The Highlander Who Loved Me

by Tara Kingston

  Surely he’d soon return. He’d think little of seeing she’d slipped into her combination, but the sight of her fully clothed might put him on alert. Removing her dress and shoes, she slid beneath the sheets. Perhaps she’d sway him to reveal his true intentions. After all, the Highlander was not the only one who could use tender kisses as a weapon.

  Click.

  Her breath hovered in her throat at the slow turn of the latch. She forced an exhale, then focused on breathing normally. She could not allow her rampaging emotions to betray her.

  Connor entered quietly, as if he expected her to still be asleep. “I’d hoped to rouse ye from slumber while ye were in my arms.”

  She propped herself up on her elbows and feigned a gentle, drowsy smile. It wouldn’t do to let him see how badly she wanted to confront him with the knowledge of his cruel betrayal. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

  “I had the most delicious dream,” she said softly. “Of you.”

  His dark brows cocked. Even in the dim light, she could make out the desire in his eyes. “Is that so?”

  “You were kissing me…in the most wicked way.”

  His gaze settled on her mouth. “That was not a dream, lass.”

  She gave her head a little shake. “I’d thought you decadent last night. But that dream. Well…”

  He stripped off his shirt. Ribbons of morning light danced against the powerful contours of his chest and shoulders, against the dark hair that feathered over his hard-muscled chest. My, how she wanted to touch that sleek, strong flesh again. Her mouth went dry.

  A sly, knowing look darkened his eyes. “Do ye care to enlighten me?”

  “So very wanton…I doubt I could find the words.” Johanna pressed her lips together, as if pondering a dilemma. She met his hungry gaze. “Of course, it would be easier to show you.”

  He prowled toward her on the bed and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Aye, that it would.”

  Coiling her arms around his neck, she pulled him close. Subtle traces of his natural musk filled her senses. Spending the morning in Connor’s arms would be delicious, indeed. But she couldn’t allow herself to be drawn into his spell.

  She nipped at his earlobe, feeling the tiny shudder of awareness that ran through his long, lean body. Nibbling the sensitive flesh between her teeth, she swept her fingertips over his shoulders, gliding lower, savoring the crisp texture of the hair sprinkled over his chest and abdomen. Sensual hunger filled her, penetrating bone deep. By Athena’s spear, she wanted this man. Pity he was a man who’d love her tenderly by moonlight and betray her at sunrise.

  She couldn’t deny she desired him. Even now, when she knew the truth of his deception. Her heroines would not be so naive as to fall into his passion-filled snare. But moral fortitude was easier when you were the product of ink put to paper, not flesh and blood.

  Gently, he broke away from the caress. “Ye’re a temptation, lass. That ye are. But first, we’ve got a matter to discuss.”

  She blinked, but quickly leashed her emotions. “I suppose I should’ve relied on words to paint the picture. It seems my demonstration has fallen short of your…expectations.”

  “Nay, even when ye’re clothed like a parson’s wife, ye’re enough to get a man thinking with his cock rather than the hunk of stone on his shoulders. But there’s one thing ye need to remember—never try to deceive a man who knows yer every breath.”

  “You think I don’t desire you?” How very wrong he was. She yearned for his touch, desired the strength and heat and power of his male body. But she could not allow that penetrating hunger to make her foolish and trusting.

  “I’ve felt yer pleasure. I’ve felt yer wanting and I’ve seen the hunger in yer eyes. Ye cannae fool me with an act. There’s something ye’re holdin’ back.” As he spoke, his gaze wandered, lighting on the fireplace. On the hearth. “Damnation. Ye’ve moved the rug.”

  Connor sprang from the bed, roiling the mattress like a ship in a turbulent sea. He crossed to the strong-box’s hiding place and snatched up the small, woven carpet in one hand. Jabbing at a small blemish at one corner of the rug, he kept his eyes on her face. “Do ye see this hole, lass? I positioned the tear at the hearth’s edge. But it’s been turned. What’ve ye done?”

