The heat that had radiated from her when he’d kissed her…the way her body had molded itself even more intimately against his…and the fire in her eyes that was so similar to the fire that shone in her anger. But it was different—hotter, brighter. Intoxicating.
She’d sent him headlong into a fit of rage one moment, and careening toward an untimely release in the next—with no more provocation than the brush of her against him through her skirts. But when she’d stiffened against him, it had reined him in fast—as much as his body protested—because he realized he didn’t want part of Scarlett. He wanted all of her, mind, body and soul.
And that left him in a fine mess since the woman seemed disinclined to come within fifteen yards of him. If they could just start over…
That was an idea, though how effective it might be, he didn’t know. Still, it was worth a try.
***
“What do ye say we call a truce?” he queried as she opened the door to his knock and he pushed himself past her.
“A truce?” she blinked at his unexpected intrusion.
What a woman—his wife and his home, and still she was surprised to see him there.
“Aye, a truce, mo gràidh. Ye’ll forget about the things I’ve said, and I’ll forget about the things ye’ve said, and we’ll pretend neither of us has a temper hotter than hades.”
She was silent for a moment, weighing his words. “I suppose a truce would not be completely uncalled for.”
“Good then. In honor of our truce, I invite ye to accompany me on horseback for a tour of the grounds.”
“But I’m already familiar with the grounds,” she explained in innocent observation.
“Aye, and ye’re also plenty familiar with horseback riding, I ken, but I didna think ye’d pass up the opportunity to try the new Arabians in the stable,” he dropped the bait, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist the fine horses.
A smile lit up her face, and he felt an odd pleasure at knowing he’d been responsible for putting it there. She shooed him out of the room quickly, but it was only to prepare for the outing, and she joined him in the front foyer just moments later.
“Lachlan?” she queried as he helped her up into the saddle of one of the four new Arabians.
“Aye?”
“What does mo gràidh mean?”
He chuckled lightly as he swung himself up onto his own horse. “It means ‘my love’, lass.”
“Oh.”
She kept her eyes carefully downcast, but he could still see what was going on in that magnificent head of hers. She was trying to figure out why he’d been calling her that. Did he mean anything by the name or was it merely an endearment he used for every woman in close proximity.
At present, he had no intention of telling her that she’d been the only woman he’d ever deemed worthy of the title.
Instead, he dug in his heels and the Arabian beneath him flew at near breakneck speed. If she’d kept up her interest in riding horses, he had no doubt she would catch up to him in no time. And he was quite right. He heard the mare’s hooves against the ground just a second before his bride came into view beside him. She wore the same smile she had when he’d proposed the ride, but there was exhilaration in her expression, too. “It feels like I’m flying,” she’d told him when they ventured out as children. It appeared she’d lost none of that excitement.
They covered quite the distance in a short span of time, but as they approached a heavily forested area of the property, he reined in his horse and she followed suit. It would be too dangerous to take the horses through at such a pace.
“Do ye remember that crotchety mare of your father’s? The one that would sooner stomp on ye than let you sit atop her,” he queried as they navigated the heavy brush.
“I do. My father tried for so long to tame her, but no matter what he did she would have her way or leave you seated in the dust behind her.”
He’d only meant to bring up a familiar memory, but it seemed a fitting metaphor for the lovely creature who was now his wife.
She laughed. “I rode her once—though I’d never tell my father so. She stomped and snorted angrily, but I managed to make it a full chain before she tossed me from the saddle.”
“Stubborn girl!” he chortled.
“That she is.”
“I was not referring to the horse, lass.”
“Nor was I.”
They both laughed, and some of the easiness of their past relationship emerged for the first time. They continued through the forest at an easy pace in relaxed conversation, not stopping until they came across a stream, tethering the horses there to let them drink.
He helped her down from her saddle and did his best not to notice the way her body swayed toward him when her feet were on the ground. The air seemed charged with electricity. With none of the tension between them that had been there since their wedding day, what else was there bubbled to the surface. And what was there was an undeniable desire that would no longer be held back.
His hands still on her waist, he pulled her to him, knowing now how she would mold herself against him. But this time, instead of standing there passively, her arms wrapped around him and her fingers twined at the back of his neck. Her lips parted easily for him, and her tongue would not be passive either. As he delved in, she was there, her tongue gliding with fervor against his own.
He’d known her body had wanted more than what she had been willing to acknowledge, but he’d never imagined this—this woman who seemed suddenly as desperate for him as he was for her.
His hands began to move, caressing her neck, her shoulders and her arms through her gown. Blast the wretched fabric that hampered what he really wanted! Still, he continued, grazing along her back, following the curve of her hips, her waist, her ribs. And every inch of her he touched seemed to send her higher, careening toward an end he was quite certain she’d never experienced.
And he was not the only one set on exploration; her hands had left his neck, traveling across his shoulders and the broad expanse of his back. Though novice hands, they incited the fiery blaze inside him more than anything he’d ever known. He slipped his hands between them, eager to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands, and they fit perfectly, though her gown prevented him from feeling her soft flesh.
