TENDER FEUD

by Nicole Jordan

  “Meggie has done quite well these past few days,” Katrine offered.

  “I didn’t doubt she would.”

  “I’m teaching her how to use a needle…just for a few hours each day so far. She’s still young, and I don’t want to push her too hard at first.”

  When Raith didn’t answer, Katrine glanced at him. He was sitting very still, but the muscles of his jaw were taut, as if he were angry at something, or as if he were holding himself under tight control.

  “Flora said you sometimes read to Meggie.”

  Raith nodded briefly. “She likes poetry. It seems to soothe her.”

  The image of this fierce Highland laird reading poetry to a child seemed incongruous to Katrine. She wanted to ask Raith about it, but from the terseness of his replies just now, he didn’t appear interested in discussing Meggie.

  Giving up, Katrine twirled the sprig of heather between her fingers and allowed her gaze to wander over the glen. The heather had bloomed a tender shade of mauve, blending with the emerald green of bracken, while the first rays of sunshine bathed the glen in a misty golden glow. “This place is so lovely,” she murmured reverently.

  Despite his determination not to, Raith glanced beside him at the young woman he was doing his utmost to ignore. The sight nearly took his breath away. A ray of sunlight was striking Katrine’s hair, turning it into a cascade of fire, but the soft light in her eyes was somehow even more riveting. She had a way of looking at the world as if everything were new, Raith realized suddenly. And in spite of his best intentions, he felt himself being drawn into the beauty she felt so deeply. Worse, he found himself questioning his own manner of existence. When was the last time he had paused in his responsibilities, his hatreds, to enjoy the magnificence around him, even to see it?

  “This is nothing like home,” Katrine said in that same reverent tone.

  Raith studied her silently, remembering the letters she had written to her family. He had scanned them briefly to ensure she’d divulged no hint of where she might be found, but she’d given him no cause for worry. The tone was breezy and light, the pages full of observations about the beauty of Scotland and the many changes that had taken place in the Highlands during her long absence. The thought of her letters made Raith aware of how little he knew about this bonny, hot-tempered Campbell…and how much more he wanted to know.

  “Where is home?” he asked casually, even as he silently condemned himself for his curiosity.

  The question surprised Katrine, both because it was unexpected, coming from Raith, and because she didn’t know the answer. Where was home? Except for her sisters, she had never really been needed in her English aunt’s household, and now that Louisa and Roseline were grown, there was no pressing reason to return. Yet she couldn’t claim Scotland, either. Her Uncle Colin hadn’t even wanted her to visit the Highlands. He certainly wouldn’t want her to stay, not after all the trouble she had caused him by getting herself abducted.

  “The direction of your letters was Cambridgeshire,” Raith prodded when she was silent.

  “Yes,” Katrine replied, further surprised by his persistence. “My Aunt and Uncle Gardner live there. They took us in when my father was killed at Culloden—” Breaking off, she shot Raith a quick glance. She regretted bringing up the past enmity between their clans, for it was sure to rekindle the usual antagonism between them. But Raith merely watched her with what seemed like genuine interest.

  “Both my sisters live there, too,” Katrine went on hurriedly. “My youngest sister only recently married, shortly before I came to Scotland.”

  “And the other? What of her?”

  “Louisa? Why, she’s married, also. She’s expecting her second child shortly. I’m hoping for a girl, since her first was a boy…” Katrine’s voice trailed off when she realized that she’d wandered onto another forbidden topic of conversation. If Raith had lost his wife to childbed, he wouldn’t be pleased to hear her prose on about her delight in having a new niece or nephew to love. Surprisingly, he only settled his shoulders more comfortably against the tree trunk.

  “And you? You never married, I take it.”

  His question was polite, his tone benign, if not even friendly. But for the first time in her life, Katrine came close to regretting her spinsterhood and her lack of suitors. She would have liked for the handsome, virile Highlander sitting beside her to think that other men found her appealing. Which was absurd. What difference did it make what Raith MacLean thought of her? She would never earn his good opinion, not when he had seen her at her worst.

