Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (25 page)

The truth hit Dugald like a summer storm. She was right. He was insane. But it was she that was making him so, with her blatant sensuality, her silvery laughter, her ungodly allure. "I thought—"

"What?" she raged. "That I have no morals? That I am a slut?"

He drew a deep breath, damning himself a hundredfold for losing his perception. Mother of God, what was wrong with him? he wondered. He wasn't the jealous type. She had bewitched him.

But this was hardly the time to worry about such things now, for her voice was anything but quiet.

Still, she was not the type to get hysterical, he assured himself. She would not call her father down to behead him. Probably. "I did not mean to offend you, Shona."

"Offend me?"

He winced at her volume.

"In truth, I was born outside the bonds of wedlock. In a different culture, in a foreign land.

Mayhap my humble circumstances make me see the world from a different angle than most. My apologies." He took a few steps along the wall. "I am but trying to figure you out, lass. To find out who you are. To find out..." He paused and reached for her, but managed to pull his hand back before he made contact.

"What?" she asked.

"I am trying to find out why you draw me as you do."

She backed away, her eyes still angry. "In truth, I affect all men like that."

Despite everything, he could not help but smile. "Do you now?'

"Aye."

"Then I am even more surprised that you do not yet have a child."

"I did not say I return their attention."

"But you return mine," he said.

She stepped quickly back a pace. "I dunna think I feel guilty enough to mend ye now."

He advanced a step. "And I do not think it is guilt that brought you here from the start."

"What do ye mean?"

"Are you saying you do not feel it?"

She retreated, but the backs of her knees were against the mattress now, preventing further retreat. "Feel what?"

If he had a grain of goodness in him, he would leave while she still had her illusions and he still had his life. But his hand reached out of its own accord, and suddenly it was scooped behind her neck.

Lightning flared through him. Her head fell back slightly, as if the jolt that passed through him also seared her.

"That!"

"I feel nothing," she denied, but her voice trembled.

"Then you will not mind if I kiss you?"

"Kiss me!" The words were squeaky. "Of...of course I would mind!" she said, but she didn't move away, didn't push against him. Instead, she stayed just as she was, with the heat of her gaze like emerald fire against his face.

He could not resist, regardless of the consequences! So what if he was flogged, disemboweled, decapitated?

Their lips met. The world exploded, and suddenly she was in his arms, pressed tight against his body. For one brief moment she held back, and then she was kissing him in return, her lips warm and soft, her breasts crushed against his bare chest, her arms clasped about his back.

Passion roared between them, torching all lucidness. There was nothing but their need.

From somewhere unknown, footsteps sounded. Dugald yanked himself back to reality and jerked away with an effort.

They stared at each other like crazed inmates. Dear God, they hadn't even closed the door.

The footsteps faded into oblivion. The world went silent except for their breathing.

"How...how much?" he murmured.

"What?"

"How much would you mind if I kissed you?" he asked.

She winced and took a guilty step backward. He watched her, and even now it took every bit of his self control to keep from following her.

Sanity seemed a slippery thing when she was near. He held onto it with hard ferocity. "Why does that happen?" he asked.

She blinked. "Why does what happen?"

He couldn't help but laugh. The sound echoed maniacally in the narrow room. "Again, you did not notice?"

She had the good grace to pause before her next inane question. "Notice what?"

"Shall I demonstrate again?" he asked, stepping forward.

She scrambled backward, bumped into a shelf, and scurried away.

The sight would have been funny were it not for the painful pulse of his blood thundering away from his brain.

"Never have I felt this...loss of control. This powerlessness to keep myself from a woman."

She licked her lips and glanced at the door as if she were debating fleeing. Apparently she decided to chance staying. Her gaze flitted back, though she was scowling now. "Even with the emperor's concubines?"

He allowed a sliver of a grin. "Would it hurt you so to admit you are attracted to me?" he asked.

"Attracted to ye?" She laughed out loud.

