Elizabeth knew she was right, but she still couldn’t quite believe her own father would sacrifice her for the sake of the Ruthven-Douglas feud. The king was right. This had to end, and it would end with her and Lachlan taking charge.
Chapter Seventeen
Elizabeth greeted the guard outside Lachlan’s room with a nod before she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Lachlan stood with his battered back to her. His head was bent as he gazed into the cheery fire in the hearth. He propped one booted foot upon the grate, and stood there as still as a statue, no doubt lost in his thoughts.
There was something somber in the way he was standing. And even without looking at his face, she knew he carried the weight of what lay ahead of them on his shoulders. He stiffened suddenly and turned toward her. Sadness reflected in his features before his expression softened with a smile. “I was growing worried when you didn’t arrive as planned. How did the examination go?”
“The king seemed relieved at the confirmation of my virginity, and furious as well.”
“He gave you a good rousing, did he, about obeying his commands? I’ve been on the receiving side of many of his tirades a time or two myself,” he said as he helped her remove her cloak. “Is that what kept you?”
“The carriage ran into some trouble,” she said. It was the truth, but she did not elaborate. He had enough to worry about as it was. She wouldn’t trouble him with threats her father had made against them both.
“Come over by the fire.” The tension that had been in his shoulders relaxed as he poured them each a glass of wine.
She accepted a glass before sitting in a chair by the hearth, allowing the flames to ward off the chill that had followed her from Hardgate Manor. “Are you improved today?” she asked, suddenly studying the contents of her glass. They both knew why she was here, and she was suddenly nervous.
“Better,” he replied, taking a seat beside her. “More like myself.”
She forced herself to look at him and wished she hadn’t. It was difficult to be casual when he was looking at her that way, with blatant sensuality. Elizabeth hastily drank a liberal amount of her wine, praying it would calm her sudden nerves as well as the anticipation and excitement that danced in her veins.
“Elizabeth.” He said the word softly as though sensing her distress. “Nothing will happen here that you do not want.”
Elizabeth nodded. She set her wine aside at the unveiled passion in his eyes. That passion found an answering response within her. Her heart fluttered in her chest as he pulled her into his arms and traced his finger along the ridge of her jaw. “You have the most exquisite skin.” He trailed his finger down her throat and across her collarbone. “Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to touch you? To cup your cheek in my palm and run my fingertips over your throat?”
“You’ve touched me before.”
“But not like this.” He ran his finger across the swell of her breasts then dipped his finger between the two lobes, making her breath catch.
A flush tinted his cheeks, his nostrils flared, and his breathing quickened. “Your breasts are quite perfect, you know.”
She inhaled sharply as he lowered his head and kissed her, skillfully parting her lips and laying claim. She knew why he was kissing her—knew what his purpose was—and this time she would not stop him. He wanted her, and she wanted him.
Setting all her reservations about him aside for the last time, she kissed him in return. From this moment forward, she wanted to forget who he was and who she was and only think about the way he made her feel. Tonight, their passion would be their only guide.
She parted her lips and surrendered. A groan of pure desire escaped his lips, encouraging her. She taunted and teased, then delighted when he deepened the kiss as though he, too, was tired of fighting the passion that flared so powerfully between them.
His arms tightened around her, crushing her breasts, already peaked and tight and aching, to the hard, solid plane of his chest. His hand swept down her back, pressing her to him, then sliding lower, over her hip, to grasp her bottom and angle her hips to his so he could move against her, so he could mold her against the rigid length of his erection, let her feel and anticipate having that hard length inside her, taking her to unknown heights.
He broke the kiss and stared down at her with those bright blue eyes, eyes alive with passion—passion she’d stirred to life, passion that had turned every muscle in his body to hard-edged steel. Carefully he unlaced the back of her dress, then pulled it up over her head before removing her slippers, garters and hose. All that stood between them was her chemise.
Only the sound of their ragged breathing filled the air as with careful fingers, he lifted her chemise up and tossed it aside, leaving her naked before him. He slowly lowered his head and licked her nipple lazily.
A hot shiver moved through her. His tongue was warm and moist. His teeth closed gently on the distended pink tip, and he moved his head teasingly back and forth. Before she could get used to the sensation, he opened wide and enveloped her, devouring her as his tongue explored her in the most intimate of ways.
She was beginning to tremble, the heat between her thighs increasing until it was nearly painful, and yet she couldn’t move away. She could feel the pull of his mouth with her every breath, could feel a part of her becoming a part of him. Licking a path to her other breast, he repeated his sensual seduction until finally he released her and opened his eyes, gazing at her with such pleasure that another wave of heat seared her. “Who could have known you would prove this sweet?”
Elizabeth could feel herself readying for him, feel the lust forcing away the last fragment of resistance from her mind. Waves of heat engulfed her, making her long for him in ways she’d never expected. “Lachlan—” The word was part whisper, part plea.
