Daring

by Jillian Hunter

  “Do you know a man named Sebastien who lives in Edinburgh? He may have had dealings with the Chief.”

  She mulled this over for a moment. “No. Why?”

  “Because he seems to know quite a bit about you,” Connor said with a scowl.

  “That’s very flattering.”

  “It isn’t flattering,” he said. “It’s disturbing. I don’t like other men being that interested in you. You’re daft if you think I’m going to allow it.”

  She put down her wineglass and reached for his hand. “You’re turning dark in the face, my lord. I wish you wouldn’t worry. I told you I wasn’t afraid anymore.”

  “But I am,” he said quietly, grasping her hand in his powerful grip. “I’m afraid of what I feel for you, that someone will hurt you because of me. I’m afraid for my sisters.” He slid out of his chair and pulled her down against him, gripping her against his massive chest. “I need you so badly, lass.”

  The brilliant arguments, the veneer of sophistication crumbled to dust in her presence. He was the lion captured by the princess. The beast that would lay down its life for the chance to win her love.

  Maggie came without resistance, stroking his face with her hand. A shudder of raw desire went through Connor’s large body at her touch. Everyone assumed he had no weaknesses, but he did. He yearned for tenderness. He yearned to be accepted for his flaws as well as his strengths.

  “You’re seeing me at my worst,” he said, embarrassed by his emotions. “When everything is over, you’re going to marry me.”

  She leaned back to look at him. “That’s a nice thought, Connor, but you’ll have to ask—”

  “I’m not asking anybody,” he said forcefully. “The matter is not open for debate. Especially not after tonight.”

  She looked intrigued. “What’s going to happen tonight?” she whispered, unconsciously holding her breath.

  Devilish lights danced in his eyes. “You aren’t leaving this room until I make you mine.”

  Before she could react to this display of male assertion, Connor worked her robe open to the waist, loosening the sash with a skillful tug. Maggie gasped in astonishment at his audacity and sat bolt upright in his lap.

  Connor himself was in shock, immobilized by a powerful surge of desire that robbed him of speech. She was naked under her robe. Sinfully, deliciously, temptingly nude. He drank in the sight of her like a beggar drowning in a fountain of wine, her full rose-peaked breasts, her belly, the dark triangle of hair between her legs. He had trouble breathing.

  She was lithe and tiny, perfectly fashioned. Soft, sensuous, unique. His throat closed over an animal growl. His heart thundered against the wall of his chest.

  “Dear God,” he exclaimed, shaking his head incredulously. “Where are all your clothes?”

  “Upstairs,” she said in irritation. “I’d just taken a bath when I realized I hadn’t let Daphne out for her evening puddle. I popped in to wish you good night, never dreaming that I was to be rendered naked for ravishment.” She yanked the robe back together at the neck.

  He gave her a beastly grin and, with a flick of his wrist, rendered her naked again to his hungry stare.

  “Ravishment, is it?” He untied the sash at her waist, using it to drag her into him. “Am I expected to live up to my reputation?”

  “I am inexperienced, my lord,” she said primly, drawing her knees into her body.

  “Oh, I know.” His voice was tender; the passion in his eyes was not. “My very own little virgin. Mine to ravish and enjoy.”

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Her hair tumbled down over her bare arms and breasts. It was such an erotic sight that Connor couldn’t help himself. He cupped her chin in his hand and bent to kiss her. Then, grasping her wrists in his other hand, he gently forced her back down onto the rug. The firelight illuminated every inviting swell and hollow of her supple form. Aroused beyond belief, he brushed his lips back and forth across hers with deliberate sensuality. She arched upward in anticipation.

  “How can anyone so small have such an unsettling effect on me?” he mused aloud. He smoothed the curls from her face, his deep voice amused. “Why are your eyes squeezed shut, Maggie? Am I really such a beast that you can’t bear to look at me when we make love?”

  She cracked open one eyelid at a time. “You are not a beast at all,” she said. “You’re the most beautiful man in the world, if not a little overpowering. It’s just that you’re so good at this sort of thing. I’m nonplussed, that’s all.”