Too loud. He winced. He might be acting the fool, but still he had no wish to be killed by someone called the Rogue who was but protecting his daughter's virtue. Hurrying to the passageway, he glanced out then softly shut the door.

When he turned back, Shona's eyes looked wider than ever. He moved across the floor toward her, because he was » fool, because he could not help himself.

She leaned away a little, but she was trapped by the bed behind her. He was close enough to smell the sweet fragrance of her hair, the more earthy scent that was nothing but woman. That scent alone was nearly enough to sap every ounce of self-control from him.

"Why are you afraid to say the truth?" he asked. "Tis not a shameful thing."

"And the truth being?"

"That you are as drawn to me just as I am to you."

"Drawn to ye? I dunna even
like
ye!"

"Truly?" he asked, stepping closer still.

She swallowed. "Truly," she said.

"And what kind of man do you like, wee Shona?"

"It matters little. Despite what ye think, and what my father says, I am a sweet lass and I will marry where I am told."

"Then who does your father like?"

She snorted at his ridiculousness and turned away, but he caught her arm. Fire sparked between them again, but he held on, riding it out and wondering if he would be burned asunder.

"Who would your father choose for you, lass?"

Her teeth were pressed tightly together, as if she, too, were fighting to douse the fire that raged between them. "Someone of position," she said.

He moved slightly closer, daring the flames. "Position? Does that mean someone who could be king?''

"King? Nay."

Her shocked tone was sincere. It had been a foolish question. Still, he could not help the relief that flooded him. "Then what?"

"Someone who can give me security."

Against his better judgment he pulled her against him. "There is security in my arms. That I promise."

Dugald could feel her breath fan his face.

"A gentleman," she whispered.

"Gentle." He tried to keep himself in check. But if the truth were known, there was no hope. His hand reached out of its own accord, touching her cheek. She shivered beneath his fingertips and let her eyes fall closed. "Do you need proof of my gentleness?"

She shook her head feebly, but he was far past good sense and slipped his fingers gently across her cheek to her jaw. There he turned his hand so that the flats of his nails brushed along the ridge of her chin.

"Dugald." His name was no more than a whisper. The sound of it on her lips sent a shiver of excitement through him, an excitement too intense to be denied.

"Aye?" he murmured, and bending, kissed the corner of her mouth.

She sucked air through her parted lips, and her head fell back, exposing her throat. Regal, pale as frothy milk, warm as life itself. He kissed her there, just below her jaw where her pulse raced like a wild steed, then down, lower, along the slim, elegant column of her neck.

"I didna..." Her words broke off. "I didna say gentle," she reminded him. "I said
gentleman."

He kissed the base of her neck, then, because he was a fool, he eased her sleeve down, tugging it off her shoulder.

It was beautiful, bonny, pale and small. Damn him. There was nothing he could do but kiss it.

"Is it my gentleness you doubt? Or my manhood?" he whispered.

Soft as feather down, her fingers slid around his waist.

For a moment he could neither speak nor think, so intense was the line of fire she scorched against his flesh. Five brands of flame seared his back where her fingers pfessed against him.

"I am not for ye," she murmured. "My father has forbidden it."

He kissed her throat, her jaw, the high portion of her breasts. "Because I am not nobly born?" he asked.

"My parents have long labored to empower this clan. My marriage into a noble house could do much to increase their strength."

He kissed her lips, gently, holding back his passion, but easing her back onto the bed behind her. Her other hand slipped about his back, holding him close, and then she kissed him in return. The sweetness was beyond compare, beyond resistance. He trembled at its intensity.

"So they would sacrifice your happiness to build their empire?''

"I—" she began, but he could hold back no longer and kissed her with all the aching emotion she brought him.

Somehow they were no longer sitting up, but lying on the mattress, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts beating in unison. Their kisses grew hotter.

Her hands skimmed down his back, pressing harder against him, fanning the flames, gripping his buttocks, pulling him closer. He moaned against her touch and reaching for her skirt, pulled it up, eager, nay, needing, to feel her skin against his.

"Father!" Shona hissed the word against his mouth.

