Something in the response caught her attention. She’d been away a long time, but she couldn’t imagine that things had changed so much at home that Malcolm wouldn’t have wanted Alan there with him. She was too tired to start a debate over it, so she let it go, telling herself she would bring it up again tomorrow. Something was going on between the men, but they hadn’t let her in on the secret.
“Thank ye,” Kirstie said as the events of the evening played back in her mind.
“What for?” Alan responded as the flame took, and he turned around.
“Saving me. I dinnae ken what would have happened if ye hadnae come along.” Rubbing at her injured wrist, she cringed as an image of the large man’s lust-filled eyes invaded her head.
“Just promise me ye willnae wander around by yerself here. This isnae Kentillie. There are too many men here who dinnae have any morals.” Sitting in a chair, he removed his boots.
“I thought ye were going to kill that man tonight.” She bit her lip while he removed his sporran and tossed it on the table then leaned down, his broad shoulders drawing her attention as he pulled off his boots.
“He reminded me of my father.” Alan’s eyes narrowed, and an unreadable cloud appeared, hinting at a storm that brewed in their depths.
“I never kenned him.” Pacing, she tried to picture the man.
“Be glad ye didnae. He was a drunk and a monster.” He unbelted his plaid and stood.
“Is that why ye dinnae drink?” she asked.
“Aye, I dinnae want to become him. He was most dangerous to those he was supposed to love.”
After pulling off the plaid, he draped it over the back of the chair. Alan was only wearing a shirt now, and she wondered how he could be so unaffected by her presence. The room suddenly seemed too warm, despite the cool breeze blowing in from the open window.
“That would never be you,” she said.
He looked away, but not before she saw a deep sadness cloud his gray eyes. “He beat us.”
A piece of her broke inside. No one had ever told her; it was like her family to shield him from those harsh memories. How had she not known? A child should never have to endure violence, especially at the hands of the ones who were supposed to love them the most.
Emotion simmered, hidden beneath the surface, but the words were delivered in a deadpan, dismissive tone. Alan took a step toward her. “Turn around.” When he made a waving motion with his hand, she obeyed because she didn’t want him to see the despair in her eyes. If she’d known when they were children, would she have been able to help him?
“I didnae ken he was like that.”
Risking a glance behind her, she was rewarded with a view of his dilated gaze fixed on her neck as he took her hair and draped it over her opposite shoulder. His fingers skimmed across her back, and she felt her gown loosen. Odd, she thought once the restrictive garment was off, she would be able to breathe better, but it seemed now that each inhale was sharper and didn’t fully reach her lungs.
“Aye, yer parents and Lachlan were the only ones who kenned what happened.” His fingers stilled, but he didn’t back away.
Twirling to face him, she held the gown tight at her chest. If she let go and dropped her arms, it would fall free. “And they didnae stop it.”
Exhausted, she moved toward the chair and let her dress glide down her arms, careful not to jostle her injured wrist with the material. Stepping out without looking back to him, she placed it next to his plaid. Last night, it hadn’t bothered her to undress in front of him, but something had shifted, and the way he’d looked at her tonight reminded her not of a brother, but of a man who wanted something more. Her shift still kept her covered, but she felt naked and exposed and thankful only one small candle was lit, because it hid the blush stinging her face.
“They didnae ken the truth until ’twas too late.” His gaze was off in a distant memory, and he took no notice of her. The flush receded.
“What happened?”
“My father came home from drinking like usual. That night, he started beating me because I left something on the floor and he stepped on it.”
Kirstie stepped closer and put her hand on his arm.
“Mother pulled him off, and he started in on her. ’Twas always in her stomach or side. Somewhere people couldnae see. That’s what they were doing to ye tonight.”
Voice drifting off, strong arms encircled her waist and drew her into his solid chest, so close she could feel his heart beating. He nuzzled into her, and her heart shattered into a million pieces at the pain and vulnerability he’d laid bare for her to see.
Continuing to talk into her shoulder, he held on tight. “He hit my mother too hard that night. She didn’t get back up. I tried to wake her, but I couldn’t. He threw the peat from the fireplace all over the house to hide what he had done. He burned the house down with us still inside and left.”
Tears rolled down her face as she thought about the scared little boy who had witnessed his mother’s murder at the hands of a man he should have been able to trust.
“How old were ye?”
“Eleven summers.”
“Ye were just a babe. Is that when ye came to live with us?”
“Aye, yer parents took me in.”
She’d never loved her family more, knowing now they had taken him in and protected him.
“Did ye ever see him again?” She ran her fingers through his thick hair and cradled him to her chest. Pain ripped through her to realize what he had endured and how he had kept it hidden from everyone. From her. Her heart bled for him.
“Nae. He’s dead. Drank himself to death one night. Yer parents went to see the body to confirm it was him.” Alan’s detached tone sent a chill down her spine, but she didn’t blame him; the lack of emotion was probably a way he’d learned to cope.
“I’m so sorry ye had to go through that. I cannae fathom how a father…” She couldn’t even say it.
“’Tis a madness. My father had it, the man who attacked ye tonight has it, and—” He choked on whatever he was about to say and released her, retreating to put distance between them.