As luck would have it, the gown unfastened down the front of her, and he lunged for the tiny clasps, surprised by the way his fingers trembled. But within a moment he’d accomplished his goal—at least enough to slide the fabric off her shoulders and to her hips. Nothing but her shift stood between him and the soft flesh of her ample breasts, and he slipped his hands beneath it easily, cupping her once again and grazing his fingers back and forth across her nipples. They grew hard instantly as she moaned against his ear, the most stimulating sound he’d ever heard. She pressed herself even harder against him, and her eyes grew wide suddenly, appeasing his male pride greatly. The minx that she was, she didn’t pull away; instead she continued to rub herself against him, fascination and heat in her eyes all the while.
It was him who pulled away, knowing he could not take much more of that without embarrassing himself thoroughly.
“I canna believe ye were meant for Calum,” he whispered aloud to himself, thinking her passion would have frightened the man even more than her temper.
But suddenly, she froze beneath him. She didn’t remain still for long though. Her hands found their way between them and she shoved with all her might. Unprepared, he stumbled back, staring at her in confusion. The difference in her eyes was subtle, but it was there. The fire that blazed in her green orbs was no longer an inferno of passion, but of anger, and something else…something she endeavored to tuck away quickly as she yanked up her dress. Pain? Sadness? What was it?
“So that’s what this was about?” she shrieked. “Lure me out here with false kindness? Exploit the knowledge you have of me, all to try to seduce me? You scoundrel!”
“Scarlett, ye’ve taken leave of your senses
, lass. I don’t know what ye’re talking about.”
“Have all your whores abandoned you since you wed? Is that what has reduced you to seeking the affections of your wife? Or has the lady you were meant for cried off, not willing to play mistress even if you never did want me?”
“Never wanted ye? Ye’ve gone daft, mo gràidh, for I’ve never wanted a lady more.”
“Lies! I wasn’t meant for you, remember? You said it yourself!”
He was silent for a moment, trying to figure out what on earth she was talking about. What had sent her into a fit of frenzy? And then some vague recollection came to him, some snippet of a memory. Young Scarlett was doing her damnedest to get out of the betrothal agreement between herself and Calum. She’d even gone so far as to fake a profession of love for him in her plight, right there in front of both their families. And that’s what he’d said to her, knowing she only sought to have her way.
“Six years! Christ almighty, you were a child then!”
“Well, that is still what you said, is it not?” she replied haughtily, but what she’d tried to hide away in her eyes quickly re-emerged, and there was no doubt what he saw—heartache.
She’d been young, too young for such professions. And he hadn’t been certain how he’d felt himself, even if he could have swayed his father’s decision—which he would never have been able to do. She’d been fourteen, and what he’d felt for her had been unclear, or perhaps not unclear. What he’d felt had been inappropriate given that he was four years her senior, and she, still too young to call herself a woman.
But she was no longer a child, nor betrothed to his brother. She was a woman, full grown.
“Aye, it is what I said, Scarlett, and I said it for your own good.”
“My own good? You…you…humiliated me and…you broke my heart!”
“Oh, mo gràidh, that was never my intention.”
“Stop calling me that!”
She dashed to her horse, untethering it quickly and throwing herself up into the saddle unaided, and she rode back the way they’d come, her dress still open and flying at a pace too fast for the uneven terrain beneath her. The foolish woman was going to break her own neck!
Chapter 7
Scarlett slowed her pace when she was certain she was well out of Lachlan’s sight, still listening and ready to set the horse galloping again if she heard any signs of his approach. But she heard nothing. As she emerged from the forest and into the clearing, she stopped altogether, fastening and fixing her dress before she ventured back to the house where there would be servants aplenty to gossip.
Once safely ensconced behind the closed door of her rooms, her veil of her anger fell away and she couldn’t stop what laid beneath from rising to the surface. She’d been so muddled by the fiery heat he evoked in her that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. In truth, if he’d not said what he had and jarred her from the moment, she would have given herself to him right there in the forests of Wendover. And then, she’d been so overwhelmed with emotion she hadn’t been able to stop the words from tumbling from her lips, letting him see the truth behind her anger. She’d swore he would never humiliate her again, and she’d allowed him to do precisely that. What a fool she was!
She paced back and forth across the room, not knowing what else to do with herself. She should leave. She should run away from Wendover. An intelligent woman could certainly find some means of existence. She’d travel to London and seek out work. Yes, that was a plan. And then she’d never have to see Lachlan ever again.
Damn it, but she did want to see him again…and again. But she’d played the fool long enough. She would not remain there as the unwanted wife to a man she had fallen hopelessly in love with years ago, a man who would forever view her as an unwanted burden. It was a rash decision, even for her, and she knew it, but she would hamper him no longer. The truth of it was she still loved him. Even more, she realized right then that she wanted his happiness above her own. And he would be free to seek it once she was no longer there.