Dugald froze in place. Their hearts rapped against each other's. Their gazes froze.

From the hall, laughter could be heard. Then Dugald, too, recognized the sound of footsteps.

"Ye are a good man," Roderic said.

"I can but try, my lord. And with her at my side, I would try my best."

"I dunna doubt that atall."

"Is it a bargain, then?"

The footfalls were just on the other side of the door now.

Dugald held his breath. Beneath him, Shona, too, failed to breathe.

"Aye," Roderic said finally. "It is a bargain, William."

The footsteps echoed away.

Dugald slipped off her and rose soundlessly to his feet. She scrambled off the mattress, then backed away to press her skirt down over her legs.

They stared at each other, silent, suddenly wary.

"You may not think me worthy of you," he said softly. "But you want me nonetheless."

"Tis not true," she said.

"Aye. It is. But you're scared to admit it."

"I'm scared of nothing."

"Indeed?" he said, and stepping forward, he drew her into his arms and kissed her.

She trembled as passion licked her, but in a moment he drew back, his silver gaze heavy on her face.

"Why not admit that you long for me?" he whispered. "That you cannot think of another when I am near?"

"Tis not true."

He watched her from inches away. “Tell me, Shona, are you so foolish that you do not see it, or are you so cold that you do not care?"

"It does not matter," she whispered. "Tis not meant to be."

Reaching slowly up, he brushed his fingertips across her lips. She shivered beneath his touch.

"Your lips say one thing," he murmured, "but your body says another. Beware, lass, for a time will come when your mind and body will be in accord. Then you shall be in my arms, and all else will be forgotten."

She tried to protest, but he kissed her again, and then, silent as the night, he slipped into the hall.

Shona sat in the silence of the infirmary, her heart still pounding and her mind awhirl. What the devil was wrong with her? Despite her recent demeanor, she wasn't a wanton. Never did she throw herself at men. Never. So why did she act as she did with Dugald?

True, he was attractive, but he'd accused her of fornicating with the king! Still, she longed to feel his...

She stood abruptly to pace the room. Mayhap it was this talk of marriage that was confusing her. Her father insisted that she choose someone or he would choose for her. But how was she supposed to choose?

Hadwin was funny. Stanford was sincere. William was noble in a fatherly sort of way.

She would not think about Dugald. He had nothing for her. Nothing. He was insulting and rude and insane.

But the muscles in his chest felt like polished steel beneath her fingers. His very nearness made her...

The door creaked open. Startled from her thoughts, Shona swung around.

"Daughter." Roderic stood in the doorway. "I thought I heard something." He stepped smoothly inside. “What are ye doing here?''

"I..." Nearly had sex with a man he didn't approve of—lost my mind—forgot all the honor ye ever taught me. None of these seemed like a particularly wise answer, so she fumbled for a likely lie, but guilt and loyalty changed her mind.

"I bandaged Dugald's arm," she said finally, which, in actually, was also a lie, since the bandage still remained on the floor, forsaken and forgotten.

"Dugald?" Her father's expression grew chilly as his gaze skimmed the room. "He was here?"

"Aye." She forced herself not to wring her hands, but the lightning hot energy caused by Dugald's nearness had to be expelled somehow, so she fiddled with the folds of her gown and refused to lower her eyes.

Roderic watched her for a moment. "What are your plans for the lad, Shona?"

"My plans?"

He was silent, then sighed and walked to the pallet to take a seat. "He is not for ye, lass."

Anger welled up inside her, spurred by confusion, fanned by frustration. "For me? Why does everyone keep assuming I would want him?" Truly, it was a foolish question, for her cheeks were still warm and her heart racing. But that was just the physical.

"Then ye dunna?"

"Nay!" she said quickly, before her soul drowned out the good sense of her mind. "Nay, I—"

"Then the tassel ye gave to William was in good faith."

"I..." She blinked. It was difficult thinking of William and Dugald with the same mind. They were worlds apart somehow. "Aye," she said slowly. "I...like him."