“Ye should have told me.” Suddenly cold, she crossed her arms to stave the chill.
“Ye were a wee thing, and then, I only wanted to forget it.” He moved to peer out the window into the dark night.
“Ye ken ’tis no’ yer fault.” Taking a few steps closer, she came to his side. He nodded but didn’t turn to face her. “Yer a fighter, a survivor, and ye were just a child. ’Twas nothing ye could do.”
“Enough.” Shaking his head, he declared an end to the conversation, shutting her out. Inching in front of him, she reached up with her uninjured hand and caressed his cheek.
He drew her in and held her. Not knowing his intent, she did not sink into him and offer everything like she had on the night of their first kiss when he’d turned her away. His proximity and the confusion in her chest tore her apart, but he needed to be held. Whether the embrace came from a sister or a lover, she would be what he needed.
Her sides burned and her blood heated at the feel of his touch even through her shift. And a longing to be closer to him beat at her, so she attempted to squash it.
But her traitorous heart yelled at her, Just for tonight, let him love me.
She would give anything if he for once forgot who she was and looked at her as if she were a woman. She wouldn’t care what tomorrow brought if he would just lie to her tonight and tell her she was everything. It would be a lie, but she didn’t care; she would welcome the pain tomorrow for just a few moments of this aching need in her being returned.
Giving in and melting into his embrace, she put her hands on his hips, careful not to touch where he’d been hurt. She was sure the world went on somewhere around them, but time had stopped while he held her. It was as if he were a lover. Her heart pounded a rhythm deeper and stronger than any she’d ever known, and she thought it might explode.
Inhaling, she took in the warm, salt
y, male scent that beckoned her to tilt her head to his. To ask for his lips to touch hers and to beg for him to love her. He looked into her eyes, and desire flashed in his gray depths. It gave her hope. The intensity made her knees weak.
His lips parted and started the descent toward hers, then he winced and folded toward his hurt side. His arms fell from her, and she shivered as she lost the warmth of his body.
“Are ye okay?”
“Aye,” he said, but his gaze revealed the pain even as he tried to hide it. He nodded toward the bed. “Get some sleep.”
Too tired to argue, she climbed in and slid to the side by the wall. He followed.
“Sleep well,” he said.
“Ye too.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead just as a brother would do. Alan turned to lie on his back as far away from her on the bed as he could get. She wanted to fight sleep and enjoy just being beside him, but at the same time, she wanted to cry and scream at fate for the cruelty of the night.
For just a moment, she had dared to believe he could think of her as a woman. She had been wrong. She lay there and fought back the despair. She was on the verge of breaking in two, but thankfully the darkness claimed her.
Chapter Seven
Kirstie woke to Alan’s fingers dancing across the sensitive, exposed flesh of her arm. The simple gesture elicited thousands of sparks, erupting on her skin and leaving a trail of sensations tingling in the wake. She wanted more. It was surprising how aroused she was just from the featherlight movements of an innocent motion probably meant only to wake her.
Opening her eyes, she was enthralled by Alan studying his finger as it explored her flesh. He looked at her, and his lips curled up into a lazy grin. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the spell. This, yes, this is what she’d always wanted, to wake beside his smiling face.
His eyes were hooded and still full of sleep, but she was able to make out a raw longing that she’d never seen. A hint that maybe there was something for her hidden in the recesses of his soul. If there was, what was holding him back?
She wanted to reach for him and give him everything she was; her entire being was his for the asking. But last time she had put her heart into his hands and kissed him, he had squashed it along with her dreams. She was no longer a naive child, she was a grown woman, and she would do what she had to in order to protect what dignity she did have left. She wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to do it again.
Last night, between the fear of the attack and the drug from the physician, she’d been weak, letting herself fall into the old pattern. But no, she was different now. Och, she had to possess more self-discipline. That meant she needed to put distance between them.
“Ye are so bonny when ye sleep,” he drawled in a sated, sleepy voice that sent shivers down her spine and threatened her resolve.
She felt color rise to her face. “Ye are a nice sight to wake to as well.” Her own voice sounded deeper and husky. She barely recognized it, and why did her chest feel so tight?
“I’m going to do something I shouldnae.” His eyes slowly roamed from her face down to her thighs and then back up again. An unnamed intensity she glimpsed in his stare excited her, causing her pulse to race with fevered urgency as her vow of self-control dissolved.
“What will ye do?” She could barely get the words out, and when the throaty reply did come, her head spun with a deep awareness of him as a man. It was so strong she thought she would melt. Her heart beat erratically, and she was having a hard time controlling her breathing.
“I’m going to kiss ye.”
The words sent shockwaves of awareness and need vibrating through her so intense that some part of her was already screaming his name, and even though the logical part of her told her to flee, she couldn’t move.
His gaze never strayed from her as she focused only on him. The rest of the room blurred, and desire surged deep in her core. Licking his lip, he continued to watch her, a sweet torment that left her hot and needy and lost to everything else.
