Highland Love Song (DeWinter's Song 2)

by Constance O'Banyon

When his mouth moved across her breasts, Arrian thought she would faint from the joy that surged through her body.

  Warrick looked at her, his flintlike eyes softening, and in that moment she knew he was as moved by the experience as she was.

  She was not prepared for the hand that slid across her stomach and downward to spread her legs.

  "Now is the time to ask me to stop, Arrian," he whispered against her ear. "If you wait much longer, I will not be able to control myself."

  "I don't want you to stop," she said as he hovered above her, his lips parting as he lowered his head to take hers in a deepening kiss.

  "Release me from my promise," he said in a raspy voice. "Give me leave to take you to a world of pleasure and delight."

  "Yes," was all she could manage to say.

  He slid into her, filling an emptiness she never knew existed. A gasp escaped her lips, and she would have moved away but for the heat of his moist mouth, making her lightheaded.

  Fear entwined with burning pleasure at his invasion. There was a stinging pain as he jabbed through the narrow barrier of flesh. With another thrust he came to rest deep inside her.

  Warrick's hungry mouth devoured Arrian's lips, smothering the cry in her throat. She languished between pain—oh, such sweet pain—and lingering desire.

  His mouth moved down her neck to burrow between her breasts. Arrian slipped her fingers into his thick black hair and groaned.

  Warrick's body trembled with consuming need. He strained to hold his desire under control while he cupped her face and looked deeply into her eyes. "Who am I, Arrian?"

  Her body became a traitor as he slid back from her and then forward, making her feel she would faint. "You are Warrick," she groaned.

  "Every time Ian takes you, you will remember only me."

  She stared at him, her mind clearing. What had he meant? But before she could protest, he moved inside her again and she gasped with pleasure.

  Warrick felt as if he were wrapped in silk. Was he possessing her or was she possessing him? Her softness was driving him mad with passion. Her sweetness was filling his very being, and he knew he would never forget the enticing aroma of her satiny hair.

  His pleasure built with raw urgency, but he held back, wanting to make love to her slowly and lingeringly. He wanted to savor each consuming moment of desire.

  Arrian stared into his silver eyes, which were softer than she had ever seen them. Then he closed them as if he wanted to block out her face.

  Giving a forceful thrust, he plunged into her with a driving passion.

  Arrian could no longer resist. She was his to do with as he willed. His lips were brutal as he ravished hers, but she clung to him, begging for more.

  "Now," he whispered, "I have you, my lady."

  When he pressed her against his chest she instinctively began to move with him, her passion matching his as it raged wilder and wilder until it ignited into an inferno of pleasure.

  She heard him groan and whisper in her ear. "Do I have you, or do you have me?"

  Her body quaked, and she heard him take a gasping breath. Together they trembled, fusing as one. They were left breathless.

  For a long moment they lay in each other's arms, lingering over the feelings that neither could understand. As his hand slid across her breasts, she wondered how she would explain to her family that she could never leave Warrick. He had truly become her husband today, and she his wife.

  She wanted to hear him say that he felt as she had. But she was shy of the newfound love and could not ask it of him.

  He gathered her close, feeling the need for her once more. He took her softly this time, wanting to create a lasting memory in her heart.

  For hours he caressed her, made love to her, whispered endearments in her ear.

  Night fell, and shadows crept across the room. The fire had gone out and was replaced by a chill in the room. "We should be getting back," Warrick said.

  She moved reluctantly out of the comfort of his arms. "I never knew it could be like this between a man and a woman."

  A sadness filled her whole being as she thought of Ian and how she had betrayed him. She realized she would have to tell him about Warrick.

  He saw tears in her eyes and pulled her to him. "Did I hurt you?"

  "No. I was thinking of Ian."

  He wanted to hold her in his arms and never let her go, but her words brought him back to reality. She had just reminded him that her heart belonged to Ian Maclvors, a fact he had forgotten. Well, he would never forget it again.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to remember why he had brought her here today. "Ian may thank me for the lessons I have taught you here today, Arrian," he said.