  “What sort of thing?” he teased, blowing in her ear.

  “Seductions—well, at least I can’t accuse you of stealing my virtue because you have a trial in the morning.”

  “What does a trial—ah, yes, the virgin on the eve of battle.” A smile flickered across his face. “I’d forgotten about that particular rumor.”

  Maggie hoisted herself up on her elbow to frown at him. “I notice that you aren’t denying it. Is it true?”

  He took his sweet time before satisfying her curiosity. “Well, lass, like most rumors, I suppose it had its origin in a kernel of truth.”

  She nudged his hand off her hip. “How big a kernel?”

  “I suppose that somewhere in the hazy past I might have seduced a woman who was passing herself off as a maiden on the eve before I opened a case.”

  “You don’t remember?” she said crossly.

  “I don’t remember any of the women I met before you came along,” he answered, settling his hand back on her hip. His thumb traced the fragile curve. “Was there anyone else?”

  He moved his mouth down her throat to her breasts. Everything about her aroused him. The breathy sigh of enjoyment that escaped her only made him more excited. When she arched against him, he felt his body harden in answer. His hands trembled when he touched her. “You’ve changed my life, Maggie,” he whispered. “I never used to do things like shoot up scarecrows, and lift carriages out of bogs.”

  She smiled. “I can’t take all the credit. The Chief always says a man never knows his mettle until he’s pushed to the limit.”

  Connor exhaled through his teeth. “I’m pushed to the limit right now.”

  “You mean…”

  He began to unbutton his shirt. “Yes, lass. That’s exactly what I mean. No, don’t shy away. I want to feel your body next to mine.”

  The warmth of her soft flesh against Connor’s bare chest was a delightful shock to his system. He took his time exploring the contours of her body. He marveled at how flawless and fragile she was.

  “Maggie, we have a problem.” He breathed a sigh into her hair. “A serious problem. It’s been on my mind since this morning.”

  “I know.” She cuddled up contentedly against his chest. “Breakfast nearly killed me, too,” she confided. “I didn’t want to hurt Claude’s feelings, but I had indigestion for hours.”

  He skimmed his forefinger across her buttocks, tracing the sweet cleft. “Breakfast, although an abomination to the human stomach, isn’t the problem.”

  “You’re right.” She shivered as he splayed his hand over her belly, his thumb circling her navel. “The burnt salmon we had for supper was. I haven’t felt well since.”

  “In two weeks I have to return to Edinburgh to take office,” he continued. His hand drifted lower. He began to stroke the downy softness between her thighs. “I had been considering asking Donaldson to come here and take care of you. Of course that’s out of the question now. Everything has changed.”

  “It certainly has.” Maggie’s breath rushed out. What was he doing to her? “I can’t go back to Heaven’s Court.”

  “Good God, no. The Lord Advocate’s wife? I should hope not.”

  “Assuming that I agree to marry you. I might just prefer to remain a witness.”

  He smiled darkly, his eyes burning with an emotion that made her feel like he was holding her heart over a red-hot flame. “Then I’ll have to put you under arrest,” he said with mock regret. “The Court is b
ringing a charge against you for the malicious mischief you inflicted on the night of October twentieth.

  “And”—he dragged his hand over the tangle of curls between her thighs—“for the mischief you’ve inflicted on me every night since. How do you plead?”

  “Who is to be my judge?” she whispered.

  “I am.”

  “And the jury?”

  “Judge, jury, and jailer. This is a one-man courtroom, lass.”

  “In that case, I suppose I shall have to throw myself at the mercy of the court.”

  He laughed softly. “This court is not known for its mercy.”

  Maggie stiffened as he slipped his finger inside her, stroking, rubbing, stretching her tender flesh. His mouth went dry as he stared down into her face. He loved her reaction, her blend of inexperience and instinctive passion as she moaned, her muscles tightening around his finger. He loved the wet heat of her.

  “Are you—” She caught her breath. “Are you sure this is legal?”

