“There are things,” he said, spilling the words reluctantly, “but a beautiful woman like you deserves far more than I can ever give. You deserve to be in the arms of a man that holds passion and stamina equal to your own.”
“I only want what you can give. It’s all I need.”
“You’ve no idea what you might need because I’ve not been able to help you find it. ’Tis buried inside, and I see more of it every day. The slightest touch could unlock it. If the right man found the key—”
“You hold the key as my husband, and what I can’t get from you will never be discovered. There will be no unlocking of anything unless you do it yourself.”
“You need the touch of a man’s hand, lass. A woman like you will never be happy without it.”
“I need the touch of your hand. Don’t make me beg you for something that is my right as your wife.”
“Do not beg for something I cannae give,” he said.
She dropped her face because she did not want him to see her tears. His hand tangled in her hair.
“All I want now is for you to be happy,” he said.
“I am happy. You’ve given me a wonderful, fulfilling life here. I am safe, loved, comfortable.”
“And your spirit is dying before my eyes,” Trevor said sadly.
“Because you’re killing it by saying these things to me.” She swiped at a tear that dropped onto her cheek.
“I seek to bring it back to life,” he said. “Meg, I know you’ve slept in the spare room on my worst nights, but I want you to move into the other room. Permanently. I’ll have Sam make some repairs. You can shop for frilly little things to make it prettier.”
“Why?” She nearly choked on the word.
“Because ’tis best for both of us.”
“In what way is it best? How can giving up on our marriage be the best thing? You’re giving me no options, Trevor, no way out of an impossible situation. Please don’t do this to me. I need you to want me, because if you don’t, I don’t know what will happen. I’ll never be able to stop this…I’ll never be able to stop myself.”
She slapped her hand over her mouth, horrified by what she’d said. Her tears seemed to flood her hand, against her mouth. All she could taste was bitterness.
“Oh, God, Trevor.”
He smiled gently. “I’d not hold it against you, lass, if you sought another to give you what I cannae give.”
“I wouldn’t,” she sobbed. Oh, she could barely get a breath.
“I know the kind of woman you are.” He laughed. “And I know the kind of man I am. I would not have us jeopardize our reputation or have others know the truth of our lives. I’ve taken that all into consideration. I’ve made it as easy as possible.”
Megan’s heart jumped in her chest. Something roared through her head with the power of a ferocious wind. She could no longer hear the words coming from Trevor’s mouth because one thought pounded through her mind.
Campbell is for me.
“What have you done, Trevor?”
“I’ve chosen as well as I can. ’Twas a hard decision to make, but after considering the men here and thinking of the ramifications, the damage to your character, my own selfish pride, the possible scandal—”
“Ramifications?” she asked softly. “You’re worried about what other people think? Should I not have been your first consideration?”
“Ultimately you were my only consideration,” he said. “I know women have needs as well as men, and a woman such as you…”
The more words that fell from his lips, the angrier she became. She thought if he didn’t shut up, she would hit him. She snatched her hand from his and slowly rose. She stared down at him with her most furious scowl. When he merely smiled, another wave of rage passed through her.
“Such as me?” she snarled.
“You’re a handful, Meg. There’s not a man I know capable of handling you, except perhaps Sam. Though I thought of Sam, you seem to have him wrapped around your finger and—”
She grabbed a fistful of her hair and wanted to wrench it out of her head to release some of the fury. “You offered me to my best friend?” she shrieked.
“Even Sam did not think he could handle a woman like you. Besides, you’re like a sister to him.”
“I cannot believe I’m hearing any of this,” Megan snapped. “And for your information, Trevor MacGregor, I need no handling, and I have no needs.”
“You may not know it yet, darling, but ’tis obvious to me.”
Megan glared at her husband. He was seriously considering giving her as a gift to another man, probably already had.
“I’m beginning to see the promise of this place…There’s an unexpected turn of events blowing in the wind…”
“Even if I had these needs,” she said quietly, “they’d not be met under the rough hands of a traitorous rebel.”
“The difference between a traitor and a hero is often determined by the winning side, love,” Trevor said. “He’s a well-favored man, almost perfect for you. There’s passion and power in him. I sense a man with purpose and commitment, and he could offer all the things I cannot.”
“Enough, Trevor. I care not what favorable attributes you feel the man has.”
“What hangs between his legs could give you a child, Meg.”
“Bloody hell, Trevor! What kind of conversation is this to be having with your own wife?”
Trevor spread his hands, clearly confused. His brows drew down. “I want you to be happy. A child would make you happy, and I cannae give you one.”
“You could at least bloody try! When was the last time you even wanted to touch me?”
“I want to touch you now, darling.”
“Then why? Each move I’ve made, each touch…” She took a step toward him. “Why do you refuse every time I offer? I’m offering now. Will you not accept?”
“No, love, I will not because”—he caught her hand and brought it to his lips—“’tis just that, an offer. When I consider what it should be, the difference between what I want and what is real hurts. It breaks my heart to see what’s in your eyes. Do not speak of it further, Meg, because my mind is made. I’d like you to have some semblance of a real life while you watch mine vanish day by day.”