  To cover her confusion, she gave a rueful laugh. “Me? Who would have me to wife? You’ve pointed out the failings of my sharp tongue and shrewish disposition often enough. The Englishmen of my acquaintance are too mild-mannered to wed someone like me.”

  At the odd look Raith gave her, Katrine fell silent altogether, wishing she hadn’t mentioned Englishmen, which was another point of contention between them.

  Yet Raith wasn’t thinking of the English. He was wondering how any man could have been put off by Katrine’s manner, once he came to know her well. It was true, Raith decided, that she wasn’t the kind of shy, delicate female men elevated to a pedestal, yet she was far more interesting than the gentle, sweet-tempered lasses with whom he was familiar. He himself was coming to enjoy her spirited conversation and clever retorts, despite his best intentions. And she was every bit a woman. It was becoming harder and harder for him to deny that he found her desirable. He knew to his detriment that she could rouse him to passion. Otherwise he would have been able to resist kissing her that afternoon in the glade. Otherwise he wouldn’t be feeling such a strong urge to do so again.

  Clamping down the urge, Raith watched as Katrine suddenly uncurled her slim legs and let her feet dangle in the rushing water. The gasp she gave told him how cold she found it. After a moment, though, she reached down to swirl her fingers in the burn.

  “My father once took me wading in the loch near our house,” Katrine murmured with fond remembrance. “If I hadn’t nearly drowned, I think he would have taught me how to swim.”

  Scooping up a handful of the clear water then, she raised her cupped hands to her lips and drank. The taste was so sweet and cold that the next time she drew up water she tilted back her head and let it dribble into her mouth. It was a childish pleasure, but so exhilarating that she felt like laughing.

  Intrigued, charmed, Raith found himself wanting to join her. “You look about Meggie’s age,” he commented, his tone amused.

  Katrine shot him a questioning glance, wondering if he was being critical, but instead his lips were curved in a smile…the kind of smile he reserved for Meggie—pure and sweet and gentle. The resulting warmth that shot through her sent color rising to Katrine’s cheeks.

  “So what brought you to the Highlands?” Raith asked after a moment.

  She was glad for the distraction of his question. “Would you believe me if I said I was looking for adventure?”

  “Should I believe you?”

  “Well, of course,” she retorted archly. “I’m not in the habit of telling falsehoods. I wanted to return to my birthplace, certainly, but the real truth is that I was tired of seeing nothing but flat fields of leeks and cabbage. You can’t imagine how dreary East Anglia is, particularly compared to this. And anything would be more exciting than living in my aunt’s household.”

  A hunger for adventure and excitement, Raith reflected silently, understanding something of what drove her. This lively, prickly, fiery lass had a passion for living that was almost palpable. It made him wonder what he had been missing in his own life.

  “But I think I took on more adventure than I bargained for,” Katrine added with another glance at Raith, her green eyes dancing with rueful humor.

  Something deep inside him stirred helplessly. I want her, he thought with a conviction that was as powerful as the fierce desire that was streaking through him. This is madness, but I want her. He tried telling himself h
ow perilous this situation was, how utterly inappropriate it was, reminding himself who he was, who she was. But he lost the battle with himself. Slowly he reached out to catch a drop of water that had gathered on her chin.

  His gentle, intimate caress suddenly made Katrine profoundly conscious of Raith’s nearness, of his disconcerting gaze upon her. Abruptly she ceased her play and turned to stare at him. His breath had stilled; his eyes were blue and intense.

  Her heart suddenly took up an erratic beat. She was far too aware of the heated look Raith was giving her, of the smooth expanse of bronzed skin that was close enough for her to touch if she wished to. She stared back at him, for once in her life feeling shy and vulnerable. She didn’t know how to deal with a man as virile and dangerous as he. Her lips parted in silent protest as his hand slowly came up, wrapping itself in a thick strand of her hair.

  “Are…you going to…kiss me again?” She had to force the words out, her voice weak, her tone reedy.

  “What do you think?”

  How could she answer that when the hot sensations he was stirring in her made it so difficult for her to think? “Why…do you always…” Katrine replied breathlessly, “answer a question with a question?”