  “Search and entry,” he whispered with a wicked smile. “The Court is exercising its right to make sure you aren’t holding anything back from us.”

  “As if I’d dare.”

  “Is that a smile I see on your face, Miss Saunders? I assure you the complaints against you are quite serious… and my cross-examinations have been known to go on for days.”

  “Days?” she whispered, shaking with pleasure.

  “Sometimes weeks. Oh, Maggie.” His husky voice wove a spell over her senses. “I don’t think I can wait. You’ve destroyed me.”

  The fire shadows played up the size and virile strength of his body. She could sense the power he held in check, the passion.

  He sat back to take off his trousers. Maggie’s gaze lifted to the mantelpiece. “I hope Claude remembers to let Daphne in for the night. Do you think that I should remind him?”

  “Right now?” Connor said in horror.

  “It will only take a moment.”

  He sighed. His trousers hit the floor. “I’m trying to seduce you, Maggie.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “You’re doing a remarkable job of it too.”

  “If I were doing that good a job, you wouldn’t be worrying about your poodle.”

  Her voice cracked. “I hate to admit it, Connor, but I do believe that infamous de Saint-Evremond sangfroid is deserting me.”

  “It’s only natural,” he said gently. “This is your first time. I’m a little on edge if the truth be told.”

  “Are you?” she said in surprise. “It certainly doesn’t show.”

  He gave her a slow, easy smile. “Actually, it does if you know where to look, which being innocent, you don’t.”

  Maggie glanced down without thinking, her eyes widening. “Yes, I see what you mean. Good gracious. How did we get ourselves in this position?”

  “It was inevitable. I wanted you, and I got you. I never lose, lass. Never.”

  “So I’ve heard, you conceited devil.”

  He laughed low, moving over her, determined to enjoy his domination to the fullest. Trailing butterfly kisses over her breasts and belly, he brought his mouth to the fragrant hollow below. The female scent of her tantalized his senses. The taste of her intoxicated him. He was drunk on his desire for her. When she arched in surprise to escape him, he clamped his powerful forearms down on her legs and pinned her to the floor, immobilizing her with the seduction of his mouth.

  “Connor.” The pleasure, piercing and raw, took her unaware. She was trembling from shoulder to toe, wild impulses overwhelming her.

  “Inevitable,” he murmured, savoring her fragrance. “Inescapable. I’d save my strength for later if I were you. You’re not going anywhere unless I take you there.”

  “Monster,” she said, struggling now not to escape but merely to breathe. “Beast.”

  “Beauty.” He gripped her wriggling white bottom, loving her with his tongue. “And every delicious inch of you is mine to enjoy.”

  “I suppose there’s no point in arguing with you—”

  “None at all.”

  She suppressed a groan. “Or pretending to resist.”

  “Do be quiet, Maggie,” he murmured, lifting his head to grin at her. “I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m having so much fun.”

  She burned with need, unable to stop him. She stared into his beautifully rugged face, the face of a male conqueror, the man who had chosen her for his own, who would kill to protect her. Wicked desire smoldered in his eyes as they locked with hers.

  “Are you ready for me to prove my mastery, lass?”

  He lowered his head at her soft whimper of submission, and he hadn’t lied when he promised he would show her no mercy. The pleasure he gave her broke down every barrier, every inhibition that stood between them. Maggie suspected it probably broke a couple of laws too.

  “Yield to me,” he commanded, and she did. “Love me.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, because she always had.

  He raised himself up over her, his voice dark and compelling. “Touch me.”

  She obeyed, running her fingertips down his back, teasing the ridged indentation of muscle until he trembled. Then suddenly he felt her hands closing around his bulging sex. He stared down in fascination, then squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering with pleasure. His mind went blank. He was lost. Her soft touch was his undoing. She had tamed him with tenderness.

  “No one has ever made me feel like this… I’ll die if I’m not inside you…”

  Then his body was covering hers, and he kissed her again, his mouth tasting of whisky and sin. “I can’t wait anymore,” he said roughly, tangling his hand in her hair. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I wasn’t afraid until you said that. Why should I be afraid of you?”