  “Good heavens, such ado about nothing. I tripped over the blasted thing.” A blessing, how smoothly the lie flowed from her lips. “I had no idea you’d placed it with any deliberation.”

  Devil take it, he didn’t believe her. She could see it in his eyes.

  Crumpling the rug, he tossed it aside, crouched over the improvised vault, and lifted the board out of his way. Lock-box in hand, he stared down at her. “Where is it, Johanna?”

  She swung her legs off the bed and retrieved her dress from the chair where she’d tossed it. No point in conjuring clever lies now. Heaven only knew the man saw through every falsehood, whether of great or little consequence.

  “It’s not there. I’ve secured it.”

  His jaw set, hard-edged as flint. “Why?”

  “I have no reason to trust you.”

  A muscle near his mouth ticked as if she’d struck him. “Ye think I’d betray ye? Even now?”

  “Yes.” The word was bitter, but she forced it out. “Our objectives do not align. It’s time we both faced that fact.”

  He set the box on the floor with a small thud. Turning away, he pulled on his shirt. “So, ye think to go to him—alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ye know Cranston’s location?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I will find someone to provide transport. I still have payment to offer.”

  His fingers worked the buttons on his shirt. “Ye think to trust a stranger—most likely a thief—with yer safety?”

  “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”

  Again, that tiny muscle in his jaw ticked. But other than that muted reaction, his features betrayed little. “Ye don’t think I’ll stop ye?”

  She nodded slowly, pondering his statement. “I have no doubt you could. But you won’t.”

  “And why is that?”

  Johanna swallowed hard against the bitter pain in her throat. “You have no need of me now. If anything, I’ll provide an effective distraction while you and your brother hunt for the stone. You already have the map secured from Cranston’s reach. Now, you can retrieve that blasted bit of rock, curse and all. That’s what you want. What you need. You’ll have the stone safely hidden away before the scoundrel is any the wiser.”

  “Ye think ye’ve got this all figured out, do ye?”

  “Not at all. I’ve been quite the fool, really. I can only pray my niece hasn’t paid the price.”

  “If ye think that cutthroat will be satisfied with that book, ye’re wrong. He’ll kill ye both.”

  Once again, Connor thought to frighten her, but she had to obey the kidnapper’s summons. There was no choice.

  “And what chance will my niece have when you abandon her? Cranston expects me to find a way to him. He wants that book. And I intend to ensure he gets it.”

  Connor shook his head. “He wanted the map that leads to the stone. The book means nothing to him.”

  “He does not know the map is gone…he doesn’t know the truth.”

  “The bastard will know as soon as he gets that book in his hands.”

  “I need to buy time. That volume is all I have to barter. That…and the code tucked away in my memory.”

  “Bah, ye think the bastard will care about your bluidy secret? By the time Cranston and his thugs were done with yer brother-in-law, he would’ve spat out everything he knew about the stone. The man has no use for ye. None that involve words, in any case.”

  “But…you acted as if…the code might be of some value.”

  “If ye are telling the truth…if there is some mysterious code Richard Abbott decided to entrust to ye, it no longer matters. From what I know of the man, he wasnae the sort to withstand…pain.”

  A lead weight landed wit
h a thud in her belly. She inhaled slowly, drawing calm strength from the breath. “If that’s the case, why did you agree to bring me here?”

  “Lass, the most brilliant scholar couldnae answer that question.” He raked a hand through his dark strands. “Truth be told, I cannae explain my actions. Bringing you here was a mistake. I know that now.”

  Anger welled in her throat. “You do not view this as a betrayal?”

  “I cannae stomach putting ye in danger. I’m taking the ransom to the bastard.”

  Something in his gruff voice touched her, chipping away at the ice she’d erected as a shield. How she wanted to believe his actions were rooted in noble instinct. But Connor was not a hero who’d stepped from the pages of a novel. He was a man, flesh and blood with motives that had nothing to do with her. Nothing to do with desire. Nothing to do with passion.

  She couldn’t put her faith in him. Laurel needed her. And nothing short of hellfire would keep her away.