  “Hush,” Raith murmured. “Don’t talk when I kiss you. Close your eyes, Katrine.”

  She was powerless against the heated longing he aroused in her. Obediently her eyelids fluttered shut.

  At her surrender, Raith made one final effort to reason with himself. His gaze skimmed her face. Her radiant skin had the luminescent quality of a priceless pearl.... Slowly he drew her closer, even as he silently cursed her for her desirability, and himself for his damnable weakness. More slowly still, he released her hair to slide his fingers around her neck, caressing the nape.

  The gentleness of the gesture drew a soft, startled gasp from Katrine. His hand was warm, heavy, filled with power. She could feel his breath on her lips. And in the next moment she felt the incredible warmth of his mouth as it softly covered hers, the stunning hardness of his body as he enfolded her close to his chest. Her desire ignited in a single instant; she went all soft and trembling in his arms.

  It was several heartbeats later that he slowly broke off the kiss. “Witch,” Raith breathed against her lips.

  At the rasped word, Katrine tried unsuccessfully to get hold of her spinning thoughts. “You…you said I was a viper,” she protested weakly, with the last vestige of her sanity.

  “No…I said you had a viper’s tongue. But I was wrong, oh so wrong. Give me your tongue, bonny Katie.”

  His mouth came down on hers again, this time with more urgency, his tongue seeking and twining with hers while he drew her fully against his muscular body. Helplessly yielding, Katrine clung to him. The bare skin of his shoulders felt warm, hot beneath her clutching fingers. The hungry plundering of his mouth was making her burn with a feverish yearning. Oddly, she had the sensation of falling, and only realized it was because Raith was pressing her down when she found herself lying on the carpet of moss beside the burn, with Raith’s heavy frame half-covering her own slender one.

  His mouth left her then, as he supported his weight on one elbow. Katrine’s startled eyes opened. Her irises had darkened, Raith noted, to the color of the moss beneath her head.

  “Please…don’t stop,” she whispered.

  His gaze took in the blazing riot of curls framing her flushed face, and desire flared through his senses. “No, certainly not,” he soothed as he looked down into eyes that were full of new sensations, wide and soft and hazy. She was unawakened, and the thought of being the man to waken her was a sweet agony in his loins.

  Slowly, so as not to startle her, he pressed his fingers against her glistening lips in an intimate caress, before letting his hand move down the white column of her throat. Her bosom was modestly covered with a square of muslin, and when he had dispensed with the kerchief, he slowly drew down the stiffened fabric of her bodice to bare her lovely breasts. He caught his breath at the sight, his gaze devouring the exquisite shape of her exposed flesh. The rosy nipples were already peaking with desire.

  Katrine could barely breathe; the ability had all but deserted her. She kept her eyes on Raith’s face. His skin was stretched taut over his hard cheekbones, and slightly flushed beneath his tan, while his eyes blazed with some indefinable light. When his thumb moved to stroke her nipple, she made a small strangled sound deep in her throat. And then he bent his head. She felt the soft brush of his breath before his mouth closed wet and forbidden over the cresting tip. Katrine shuddered. The sensation streaking through her body was so excruciatingly pleasurable that she wanted to scream. His tongue danced with tantalizing intimacy over and around her aching nipple. She was only vaguely aware that the soft whimpers she heard were actually coming from her.

  “Raith…” she pleaded, blindly threading her fingers through his coal black hair, not even knowing what she was pleading for. But he appeared not to have heard. Instead he went on slowly, painstakingly, mercilessly continuing the tender torment…tasting, licking, laving first one throbbing peak, then the other, sending shafts of heat darting through her body.

  Yet she could feel the responsive heat in his own aroused body, for he was pressing her down, slowly grinding the hardness of his masculinity against her with each sensual movement of his tongue. At length, though, his urgency increased and his lips tugged more hungrily at her. Katrine’s shoulders strained off the ground as she tried to get closer to his mouth, to his body, striving to find ease for the fierce, throbbing ache he was creating within her.

