you as long as your family did as instructed.”
Her temper got the better of her. “I know what you said, and it’s a lot of rot.” She tied up her corset. “Eventually some maid at the inn will notice I’m not sleeping in my bed. She’ll tell another, who’ll tell another, and the whispers will spread until all of Edinburgh knows. No matter what you say, my future changed irreparably once you abducted me.”
He stared her down. “So your solution was to whore yerself?”
“No! I merely thought you might want—”
“To torture myself with a sample of yer delights. What you don’t know about men could sink a barge, lassie.” He stomped about with fists clenched. “A sample of you has only got me aching for the whole feast.”
“Well, you can’t have it,” she snapped.
“I know I can’t, damn you! That’s what I’m saying! You were taking quite a risk by tempting me the way you were—”
“Tempting you? You’re the one who started everything!”
“Only because I thought you liked it, too!” He halted a few feet away, his voice turning snide. “I didn’t know you were only pretending.”
She tied the silk cords of her pelisse robe. “Well, I was,” she lied. “I thought it might…soften you up some.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Bloody fool of a woman. Next time try singing, why don’t you? It’s safer.”
“You said you didn’t like my singing,” she said petulantly.
“I like it a damned sight better than having you beneath me pretending to welcome having me touch yer—” A strange expression crossed his face. Then he stared at his hand, rubbing his fingers together.
When next his gaze met hers, he looked at her as if seeing all her secrets. “So you took no pleasure in our kisses and caresses, did you?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said in as cold a voice as she could muster. She had to make him believe her. “How could I?”
“And you didn’t like it when I rubbed yer privates—”
“Certainly not!” she cried, her face aflame. How could he talk about this so blatantly? “I’m simply not as wicked as you think.”
He approached her, his eyes narrowing. “So it was just about softening me up, trying to get me to release you. That’s what ye’re saying.”
Unnerved by his odd intensity, she dropped her gaze to concentrate on fastening her pelisse robe. “That’s what I’m saying.” Her hands shook. “I am Princess Proud, after all.”
“Aye.” He caught her by the chin and forced her to look at him. “You’re a princess, all right.” He smoothed his thumb over her lower lip, sending a shiver through her despite her attempts to contain her reactions.
A sudden gleam lit his face. “But I’m not so sure about the proud part. More like Princess Machiavelli, ye are.”
She blinked at him. “Who’s that? Some Italian lady?”
He gave a low laugh. “Machiavelli was a very famous man who wrote a very famous book. About how to be canny. How to get what you want.”
She didn’t know whether to be flattered or alarmed by that description. “Either way, I’m a princess, aren’t I?” She forced some haughtiness into her tone. “And much too regal to be manhandled on the ground like some harlot.”
“Unless it’s for a good reason,” he reminded her.
“Yes, exactly.”
With his hand still gripping her chin, he bent close to press his mouth to her ear. “Only one trouble with that claim of yers.”
Her pulse quickened. He was too near for her to ignore, curse him. “What’s that?”
“A woman’s arousal may be deeper hidden, but it’s still apparent to any man who touches her in the right place.” His breath came hot and heavy against her ear. “You were wet for me, princess. And that’s a sure sign that you wanted me.”
Wet for him? What—
Ohhh. She’d forgotten about the dampness that had welled against her fingers the few times she’d caressed her privates. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might…that he would have felt…
“You’re mistaken,” she whispered.
His devilish chuckle sent alarm careening through her. “A man doesn’t mistake something like that. But you’re welcome to try proving me wrong.” Impudent as Satan himself, he nipped at her earlobe. “We can return to what we were doing and see what happens. I’d be more than happy to judge yer arousal—”
“You’re a beast,” she hissed, jerking back with a glare.
With complete insolence, he scoured her from mussed hair to mussed skirts. When his gaze met hers again, it held an uncanny knowing that made her heart sink. “You may not want to desire me, lassie, but you do.”
She itched to deny it again, but he knew she was lying now. Yet she’d die before she let him take advantage of it.
Setting her shoulders, she stared him down. “It doesn’t matter—”
“Ye’re right about that. Flaunt
that pretty body of yers as much as you please—it won’t get you free of me.” Taking her off guard, he snagged her about the waist and tugged her against him. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t take what you’re offering, if you’re ever fool enough to offer it again.”