  Johanna blinked against the veil of moisture blurring her gaze. “And what of my niece? Who will be there for her?”

  “Ye think I’d leave the bairn to those curs?”

  “She has suffered. We both know that. Even if you keep your vow and bring Laurel to safety, you are a stranger to her. She may not understand that you are there to help, and even if she does, she needs me. I’m all the family she has here. Surely you can understand that.”

  “I do, Johanna. But that does not change how I feel. ’Tis madness for ye to go into that viper’s nest.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “I could say the same, lass.”

  He infused his words with regret, the notes akin to pain. Oh, he was a skilled deceiver. If she had not overheard his exchange with Gerard, she’d be tempted to believe his concern was for her welfare, not getting his hands on a cursed—and likely priceless—ruby.

  She steeled her heart. “I know the truth, Connor MacMasters. I heard you. And your brother. You intend to keep the book from Cranston, even if that means leaving my niece in the villain’s clutches.”

  He scowled. “So, ye were listening. Damned shame ye didn’t do a better job of it.”

  “I overheard enough to know you have no intention of taking me with you.”

  “Ye think I want to see a woman make herself vulnerable to Cranston’s kind? I dinnae want ye anywhere near those bastards. On that count, I stand guilty as charged.”

  “But what of your promise?”

  “I will honor every word. I will bring that child to safety. But I willnae stand by and watch ye put that pretty neck of yers on the line.”

  “My neck…my safety is not your concern.”

  “And if I say it is?”

  “Then you, Mr. MacMasters, are a fool.” Unshed tears scalded her throat. “Just as I am.”

  “Ye’ll get no argument from me in that regard.” Connor’s flinty voice stirred a sensory warning. “But if ye think I’m letting ye walk out of here with that book and a few coins to see ye to Cranston, ye’ve gone daft.”

  “I assure you I am not daft, as you call it. I am determined. I will find a way.” She showed him her back. “You have no right to keep me here.”

  He caught her shoulders and turned her to him. With one hand, he cupped her chin. His eyes burned with an emotion far more intense than passion. “I care about ye, Johanna. That gives me the right.”

  She held herself very still, willing herself to be strong, willing herself to remember that his words would not bring Laurel to safety, no matter how ruthlessly they lay siege to her heart.

  “You have already proven you are prepared to deceive me, no matter the cost. It appears I must walk this path alone.” Her voice cracked on the final syllable. How she detested the way her feelings betrayed her.

  He shook his head, his eyes hard as the cut of his jaw. “Alone? As if I would allow that to happen.”

  “I don’t see that you have any choice. I will not be deterred. I will make it to my niece. With you…or without you.”

  “There is a way.” He stared down at her, seeming to deliberate his words. “But ye’ll have to trust me.”

  “Trust? Such an absurd demand coming from a man who left the bed we’d lain in to scheme against me. Why would I believe a word out of your conniving mouth?”

  “Because ye have no choice. Even if ye make it to Cranston, he won’t free the child until he has the stone in his possession. Ye need the ruby.”

  The logic of his words punched the air out of her. “You never planned to surrender the stone. Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because ye need me, Johanna. Even if ye’re unwilling to see it.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The pain in Johanna’s eyes plowed into Connor like a brawler’s fist. Bugger it, she’d overheard just enough of his heated exchange with Gerard to conclude the worst. Her distrust was a dirk to the chest. Christ, she hadn’t even given him a chance to explain. She believed him to be as duplicitous as the cur who’d put the bairn in harm’s way. Hadn’t he proven himself by now?

  She’d taken the damnable book and prepared to distract him with a half-hearted seduction, but she hadn’t counted on her own body betraying the truth. Her words might’ve been sultry, but her touch had been strangely cool. She’d approached him like a woman performing a task, one last duty before finding a way to leave him.

  The ache in his gut was real. He was a fool to feel anything at all. It wasn’t as if he’d never felt the sting of betrayal. He’d watched his brother die after trusting the wrong woman. Hadn’t he learned a pretty face could be the ruination of a man?