Fighting back tears, she spread out a thin linen blanket on the bed and went in search of what she would need. She would not take anything that belonged to Lachlan, only the items that had belonged to her coming into the marriage—like her jewels she could use to barter with for a horse and a warm bed at night until she found herself employment.
But as she was tying the ends of the linen together a knock sounded at the door and panic coursed through her veins. She’d expected to have more time; that he wouldn’t come looking for her until long after she’d departed. Now what was she supposed to do? She debated ignoring the knock, willing him to assume she’d gone somewhere else in the house, but the door flew open a moment later, banishing the hope. She moved quickly, positioning herself in front of the bed and hoping he wouldn’t notice the cloth full of items on it.
“We need to talk, Scarlett,” he told her without preamble. “There are some things ye’ve mistaken sorely and it’s time to put them to rights.”
She didn’t respond—what was she to say?—and he must have taken her silence for agreement.
“Ye were young, mo gràidh, too young…”
“I told you to stop calling me that! I don’t need your lies.” Knowing his words weren’t true, and knowing what she was about to do despite that, made them all the more painful to hear.
“Nay, not a lie,” he whispered as he crossed the room to her. “It is the most truthful thing I’ve ever said to ye.” He looked down at her from no more than a step away, and his eyes held her captive.
She swallowed hard, trying to decipher his purpose. To calm her anger? To seduce her?
“What is this?” he queried suddenly, looking past her. His jaw clenched tight and anger flared in his eyes, but he swallowed it down. She was impressed—she never could rein in her emotions so easily.
But that meant he’d spied the makeshift sack on the bed, so now what was she to do? The truth, that’s what. There was no point in lying; he was far too intelligent to fool. “I’m leaving, Lachlan.”
His anger gave way to that cocky grin he wore too often—the one that made him look even more handsome and grated on her nerves nevertheless. “Nay, ye’re not, lass.”
“You’ll keep me here against my will?” she railed, drawing on the anger that sparked to life inside her.
“Aye, I will keep ye here, though I imagine it won’t be against your will if ye’d but listen to me, ye stubborn fool.”
“Stubborn fool, is it? Why I…”
“Hush!” he commanded, placing a finger over her lips. “Ye’ve said more than enough, and it’s my turn to do the talking. Ye were very young when ye made that declaration in front of our families, and I didna believe it was anything more than my stubborn girl railing at being told what to do.”
“Of course I didn’t want to be told what to do!”
“Shhh!” he demanded again, and she complied, albeit reluctantly.
“I confess I didna know how I felt. There wasna any other young lady who occupied my mind, who drove me to the brink of madness in every direction. Between wanting ye, and arguing with ye…Hell, I wanted to take ye and I wanted to wring your neck at the same time. But it didna matter. Ye weren’t mine. Understand?”
She nodded, but she wasn’t sure she understood at all.
“Calum’s death was a terrible thing. My brother was a good man, and I’d give my life to have him back. But I confess that the day I learned he’d passed on, grief wasna the only thing occupying my mind. God help me, Scarlett, I thought of ye. But I also thought of all the years that had passed, and how ye must have come to feel something for Calum by now…I didna want to come second to a dead man in your heart.”
What he was saying was unbelievable, but the honesty in his eyes was unmistakeable. Still, if she told him how she felt, how she’d felt all this time, she was risking making an even bigger fool of herself than she’d done before. If she left, she kept her pride. But if she stayed…could she have the one
thing she wanted more than anything? It was a greater risk than she’d ever taken and she was sorely tempted to grab for the sack on the bed and dart off to London, but…
“Lachlan, you’ve never come second. Never. I know I was young and we both know I didn’t want to be forced into marriage, but I never lied. I loved you. I’ve tried to forget it for so long, but God help me, I love you.”
“There now, that wasna so hard, was it?” he grinned.
She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind for such a response, but he laughed and pulled her against him.
“I love ye, Scarlett, with all my heart.”
And when his lips descended on hers this time, no part of her wanted to pull away in fear. All of the stiffness had gone from her body and she clung to him while his hands roamed over her. She could feel his frustration mounting quickly.
“Wives shouldna be allowed to wear clothes. The things just get in the way,” he joked as he unfastened the clasps on her gown. He didn’t stop at her waist this time, but continued until the gown fell away to pool around her feet.
She experienced a moment of hesitation when he reached for her shift next, but she called up her courage and didn’t stop him. And the look in his eyes when she was finally bare to him banished every ounce of fear and embarrassment that had threatened to interfere a moment before. His gaze swept over her hungrily just a moment before his hands followed suit, touching her everywhere.
And then his lips were on her body, kissing softly down her neck, leaving a heated trail over her collarbones. He cupped her in his hands as his tongue made a path across the upper swells of her breasts, and she couldn’t stifle the cry that escaped her lips as his mouth latched onto her nipple, drawing it into his mouth and suckling gently.
As much as part of her wanted to stand there motionless, indulging in the feel of his hands and mouth against her body, her hands would not be stilled. They covered every inch of his back, his sinewy arms and his hard chest, and she found the buttons that held his shirt closed and unfastened them as quickly as her trembling fingers would permit her.
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