He brought his lips to within an inch of hers, his gaze burning brightly. “So if you want to save yer virtue from a low beastie like me, best not be teasing me with tastes and samples. I’m not made of stone, ye know.” His eyes gleamed at her. “And neither are you, princess.”
For a moment, they stood silent and frozen, then the quiet was broken by someone clearing their throat nearby. “Sir Lachlan.”
Jamie. Dear Lord.
Blushing, she tried to pull away, but Lachlan held her tight another moment. “Do we understand each other, lassie?”
She’d never forgive him for prolonging her embarrassment. “Perfectly,” she bit out. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to let me go—”
“Certainly, my lady,” he said, the faintest hint of humor in his face as he released her. Then he turned toward the woods, and his voice hardened to ice. “Jamie, me boy, ye’re supposed to be keeping an eye on the horses.”
Swallowing her mortification, she glanced over to find Jamie watching his master with a mutinous expression. “Aye, sir. But you took so long, I thought you might have had trouble finding the lass. I came to help.”
“As you can see, no help was needed.”
Jamie remained stubbornly silent.
“Now that you’re here, you can escort the lady back to the coach.”
“You’re not coming?” Jamie asked.
“I’ll be there in a moment. There’s something I want to do first.”
“All right.” Jamie held out his hand to her. “Come along, Lady Venetia.”
Jamie had already taken her arm and was leading her through the woods when Lachlan called out, “And keep a good eye on her this time, will you, lad? I don’t need another sprint through the woods.”
“Aye, sir!” Jamie dropped his voice to a grumble. “You see what ye’ve done, milady? I slept through yer running off, and now I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“You should have helped me when I first asked,” she said, unrepentant.
He shook his head. “Ye sure are a spitfire, aren’t ye? Nothing like I expected. I thought Duncannon’s daughter would be—”
“I wish you’d both stop calling me ‘Duncannon’s daughter.’ I do have a name, you know.”
“Aye, milady, sorry.” They walked in silence a ways before he spoke again. “It’s just that ye’re a good sight prettier than we expected. Generally the laird don’t lay a hand on the ladies we rob, but with you he seems to be different, and—”
“You don’t approve.” A sudden hope seized her. Jamie had seemed awfully disturbed by how Lachlan held her. Perhaps she could use that.
“Ain’t my place to approve or disapprove. I’m just saying that…well…if the laird did anything he oughtn’t, you should…that is…if you tell me, I’ll…”
“Protect me from him?” she asked in her most coquettish tone.
“If need be.” Keeping his eyes safely on the ground, he helped her over a log.
She allowed her hand to linger on his arm. “And how will you do that?”
Although Jamie flushed bright red, his gaze held all the fierceness she could want. “I’ll speak to him, remind him that you’re a lady and all.”
A fat lot of good that would do her. Lachlan had promised to gag her if he heard that she’d tried to turn Jamie against him. “No, please, all I want is to go home.” Sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow, she cast him a soft smile. “Surely you can understand that, can’t you?”
He blinked, and for a moment, she thought she’d succeeded in tempting him.
Then his face closed up. “Yes, milady, I understand, but I can’t help you with that. You’re Duncannon’s daughter, and the laird needs you to get money—”
“From my father. Yes, I know.” With her heart sinking, she snatched her hand from his arm and hurried ahead.
He hastened after her. “But I’ll gladly speak to him on yer behalf.”
“Thank you, but no, Jamie. There’s no need.”
They neared where the coach sat by the road, the horses happily grazing. “Are you sure? Sir Lachlan didn’t do nothing he oughtn’t, did he, milady?”
“He didn’t do a thing,” she lied.
Except show me how little of a lady I really am. She’d nearly given herself to him, for pity’s sake! If she hadn’t come to her senses in time…
Her eyes narrowed. Yes, she’d stopped Lachlan by offering to let him take certain liberties. And why had he refused? Surely not just because he wouldn’t meet her terms and let her go. A true scoundrel would have enjoyed the pleasures, then reneged on his promise. But he’d been insulted by the very idea that she would “whore” herself to gain her freedom.
That wasn’t the behavior of a scoundrel.