  She stared at him in anguish, not understanding why he had suddenly turned cruel. A sob was building deep inside her, but she clamped her hand over her mouth so it would not be uttered. He could not have hurt her more had he plunged a knife into her heart.

  Warrick turned from her and began to dress. He bent to build up the fire, allowing her time to digest what he had said. When he heard her sob, he resisted the urge to go to her. Ian stood between them and always would. Warrick wanted only to remember the hate he felt for the Maclvors. He must not think of the love that she had planted in his soul.

  Arrian dressed quietly, thinking what a fool she had been to fall into Warrick's trap. Oh, he had been clever. He had wooed her with honeyed words. He had known just where to touch her to make her come alive. She had been hurt by his harsh words, but she wiped her tears away and straightened her back. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

  Warrick walked to the window and propped up his foot on the low window seat. "What would you do in my place if our roles were reversed, Arrian? If you came upon the perfect object to use against your enemy— would you not take advantage of that object?"

  "You are referring to me as an object?"

  "Perhaps that was a bad choice of words."

  She spoke through trembling lips. "I cannot answer you as you would like, Warrick, for I have never felt the ugly enmity that seems to possess you. But I think I would never use an innocent . . . object to strike at the heart of my enemy. My mistake today was in forgetting that we are enemies. I will not forget again."

  "Perhaps we both forgot for a time. But, like you, I shall not forget again."

  His eyes were probing as he looked for some trace of the Arrian who had surrendered to him. He saw only a cold, beautiful woman whose eyes defied him.

  She pushed her tumbled hair out of her face. "I have never known what it felt like to hate until today, Warrick. Now you have drawn me into your blood feud, and I resent you for making me betray Ian."

  Her eyes were glistening with the tears she was too proud to shed. "I fell in with your well-laid plans today. How you must have laughed at me. I gave you everything you need to wound Ian to the heart. Now will you let me go?"

  He held his hand up to silence her and moved to the door. "Finish dressing while I see to the horses. I'll take you back to Iron worth."

  When he left, Arrian ran to the water pitcher and splashed cold water in her face, trying to regain some of her composure. With trembling hands she pulled on her clothing and tied her hair back with a ribbon. An unwelcome tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away angrily.

  When Warrick returned, she was still pale and shaken. "I feel pity for you, my lord, because you use people for your own aim and then act as if they should thank you for it."

  "Don't pity me, my lady. I got what I wanted from you, and it took very little effort on my part. You were an easy conquest, Arrian."

  She wanted to cry out at the coldness of his words. She wanted to run at him, pound him on the chest, and make him hurt as she was hurting.

  She walked to the door and yanked it open. "I'll never allow you to touch me again, Warrick."

  He followed her outside and placed her on her horse. "Never is a long time, Arrian. And just remember, I didn't take you by force
. You were quite willing."

  She turned from him, feeling as if her heart would break. "I will be happy to be rid of you, my lord. Should the chance present itself, I'll escape."

  "I would expect you to try, Arrian."

  They were both silent on the ride back to the castle. Arrian gazed at the first stars of the evening that twinkled against an ebony sky. How cold and faraway they seemed, and how devoid of warmth—just as there was no warmth in her heart.

  When they halted their horses at the castle, Arrian allowed Warrick to help her from her horse. He held her hand for a moment, but she jerked it free and ran inside and up the stairs to the safety of her room.

  Warrick stared after her, wondering why the sight of her tears had struck him like a knife. Why did he feel lower than the vilest creature on earth?

  Arrian didn't bother to light a lamp. She stood looking at the sea that was no more then a darkened shadow creeping toward shore. She was filled with self-loathing. How easily she had allowed Warrick to use her. She had wanted him to touch her, to make love to her. She had to admit that she had thought she loved him. How could she love a man who was consumed by hate? Revenge had been his motive tonight, and that was what hurt most of all.