  Still, she was frightened for a moment, that final moment when she hovered between innocence and becoming his. “Connor,” she said in a hesitant voice, “I might want to think this over just a little long—”

  His look of raw determination silenced her. His long hair swung forward as he straddled her, spreading her thighs. When she felt his thick shaft penetrate her, branding her his own, she shivered and pressed her shoulders to the floor to anchor her. He thrust, and she arched with an age-old instinct, caught in an internal storm of thunder and lightning, electricity racing down every nerve ending. She couldn’t control the wild beating of her heart.

  He took possession of her body until he touched her woman’s soul, until he found solace, forged the bond, made the alliance his lonely heart had ached for. He drove into her until there was no part of her that did not answer to him.

  “And now we belong to each other,” he said with a long-drawn groan of pleasure as he surrendered to pure sensation. “I’ll never let you go.”

  Chapter

  32

  He was trying to sneak her up to his bed when the midnight summons came. His shirt was slung around his shoulders, entangled with the sash on Maggie’s robe. They were a wee bit tipsy on blackberry wine and each other.

  He’d even made it halfway up the stairs, Maggie snuggled in his arms. They probably would have reached his room sooner if he hadn’t stopped every ten seconds to kiss her. The house was utterly black, the lights extinguished hours ago. Uncensored fantasies filled his head as he contemplated the hours left until morning. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to debauch her on the landing. He felt powerful and insatiable.

  Then Dougie, clomping up the stairs behind them with all the subtlety of a warhorse, ruined everything.

  “There’s a letter just come for her ladyship,” he announced loudly enough to awaken the entire household. “Thought it might be important.”

  “Not now,” Connor said through his teeth. He made a meaningful signal with the hand hooked around Maggie’s bottom. “We’re on our way upstairs. I’m carrying Lady Maggie to my room.”

  Dougie raised his candle to her face. “Dinna tell me the lassie’s no feelin’ well,” he said worriedly. “Be
st to put her in her own bed, my lord. My granny always said ye’ll catch a nasty chest cold switchin’ beds—”

  Connor snatched the expensive vellum envelope from Dougie’s hand. “When did this come?”

  “A few minutes after midnight,” Dougie answered dourly. “Looks like an invitation. Hell of an hour to be sending letters if ye ask me.”

  Connor let Maggie slide down to her feet. “What is it?” she asked, covering her mouth to hide a hiccough.

  Connor’s face darkened as he tore open the envelope. “ ‘Dear Miss Saunders,’ ” he read slowly. “ ‘The honor of your company is requested tomorrow morning at nine o’clock in Glamhurst Castle on a matter of the utmost secrecy. It is advised that you come alone. Most sincerely yours, Lord Anonymous.’ ”

  Maggie wobbled backward, balancing herself against Connor’s arm. “Lord who?”

  “Anonymous.” Connor stared down at the note, cold fury glittering in his eyes.

  "Glamhurst Castle has been empty for nigh on twenty years,” Dougie said quietly.

  Maggie met Connor’s gaze. “The duchess mentioned that someone had moved in a few days ago,” she said. “A man no one has seen or heard. She thought he might be a rich American. He brought quite an extensive retinue with him, footmen and maidservants. She was afraid he means to use the woods for hunting.”

  “Funny name, Anonymous,” Dougie said. “I dinna trust him.”

  Connor’s voice rose into the darkness from the depths of the brocade-curtained bed. “You’re not going to that castle, Maggie.”

  “Of course I’m not going. Do you think I’m quite mad?” She scooted back against the carved pine headboard, then bent over him in alarm. “You aren’t going, are you? Not by yourself.”

  “No.” He avoided her eyes, drawing her back down against his chest, his big hand wrapped possessively in her hair. She sighed in obvious contentment. He, on the other hand, was a burning tangle of anger and anxiety.

  “Do you think it’s from the man who has Sheena?” she whispered.