He straightened and she took the opportunity to unbutton his breeches, to loosen the waist and slide the garment down his legs that were almost healed of the painful red welts. All that remained of the pricker’s marks were scabs that would eventually vanish for good. Following his breeches to the floor, she also removed his boots and hose, until he was also naked before her.
Lachlan lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, careful to avoid his back, as he captured her lips once more. She gloried in a wave of intense pleasure at the feel of his hard, developed abdomen flexing between her thighs, fueling the fire that Lachlan had lit within her from the moment they first touched. Still locked together, he carried her across the room to the small bed and carefully laid her down. A heartbeat later, he stretched out beside her and slowly, seductively sketched his palms over her naked flesh.
Her skin burned wherever he touched, leaving trails of searing sensation across her breasts, her arms, her waist, her thighs. Wherever his hands went, his lips followed. Heat danced across her flesh. The tension built, higher and higher, until she thought she would burst from sheer pleasure.
She was breathless when he drew back to stare into her face. In his eyes she saw a fire unlike any she had seen before. “You truly are beautiful, Elizabeth. I am a lucky man.” His voice was hoarse, raspy.
The way he looked at her made her feel beautiful and so many other tumultuous emotions. She wanted him with the same urgent, scorching passion with which he wanted her. That knowledge made her bold as she splayed her fingers against his rock-hard chest. She brushed his nipples with her fingertips and was rewarded with a strangled gasp of pleasure. His hooded eyes only partially concealed his smoldering gaze. “I need you to say you want me, Elizabeth.”
The intensity of his passion tightened her chest. “I want you. Make love to me,” she breathed, barely able to force the words from her dry throat.
He pulled her against him, then rose up on his knees and, moving over her, he settled between her thighs. His lips claimed hers again with tormenting sweetness and her body responded to the intimate sensuality of his demand. She pressed herself against his hardening body, wanting more as the flames
of desire consumed her and knowing also that what came next would hurt her.
As though sensing her thoughts, he pulled back and looked into her face. “If I could take the initial pain of our joining away, I would.”
“I know,” she replied, bracing herself, knowing as he tensed what was going to happen.
“From the first moment I saw you on that ridge, I wanted you with an intensity that went beyond reason,” he said, lifting her hips to receive him. “I even warned you that my motives for talking you away from that ledge were not altogether innocent.”
“You were a rogue from the moment we first met.”
“When it comes to you, aye.” He entered her then, with a steady thrust.
Her body jerked and a sharp pain tore through her on a gasp, but as quickly as it came, the pain vanished, replaced by a feeling of fullness and heat. Then, guided by instinct and a heart that was overflowing, she wound her legs about his hips, drawing him deeper.
Her hands clutched at his shoulders as she thrust upward, taking as much of him as he offered her. With a low cry of wild satisfaction, she matched his rhythm, delighting as he stroked her hard and fast, slow and gentle. As soon as she grew accustomed to one rhythm, he changed it, until the tension inside her coiled tighter and tighter. His thrusts grew deeper and faster. She hovered on the brink until the tension exploded with a force that sent a fiery release through every muscle in her body.
An instant later, she could feel Lachlan spasm again and again, to shatter within her in a glorious release.
Spent, he slumped on her. She could feel his heart racing, pounding against her chest; feel the tempo of his heart echo where they were still joined.
She drew a slow, shallow breath of satisfaction, then raised a hand to his hair and, tentatively, caressed. They were married in every sense of the word now. She had truly given this man her allegiance, and she was happier than she’d ever been. He nestled against her as a quiet, tender moment ticked past.
His heartbeat gradually slowed; his breathing eased. Finally, he stirred, withdrew and moved off her only to settle against her side, his hot flesh against her own. His hands refused to release her as he played with her exposed breasts, stroking, circling, teasing as if he was afraid to let the moment end.
Never in her life had Elizabeth experienced anything like that before. She had never dreamed such satisfaction or satiation were possible as a heavy languid sensation pulsed through her blood. The physical vortex they had created had been wild, mind-bending, sense-shattering. Had she known such sensations existed, she might have been tempted to make love with him long before now.
“Will it always be like that between us?” she asked when her breathing returned to normal as she studied Lachlan’s profile.
“Nay,” he said. “It will only get better every single time.” His lips quirked, and she recognized that smile for what it was—smug, male satisfaction.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, unable to help herself as she realized she wanted him all over again.
He turned toward her and slid his hand to her cheek, cupping it gently. “That you are every bit as fiery and passionate in your lovemaking as you are in your everyday life.”
At his broad smile, she turned her face into his hand, kissing his palm, slowly, allowing him to feel her passion.
A groan tore from his chest. He twisted onto his side and trailed his hand from her cheek, down her abdomen, until his fingers settled playfully in the curls protecting her womanhood.
“If you don’t stop that, I might need to feel your passion once more,” Lachlan teased.
She arched her brow. “I have no plans for the rest of the evening. Do you?”
He gave her a devastating smile and delved his fingers into her wet heat. She could feel herself readying for him again. “Shall I indulge that passionate nature of yours once more?”