When she thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe again, his head slowly dipped toward hers. He paused just before her lips as if he were either going to change his mind or he was savoring the moment before knowing he was about to have the one and only thing he had ever desired. At least, that was what she felt.
She wanted so desperately to inch forward and make the connection, but her heart had some sense of self-preservation left. She remained still and waited. He smelled of warm covers and sleep and a woodsy male scent that beckoned and tempted her to make that final move.
Her gaze drifted from his mouth to his eyes that were so close she could make out dark blue flecks in their gray depths. She would have looked away if she could have, because whatever burned there was so hot it almost scorched her with a brand that would most likely never go away.
He groaned softly, and magic happened. His lips were on hers, and her whole body trembled at the desire that flooded through her. There was no part of her that she retained control of and that didn’t cry out to move closer to him, to cling, to become one with him.
The velvet soft touch deepened as his mouth widened to take in more of her lips. He did it again and then a small kiss, then his tongue delved into her mouth and found hers. She moved hers to match his, to dance and to tease and revel in the pleasure the caress elicited in her. Chest tightening, her breasts became engorged, and the thin material of her shift tightened around them.
His tongue left hers, and her hands rose to grasp his hips, ignoring the pain in her wrist but making sure he didn’t go anywhere. She faintly heard a husky, satisfied chuckle escape from his throat. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip and tugged gently. Her body arched into his and begged for whatever was next.
His hand slid up her thigh and took her shift with it. It rested on her ass and left a burning trail of need, igniting a flame so hot inside her that she thought she would burst.
He nipped again, and her hips pushed into him, needing whatever he had that would put out this all-consuming ache threatening to eat her alive.
“Alan,” she gasped.
His hand rose under the material and grasped her breast. The pressure of his large calloused hand on her sensitive skin drove her mad. Then his fingers pinched the apex of her mound. She saw small explosions behind her eyes as sparks of need assailed her.
A light knock sounded at the door, and Alan froze. She gulped and thought, No, no, no, go away. Dinnae stop. But the knock came again, this time a little louder.
“Alan. Kirstie.”
Her mother.
Alan’s face went white, and he looked as if he’d just been caught committing a crime. Retreating, he pulled away so fast that her soul went with him. Her heart shattered like glass all over again. All it had taken was one unforgettable kiss.
“Just a minute.” He stood and moved to the chair to collect his plaid and hastily belt it on.
Not capable of movement, she fought the sting in her eyes. She felt like a bucket of cold water had just been thrown on her. Her perfect moment was already gone.
Alan’s face was hard stone when he turned to her. “This was a mistake.” He shook his head. “I willnae let it happen again.”
“Alan, is Kirstie in there with ye?” Eslpeth’s voice filtered in through the door, but as much as she loved and missed her mother, her query had not penetrated the hazy fog of pain that had clouded the room. Sitting up, she pulled the covers to her chest like a shield against Alan’s hurtful words replaying over and over again in her head.
Mistake. Mistake. Mistake.
“Give me a moment, please.” He finished dressing and pulled on his boots.
Alan unlatched the door, and it flew in. A small, determined woman pushed him aside to get to her.
“Are ye hurt?”
Kirstie shook her head no but thought, Yes, yes, it hurts more than words can say. She was glad she hadn’t voiced it when her mother continued, “We heard about the a
ttack. How’s yer arm?”
Oh, she’d forgotten about that. Her mother reached out to take her hand and hold it up. It was still wrapped in a cloth bandage. “’Twill be fine. I barely feel it.”
Elspeth turned. “Alan, are ye hurt?”
“Nae, I am all right.” Kirstie peeked around her mother to see Alan stood by the door with arms folded to block the view of whoever else was there.
“I need to go. Ye cannae be seen with me,” Alan said as he turned and disappeared through the door, shutting it behind him.
Elspeth released the grip on her and leaned back. “Have ye two finally come to yer senses?”
She felt her face crumble. “He doesnae want me.”
It was safe to talk to her mother. Other than Blair, Elspeth was the only one she’d ever told of her affection for Alan.
“Did he tell ye that?” Elspeth quirked her brow.
“Nae, but he might as well have.” She pouted and glanced down at the bed.
“Ye are wrong. I’m amnae sure why he is holding back. He cares for ye deeply.” Her mother took her hands and held them.
“How would ye ken? I’ve no’ been home for ye to see him with me.”
“I ken how his eyes light and his ears tilt in when we mention yer name. ’Tis like a pup waiting for a piece of meat he kens yer about to drop from the table.”
“Yeah, so he can chew me up, swallow, and wait for the next.” She wiped at her eyes with the blanket.
“Ye ken what I mean.”
“Well, I am done with him. ’Tis time I moved on and stopped running.” She broke free of her mother’s soothing hands and crawled from the bed to dress.
“Aye, I agree. ’Tis time for ye to come home. I tried no’ to get involved and let ye two work it out, but that may no’ have been the best course.” Her mother gave a firm nod.
“I have pined after him since I was a child. I am nae longer a little girl. I will make my own happiness instead of waiting for him to come to me.” She pulled the dress up around her and tucked the shift under the material.
Highland Temptation (Highland Pride) Page 10