Megan caught her husband’s hand. She lifted it up and placed it over her heart. “My life is with you for as long as we have. I’m happy with you, only you. I want to keep this marriage together as well as we can.”
“Campbell is a strong man,” Trevor said, “healthy, vital, impossibly good-looking, don’t you think?”
“Then you sleep with him if you’re so enamored of him, because the day I take that man into my bed is the day I lose all measure of sanity. I cannot believe you’re even suggesting this. He cannot be a decent man, he’s not to be trusted, and I don’t want him to be part of our lives. It’s enough that I must abide his presence in this shop, but I’ll have a say in who sits at my own table. And I will certainly decide who I take into my bed. Stop trying to give me away, damn it!”
“’Tis my table too, Meg, and I say Campbell joins us. Now do what I’ve asked you to do. Go outside and extend the invitation. And do not think this conversation is over. I will have more to say on it.”
Megan opened her mouth, prepared to argue, but Trevor’s brows rose, daring her to continue. The man was bloody impossible when he’d made up his mind to something. She gave him her most disgusted glare and whirled around, heading for the back of the shop. She heard Trevor’s laugh follow her out the door to the courtyard. She slammed the door just to have the last word.
* * * *
The courtyard was bathed in shadows, but she had no trouble finding him. A man like Alexander Campbell was impossible to lose. He had his back to her as he bent over a barrel of water. His head seemed to be submersed. She wanted to hold it there, perhaps even force it deeper. She did not want this man in her house, and yet everyone around her seemed to have lost his reason. She could not believe th
e conversation she’d just had with her own husband.
She stalked toward him, refusing to look at him too closely. She had a perfect view of his backside, tight and well formed, muscles straining against the soft cloth, just like every other perfect inch of his perfect body. She did not want to go any closer to the man. She stopped several feet away and waited impatiently until he got his head out of the water.
Maybe she could try once again to talk some sense into him. This man, this Alexander Campbell, hero, traitor, whatever he was, had already begun to stir things up. He was unpredictable. Someone had to take control of this situation. Her husband seemed determined to keep the barbarian, and now she knew why. She’d pleaded earlier with Sam to make Trevor change his mind, but Sam was unwavering, and now she understood that as well. How was she ever to look Sam in the eye after what she’d just heard? Sam would agree to Campbell’s presence if only to save himself.
Whatever Trevor wanted, Sam wanted. The two were impossible, always conspiring against her. No one seemed to give a damn what she wanted. No one but…
She glanced once more at that tight, impossibly perfect ass. She wanted to touch it.
Other than her insane physical obsession for Campbell, she wasn’t sure why she was desperate to have the man out of her house. So far things seemed well, but she knew that having him there opened the door to too many complications, too many potential problems. He seemed dangerous, too filled with potential fury, too powerful, too much of everything. He couldn’t possibly fit into their household for long. She liked things calm, tranquil, and she wanted Trevor to have a life where problems were minimal. They had enough right now, and Trevor was starting to talk crazy.
Then there was that wetness between her thighs. If she didn’t get rid of him, she was going to make another mistake. She had already made two, but she was trying to put them out of her mind. Three would be impossible to ignore, and each time Campbell touched her, she found it harder to leave his presence. He had wrapped some kind of spell around her. It was becoming almost impossible to hold in a smile when she saw him. Even through their arguments, she found him somewhat charming and endearing, as though she’d glimpsed a man she’d like to get to know better.
Campbell straightened suddenly and flung his head back. A web of black hair fell down his naked back, and cold water splashed across her, soaking her dress. She cried out, and he swung around, raking the wet hair out of his eyes. She stumbled backwards, nearly tripping on the hem of her dress. Whether it was the shock of the cold water or the sight of him she didn’t know, but she heard a groan that she knew came from somewhere inside of her, and it scared her.
“Oh, God.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was half naked, his bare chest gleaming with the water droplets that wove down his skin in a sinuous, hypnotic caress. The skin of his chest, shoulders, and arms was dark as though he’d been forced to labor long hours under the grueling sun. There was a distinct definition between the skin of his upper body and what fell beneath his hips. A pale line marked his flesh above his breeches and made her want to see the shade beneath. She’d thought his entire body must be that beautiful shade of brown, but now she knew differently, and she wanted to see what other secrets hid beneath his clothes.
The expanse of his chest was covered with dark hair that should have been able to hide the ridges of muscles beneath his skin, and yet somehow each was disturbingly visible, rippling and moving as he shook the water droplets from his body. She saw the scars that crisscrossed his flesh, but even they just magnified the impossible strength of his body. His wide shoulders, tight with bunched muscles, flexed as he ran his hands down his powerfully built arms, holding more muscles and another disturbing sprinkle of dark hair.
The mat of hair on his chest seriously distracted her. She followed the line of fur down his torso, over a tight, hard abdomen, and farther, to where it diminished and seemed to point directly to…
“Oh, God…” she said again.
“Do you often repeat yourself, mistress?” Her gaze snapped back to his face. He lifted the corner of his mouth in an adorable smile. “’Tis often a sign the mind is on the verge of collapse. I’ve seen it before in my village. One day a body seems fine, and the next, well, ’tis wandering the dusty roads in search of a listening ear. ’Tis the same tale over and over.”