  She pressed her hand over her mouth, but it didn't stifle her loud sob. She buried her face against the curtains and allowed the tears she had held back to flow freely.

  Tomorrow she would feel anger, and perhaps remorse, but tonight she felt only betrayed by a love that had seemed beautiful and unique.

  Soon she would find a way to escape her prison. Then she would never have to see Warrick again.

  16

  Two days passed and Arrian remained in her room, fearing that if she left she would meet Warrick. Now she was Warrick's prisoner more than ever. Her meals were served by a maid from the village who was taking Barra's place until she returned.

  On the third day of her self-confinement there was a knock on the door and Arrian opened it, thinking it would be the maid, but it was Mrs. Haddington.

  "I've been worried 'bout you, m'lady."

  "I thank you for your concern, Mrs. Haddington. I'm just not feeling well and have kept to my room."

  The housekeeper looked her over carefully. "You look pale. His lordship's asked if you'll join him for dinner, m'lady."

  "No. Tell him I most certainly will not!"

  The housekeeper looked surprised. "He'll want ta know why."

  Arrian realized it would not be proper to involve a servant in her quarrel with Warrick. "Tell him I'm not feeling myself."

  "If that's your wish, m'lady."

  After the housekeeper had gone, Arrian wondered at Warrick's daring in asking her to dine with him. Did he think she would forget what had happened between them?

  Another day went by, and again Mrs. Haddington appeared at Arrian's door with the same request from Warrick, and once more Arrian gave the same response.

  Later in the afternoon Arrian heard a heavy knock on the door. She opened it to find Warrick standing there.

  Her eyes met his defiantly. "I wasn't expecting you, my lord. Apparently you didn't get my message."

  "Oh, I got it, Arrian. That's why I'm here. You look healthy to me."

  "If I had wanted to shame you in the eyes of your housekeeper, I could have told her the true reason I didn't wish to dine with you. I could have said no woman is safe in your company. I have no wish to dine with you."

  Warrick stared at her for a long moment. "It wasn't a request, Arrian, it was an order. I'll not allow you to close yourself off in this room."

  She glared at him. "I will not come downstairs."

  "Very well. I'll have Haddy serve us dinner in here."

  "You don't seem to understand, I don't want to be with you!"

  "I'll try to make it as painless as I can. We'll speak only of frivolous matters and forget what passed between us.”

  “I’ll never forget—or forgive."

  "I asked for neither. But I expect obedience. Which is it to be? Do we dine here, or will you come downstairs?"

  He would have his way again, she thought, raising her head and bestowing her haughtiest glance upon him. She was so angry she could hardly choke out the words. "I'll come downstairs, my lord, but you will not find me a very entertaining dinner companion."

  He reached out to her. "I have always found you to be delightful."

  She spun away from him. "Don't touch me."

  There was sadness in his eyes, or had she been mistaken? He turned away. "I'll see you at seven."

  Arrian came down the stairs wearing an emerald green gown with a high neck and long sleeves. When Mrs. Haddington heard her approach she came from the dining room to greet her. "His lordship is waiting for you in the salon."

  Arrian gathered her courage and moved through the door. Warrick stood up from the settee. He looked at her with approval.

  "I'm delighted you decided to be my guest tonight."

  She waited until the housekeeper left to reply. "Let us have no more pretense between us. I am not your guest, my lord, I'm your prisoner."

  He smiled slightly. "I don't consider you my prisoner, Arrian, but rather a very beautiful companion."

  Their eyes locked, and they both remembered what had happened between them.

  Arrian tore her gaze away, her face flushed. "I will not stay if you persist in making pretty speeches, Warrick—nor will I trust you."

  "Pity," he said, moving away from her. "I believe I would treasure your trust above all else."

  "Could we not eat now, my lord? I would have this evening over so I can return to my room."

  He offered her his arm, but she only stared at him. At last he laughed. "Shall we dine, Arrian?"

  She walked beside him to the dining room and sat down. "I don't suppose you have thought more about allowing me to leave Ironworth?"