  Obligingly, Raith slid his hand downward, caressing as he drew her skirts up, molding the slim shape of her leg, the smooth velvet skin. Touching her like that sent need licking through his veins. Slipping his hand beneath her opposite thigh and raising her knee, he angled his body so he could use his mouth to full advantage.

  Almost worshipfully, Raith pressed his lips against her inner thigh, forcing himself to go slowly, realizing how shaky his control was.

  His mouth moved upward, along her thigh, his slow fevered kisses drawing another trembling shudder from Katrine. Her quivering moan echoed in his thoughts, exciting him further, making him realize how near he was to the ecstasy her lovely body promised…making him aware of precisely what he was doing....

  Suddenly he stilled, a muffled groan sounding in his throat.

  He drew a labored breath.

  Forcibly, with a low, whispered curse, Raith rested his forehead on the smooth skin of Katrine’s thigh. He had never intended to let it go this far; he could never have explained how it had happened. But he knew he couldn’t let it go further.

  In agony, Raith rolled off her, onto his back, flinging a forearm over his eyes, shutting out the sight of Katrine, wishing he could shut out the sound of his rapid breathing as easily, wishing he had never laid eyes on her.

  Katrine lay there, startled, not knowing what had happened to cause his sudden withdrawal, not knowing what had caused the pulsing void that seemed to cry for fulfillment, or what to do about it.

  “Raith?” She gazed at him in bewilderment, but he wouldn’t look at her. “Raith,” she said shakily. “What is it?”

  “You had better…go back to the house.”

  “Go back?” She sounded confused.

  “Katrine…” He sounded tortured. “Please, just go.”

  She swallowed hard, wondering what she had done wrong, how she had displeased him.

  “This should never have happened,” he said at last, in a voice so low she barely heard.

  The enormity of what she’d nearly done finally occurred to her; like a wanton she had allowed Raith to make love to her, returning his kisses measure for measure, offering her body to him for his pleasure and her own. If he had wanted her, she would have given herself to him totally.

  She ought to feel acute shame. So why instead did she feel this mortification in the pit of her stomach, not because of what Raith had done, but because of what he
hadn’t finished? And why did she feel the fierce ache of tears at the back of her throat?

  Hurriedly, not wanting to break down before him, Katrine fumbled with the bodice of her gown, covering her breasts, which were tender from his lavish caresses. When she was done, she climbed quickly to her feet. But then she stood awkwardly, not wanting to leave with things so raw and unsettled between them.

  “You aren’t coming?”

  Raith forced himself to look at her then, but the sight of her love-swollen mouth made him close his eyes again. “I’ll follow in a minute. I can’t return in this state.”

  She couldn’t pretend to misunderstand him. The evidence of his arousal was hard and bulging beneath his kilt. Ordinarily such a reference to so intimate a function of a man’s body would have brought a blush to her cheeks, but her cheeks remained pale and waxen. When the silence drew out, she turned and slowly walked away, feeling lost.

  Raith lay there unmoving, guilt, anger, remorse and selfdisgust churning in his gut. How could he have allowed things to go so far? How could he have allowed himself to lose sight of who she was? A Campbell and a Sassenach. There was no more deadly a combination. Unless it was a young virgin under his protection. And Katrine Campbell was all of those.

  God’s mercy, Raith thought with bitter irony. Of all women, he wanted only her.

  Katrine got through the day in a trancelike state. The early morning encounter with Raith had left her dazed, with emotions staggering for balance.

  Mechanically she took Meggie through her drawing lessons, but the child had to tug on her sleeve more than once to get her attention. Otherwise, Katrine’s thoughts were focused on what had nearly occurred in the glen.

  She had heard enough servant talk in her time to know generally what happened when a man and a woman made love. Moreover, she had grown up on a farm, and her married sister had sometimes discussed the physical side of wedlock. Katrine had even been present when Louisa instructed Roseline about what to expect on her wedding night. At the time, Louisa’s frank references to lovemaking had embarrassed Katrine. She’d never expected to want to submit to a man’s pawing attentions. For all her dreams about finding a soul mate, she hadn’t meant it in the physical sense, merely spiritual.