“That’s how I’m beginning to feel,” she murmured.
He had shaved again, and now his cheeks were perfectly smooth, and the lack of stubble revealed a strong chin and a square jaw. She wasn’t sure, but it looked as though his jaw, like his nose, might have been broken at one time. He no longer looked wild, but he looked far more dangerous because she wanted to put her hand along the smooth planes of his cheek. His glance dropped down.
“Are you cold, lass?”
“No, it’s warm enough. Why?”
Suddenly aware of his stare, she crossed her arms across her chest. Her nipples hardened under the wet bodice. She hugged herself tightly, but his eyes widened. She realized her breasts had lifted and now peeked dangerously above the bodice.
“Master Campbell.”
“’Tis Alex, a mere humble servant to fulfill your every command, mistress.”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“’Tis what you are—the wife of my owner. You’ve pointed it out often enough.”
“I don’t like the way you say it,” she said.
“Then what shall I call you? Daring to say your name could cause some speculation, leading someone to believe we’re more than servant and mistress. Besides, when ‘Megan’ passes my lips, I think to kiss you.”
“Then please don’t say it. I couldn’t stand it because—” She snapped her mouth closed. If he kissed her again, she’d beg him not to stop.
“Because?”
“Never mind. I’d also appreciate it if your eyes were elsewhere. You should not be so bold. It’s not seemly.”
“The boldness doesnae seem to be mine alone,” he said. “If your gaze grew any hotter, I could burst into flames. I gather you like what you see.”
“How could I—?” Megan squeezed her arms across her chest. Bad mistake. His eyes dropped back down. “I most certainly do not.”
“Most women do. I was a fairly popular man in County Argyll. Had to beat them off with a stick.”
“I can’t imagine why. Sometimes you’re rude, obnoxious, arrogant—”
He slipped his hands into the waistband of his breeches and slid them down his thighs. When they fell to the ground, he gave them a kick. He put his hands on his hips and laughed when Megan’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh,” she said.
She felt something funny. The disturbing flutter started somewhere near her pelvis and spread an ache through her body. The heat seemed to spiral through her nerve endings, rose swiftly, and flamed in her face. She had an urge to plunge her face into the barrel of water, simply drown herself before anyone could see the look on her face, but Campbell had already seen it because he smiled. He took great pleasure that he could cause a reaction in her by his mere presence. That wetness leaked between her legs again, and the throbbing had started. She tried very hard to keep her eyes locked on his.
It was impossible. Her glance wavered. She tried desperately to keep it focused, tried to look anywhere else—the water barrel, the trees that dipped over the courtyard, the strands of his hair that blew across his smug face. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, and even that wasn’t enough. Her gaze dropped and landed exactly where she had willed it not to go.
“Now, do you like what you see, mistress? We’ve been slightly rushed, and you’ve not had a chance to actually see what drives inside you.”
When she felt her tongue slide over her dry lips, she wanted to fall through a hole in the earth and simply let the ground swallow her.
“Exactly,” he said.
“Exactly what?” she whispered.
She could not pry her eyes away. Campbell was the
first entirely naked man she’d ever seen. Even the times she’d been with Trevor she had lain beside him in the dark and they had been wearing nightclothes. She’d never seen Trevor’s body, but she knew that even healthy, Trevor’s body would never have compared to this man’s. Trevor had a lean strength, but this man had so much more than that. Even as she watched, his cock grew before her eyes, swelling, lengthening, thickening. It lifted toward his stomach. The blue veins darkened and pulsed with a terrible, fascinating rhythm. The skin glistened as it stretched tight, and a drop of fluid clung to the tip. She caught her lip in her teeth because she was so afraid she would reach out and take it in her hand. She wet her suddenly dry lips again.
“A lass gets a look, she wants to taste,” he said. “There were not enough sticks in all Scotland to keep me safe.”
“Taste?” she asked.
Her eyes rose to his, briefly, the merest of contact before they dipped down again to study him. Were all men made like this one? What jutted between his legs seemed impossibly big, and though she’d already had it inside her, she wondered how it had been possible. How had something this big ever fit into her body? And still it continued to grow.
“What hangs between his legs could give you a child, Meg.”
She could have a whole village of children with this man.
“Aye, lass, taste. A woman takes it in her mouth and sucks it until—”
“She does what?”
“Takes a cock in her mouth, strokes it with her tongue, sucks the length deep, licks the tip until the man comes. You’ve never sucked your husband’s cock? Pity. For some reason, women cannae usually resist mine, although you seem to be resisting well enough.”
“Barely,” she whispered.
He took a step toward her. “’Tis the same feeling I get when I see a woman’s nipple pert beneath the cloth of her dress. I want to lick and suckle. When I think of her pussy, I want to kiss the swollen flesh, suck the clit, dip my tongue inside, and taste the cream. I’d like to put my mouth on your pussy right now, but I imagine you’d scream bloody murder.”
Loving Two Highlanders Page 12