  He lowered his eyes and studied the hand she had placed on the table. "You do wound me sorely, my lady.

  I'll not let you go just yet. I find I'm loath to part with you."

  Arrian hardly tasted the food, because she was all too aware of Warrick's eyes on her. He tried to make polite conversation, but she would answer him only with a nod of her head. She was relieved when the dessert dishes had been removed and Warrick stood. When he pulled out her chair, she rose quickly.

  "I believe I'll retire now, my lord."

  He towered above her. "Not just yet. You said you played the piano. I thought you might play for me."

  Arrian didn't even wait for him but made her way to the salon, knowing he was right behind her. She sat down at the piano and ran her hands over the keys, noticing it was slightly out of tune.

  She chose an old Scottish lullaby her mother had sung to her as a child. As the melody spun around in her head, she was overcome with homesickness.

  Warrick stood at her side, watching her play. "Do you sing as well?"

  "A little."

  "Please sing for me."

  Warrick was not prepared for the lovely golden voice that filled the salon. The tone was so clear that each note vibrated through his heart.

  Arrian was unaware that the servants had gathered at the door, listening to her song.

  When the morning sun doth rise

  and the heather meets the skies,

  I'll be waiting for you, sweet, bonny baby,

  for there's magic in your smile.

  So help me forget, sweet, bonny love,

  that the world is a cold, cold place,

  ere I look upon your face.

  With the candlelight shining on her golden hair, Arrian looked so beautiful that it brought an ache to Warrick's heart.

  When the last note had died away she raised her eyes to Warrick's. "May I leave now, my lord?"

  Before he could answer, Mrs. Haddington caught his attention from the doorway.

  "Yes, Haddy, what is it?"

  "Begging your pardon, m'lord, but my daughter's returned from Edinburgh."

  Arrian came
to her feet. "Has she news of my aunt?"

  "I wouldn't know, m'lady, but your maid's come back with her."

  Arrian suddenly felt elated. "Tuttle is here? Where is she?"

  Mrs. Haddington stepped aside, and Arrian watched the maid enter. A gasp escaped her lips as she stared at the woman dressed in a simple gray-striped gown and a stiff mob cap covering her glorious golden hair.

  "Lord love you, m'lady," the woman said hurriedly, "it's your Tuttle come to see you're being properly cared for."

  Warrick paid little attention to the maid, but he was glad she had come. Now perhaps Arrian would be better satisfied.

  "Tut . . . tie," Arrian said, stumbling over the name. "I wasn't expecting you."

  "You should'a known I'd come, m'lady. I see I've not come a moment too soon. Ye've been out too much in the sun and your skin's brown. And when did you start wearing your hair down? That just won't do."

  Arrian bit her lower lip to keep from laughing aloud. She wanted to run into the comforting arms of her mother, but she dared not. "Oh, Tuttle, you are most welcome."

  "I'm sure you'll have much to talk about, Arrian," Warrick said. "You'll want particulars about your aunt." He looked up at the maid. "I trust Lady Mary is well?"

  "That she is, m'lord. And she told me all about you. We'll just have to keep an eye on you, won't we?"

  Warrick thought he heard a warning in the woman's voice, but she had lowered her head and turned away, so he couldn't be certain.

  "Go along, Arrian. You'll want to see your maid settled."

  Arrian wanted to run up the stairs, but she forced herself to walk slowly while Kassidy followed. When they were in the bedroom with the door closed, Arrian was immediately drawn into her mother's arms.

  "Oh, my dearest, I feared I'd never see you again."

  Arrian closed her eyes, feeling safe at last. "Oh, Mother, I've needed you so badly."

  For a long moment they embraced, then Arrian asked, "Is Aunt Mary really all right?"

  "She's as saucy as you'd expect. I believe she should be with Grandfather by now. Her leg is far from well, but the doctor has assured me that in time, it will heal properly. He has cautioned her to stay off the leg, but when last I saw her she was hobbling about, defying his orders."