Without saying another word, Elizabeth kissed him.
*
The next morning Elizabeth slowly came awake and instantly knew her life was forever altered. She and Lachlan were still curled together on the small bed. Her head rested in the curve of his shoulder, and one of her legs was lying carelessly across his, whether to keep him beside her or to offer comfort during the night she was not certain. She raised her head tentatively, but he did not stir except to release a deep, untroubled breath.
If only that were true.
Today his trial would begin. But until the bailiff came for him, Lachlan and these precious, stolen moments were all for her. Looking upon him now, she noted the changes that had taken place since last night. Gone were the lines of worry that bracketed his eyes and mouth, as was the rigid set of his jaw. He looked relaxed and so at peace even though he still remained in a prison cell of sorts. The thick, blond crescents of his lashes looked like wings upon his cheeks, and his hair was swept back from his forehead, and looked like spun gold against the whiteness of the sheets.
He was completely naked, as was she. And despite their previous night’s passion, when she had thought there could be no further revelations or mysteries about his body, she discovered she was wrong. In the soft morning light, she saw him clearly in all his sheer, masculine splendor. He was perfection itself in form, but there was also evidence beyond what the pricker had inflicted upon him of past wounds. Dozens of scars, both fine and wide, threaded their way across his flesh as evidence of the many battles he had fought over the years. The pricker marks would all but vanish once they healed fully, but the stripes on his back would leave a remembrance of all he had suffered.
Elizabeth’s heart swelled with both sympathy and sorrow for what he’d had to endure, and she could not stop herself from placing a tender salute upon one of the scars on his chest. As she did, another unfamiliar sensation filled her chest, replacing her sorrow with a warm tenderness.
She had thought she had loved Roland Carswell at one time in her life, but she’d been wrong. What she had experienced with him was nothing in comparison to the strange emotions that filled her when she was in Lachlan’s arms. Her heart had never beat wildly out of control at the sight of him, her skin had never prickled at the sound of his voice, her body had never seemed to melt from within at his touch. All these things happened whenever Lachlan drew near, even from the first moment their eyes had met on the ledge where she had almost taken her own life.
She might not have wanted to put a name to the sensations inside her all those many days ago, but she knew now it was love. Against all odds, she was in love with Lachlan Douglas. With her heart swelling with deeper emotion than she’d ever felt before, she bent down and placed a kiss on his lips.
“Elizabeth?” His voice was slurred, but his eyes opened and fixed on her.
She meant to disentangle herself from him and rise to dress, but he tightened his arms around her and pulled her against him, refusing to let her go. “I could wake with a kiss from you every morning for the rest of my life and die a happy man.” The moment he said the words, the stress that had vanished from his face returned. “I just pray that my life is longer than the next few days.”
At the reminder of what still lay ahead of them, tears came to her eyes. “So many people are working on your behalf to secure your freedom. You must not lose hope. We must believe that, even with the challenges ahead, we will have a long and wonderful life together because I love you. I want to spend the rest of my days at your side as your wife, your lover, and the mother of your children. I want to grow old together and to finally put this wretched feud between our families to rest, for good.”
His eyes widened as she spoke and the worry lines vanished once again. He brought his fingers up to tenderly stroke the side of her jaw. “Elizabeth, I—”
A knock sounded upon the door and the portal flew open before he could speak or they could cover themselves. King James strode into the chamber. At first, he startled at the sight that greeted him before he slowly smiled. “I am glad to see you took my command to heart, Lady March.” He s
tared at them for a moment as Elizabeth clutched for the sheets to cover herself before turning away. “I have come to show my support for you, Lord March, by escorting you to your tribunal myself.”
Lachlan recoiled as if the reality of his situation had slapped him in the face. He stiffened beneath her and shifted away from her. “That is very kind of you, Your Grace. I only hope your efforts have an impact on those gathered in the tribunal chamber.”
The king’s gaze returned to them, then shifted away almost as quickly again. “I shall give you a few minutes to compose yourselves. I shall wait outside.” And with that he was gone, shutting the door behind him.
Silence filled the space between them as her declaration of love gave way to fear. She had finally found a purpose for her life alongside a man she loved, whom she treasured above all else, even family loyalty. But loving him also made her more vulnerable than she had been since the death of her mother. And the very serious threat upon his life suddenly tormented her with uncertainty.
What would she do if they found him guilty of sorcery? Elizabeth felt a cold chill in the hollow of her spine. Could they bribe the guard to look the other way now before the trial even started?
“Let us escape from here. Right now. This very moment. We could make a life for ourselves somewhere else.”
“The king is right outside our door. I doubt he would be so kind as to release me since he hasn’t up to this point. Besides, where would we go that he couldn’t find us?” His eyes held a sadness that made her throat tighten. “But perhaps it is best if you return to Whittingehame. There is no need for you to suffer alongside me when the trial begins.”
The air in the chamber was suddenly still, making it hard to breathe. “I cannot go. I will not. Our future is bound together.”
A Temptress in Tartan Page 17