With a sigh, she stalked through the grass. Lachlan was conscienceless enough to rob people, but not conscienceless enough to force a woman when he had her trapped? Or even to try seducing her?
Who in the dickens was the man, anyway? Was he the wild fellow she’d grown up with, or the courteous soldier she’d met at the ball? Was he the Scottish Scourge, or the responsible chief of the Clan Ross wanting to save his people? And which of them was the ardent lover who’d caressed her sweetly in the bracken?
She wished she knew. Because until she did, she dared not trust herself alone with him again.
They’d reached the carriage, and as Jamie bent to put down the step, she laid her hand on his shoulder. “There is one thing you could do for me, sir.”
Jamie straightened to cast her a wary glance. “What is it, milady?”
“Ride with me in the coach from now on instead of the laird.”
A stormy look passed over Jamie’s face. “So he did take liberties—I knew it! I will surely have a word with him.”
“No, please don’t say anything. He’s been a perfect gentleman, and I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful.” She forced a bright smile. “I merely prefer your company to his, that’s all.” Because you don’t make me want to toss my virtue at your feet.
Jamie searched her face a long moment, then nodded. “I understand, milady. You just leave everything to me.”
Chapter Ten
Dear Charlotte,
You know nothing of my life, my dear. If you did, you would understand that it is not just men who look at women and see only what they can provide. Women do that as well. I long ago learned to accept that the world is full of people who callously use other people for their own purposes. The question is—when will you accept it?
Your friend despite everything,
Michael
Lachlan waited until he was sure that Jamie and the lass were well out of hearing, and unlikely to return and surprise him.
Then he unbuttoned his trousers and drawers. Seizing his rampant erection, he pumped it with frantic motions. Before he climbed into that torture chamber of a coach with her, he needed to ease the tension she’d roused. Otherwise, he’d never be able to behave himself. He had at least another day of smelling her and hearing her sing and watching her twin beauties rise and fall with each of her breaths.
“Holy Christ!” he muttered as his cock spent itself into the bracken. Just thinking of her breasts made him come off. How the devil was he to last more days with her in a coach?
He gritted his teeth. Somehow he must. The alternative was impossible. Even if she let him lay her down and bury his aching flesh inside her, he refused to ruin her. That would make him exactly the blackguard she already thought him, the rash idiot his father had always condemned him for being.
It would also mean the end of his hopes for his clan, because if he ruined Duncannon’s daughter, there’d be no money for expanding the stills or buying barley seed or anything else. The earl wouldn’t res
t until he saw Lachlan and Jamie both hanging from the end of a noose.
Unless, of course, Lachlan married her.
Tucking his flaccid cock back into his drawers, he dismissed the very idea. For one thing, she’d never agree. The minute she realized what he was willing to do to her father to get what was owed him, she would never speak to him again.
And even if everything went well between him and Duncannon, even if the old earl finally settled this matter amicably, she’d never belong at Rosscraig. Any lass who considered it “proper” to break her sandwiches up into little pieces would shudder to see the conditions of his estate. Between the whisky mash fumes and the new pigsties, the smell alone would send her off screaming.
All right, so the manor house was well away from that and was handsomely built, too. He’d even managed to keep it from falling down about their ears. But the tattered furnishings needed replacing and the kitchen required a complete redoing, all of which would have to wait until his clan got back on its feet. Or until a woman with more taste than his mother took the place over.
He winced. He loved his mother as well as any dutiful son, but she’d been born a butcher’s daughter. She no more knew how to keep up an elegant home than a titmouse would. Before Lady Duncannon’s death, that fine lady had helped Mother with setting the place to rights, but once the woman had died, Mother had gone back to her old habits.
Rosscraig was in no condition to support a woman of Venetia’s needs and wants. It teemed with boisterous, hardworking men and their scrappy, hardworking women. That roiling lot was no kind of company for a lass who couldn’t tell a tabby from a wildcat.
Who begged him to spare its life on account of its wee ones.
He paused while buttoning his drawers. What a tenderhearted lass she was—too tenderhearted for the harsh life of Rosscraig. She was better suited for some London lord who could appreciate her particular talents.
A scowl knit his brow as he finished fastening himself up. He didn’t like the thought of that, either, of her in the arms of a puling English dandy. She deserved better, even if her father was the worst devil ever to betray his countrymen.
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