  Johanna’s lack of faith carved an angry wound in his chest. After a night in his arms, she’d assumed the worst. After he’d worshiped her body, exploring the sweetness of the curves she concealed beneath too damned many layers of cotton and wool. After he’d loved her with a passion that permeated his being.

  He’d loved her.

  The thought seemed a mallet to the skull. No woman had ever kindled such desire, a wanting that permeated his being.

  Until Johanna.

  Bah! He was letting his bollocks do the talking. He’d never been such a bluidy fool. Love was for…other men. Men who didn’t live their lives one day at a time, never looking beyond the next mission. Men who didn’t lie down in a different town every night. Men who didn’t question if they’d live to see the next sunrise.

  Johanna had doubted him. Could he blame her? She’d been through hell searching for the child. Still, the look in her eyes had cut to the bone.

  He’d tell her the truth. Some of it, at least. And then, he’d retrieve the stone, rescue the bairn, and see Johanna Templeton safely on the first train to London.

  He met her cool sapphire gaze. “Ye believe I intend to abandon the wee lass?”

  “I heard you.” Her gaze locked with his. Unwavering. “I know your voice.”

  “Ye’re wrong, Johanna. I plan to save the child, whatever it takes. I wouldnae leave a bairn in Cranston’s bluid-stained hands.”

  Her lips pulled taut. “I know what I heard.”

  “Ye dinnae hear every word, every detail. If ye had, ye’d know how rash ye were to believe I’d cast my vow to the side. I am a man of honor, whether ye can see that or not.”

  “A man of honor?” She held his gaze. “Perhaps. But your loyalty lies with whatever has spurred this quest. Your family considers itself guardians of this blasted ruby. Why?”

  “There’s no time to explain everything ye want to know. But I can tell ye this. Since the days of Robert the Bruce, my family has been part of an ancient guild. As in olden days, we operate under a cloak of secrecy. Now we serve as Her Majesty’s agents, hiding in plain sight, if ye will. The Crown offers support…in its own fashion. ’Tis our duty to find and protect rare treasures. Some have no value beyond their part in our heritage, while others would bring riches beyond a king’s coffers. Among these artifacts are objects reputed to possess unique powers, qualities well beyond the
realm of physics, of what we normally believe possible.”

  “Such as the Demon’s Heart.”

  “Aye. I don’t give a damn about the nonsense Serena spouts about that bit of rock. I’d put more stock in the chances of saddling a water horse and riding it across the loch. But others…others have a different view.”

  “Your brother agrees with Serena?”

  “Nay. But he understands there’s much on this earth we don’t know. He’s cautious. As we should be.”

  Johanna scrunched her nose as if she smelled something foul. “All this talk of powers and magic does not frighten me in the least. Men and their foolish greed—now that is another story.”

  “Ye’ll get no rebuttal from me on that. Greed for power is a terrible force, even more ruthless than greed for riches. I cannae lead ye to Cranston and walk away. Ye must trust me.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her chin hiked, a fraction of an inch, just enough for him to see her determination. He reached out to touch her then, even though he knew that simple contact would weaken his resolve. Weaken him. But he couldn’t stop himself.

  Her gaze settled on his hand as her lips thinned to a grim slash. “And if trust is not an option?”

  Only the tiny tremor in her voice kept her words from slicing through him. Her distrust was not absolute. “Ye must, Johanna.”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “If I must lie, cheat, or steal to ransom my niece, I will. If I must deal with brutal men, then so be it. I won’t run, and I won’t curl up in some warm corner while you charge off like some knight after a blasted dragon. And I most certainly will not entrust Laurel’s life to a man who has made no secret that his driving purpose is to keep Geoffrey Cranston from getting his hands on the one thing he demands as payment.”

  “I’m no bluidy knight. And I’m not a fool. I don’t give a damn about the stone or the book or sodding Cranston. Ye think I’m putting my neck on the line because some poor bastards hundreds of years ago couldnae figure a reason for their hardship, so they conjured a curse to explain their woes? Ye’re wrong, Johanna.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “The only reason I’m still here is you.”