My Wild Highlander (13 page)

Angelique crawled across the floorboards and
a carpet but could see nothing. She found the bed and slid beneath,
praying no spiders lived there.

The bedchamber door opened and candlelight
flowed into the room. Lachlan hummed a bawdy Scottish song, then
whistled part of it. She watched his booted feet as he crossed to
the hearth. A clunk sounded as he set his lit candle on the mantel.
He stopped whistling, bent down and picked up the extinguished
candle she'd dropped.
Sacrebleu.

Silence followed. His feet turned slowly.
Metal hissed against leather. She could scarce breathe. She didn't
want to reveal herself, nor did she want him to take his sword or
dagger to her, thinking she was a thief.

The light from his candle descended as he set
it on the floor. He knelt, then peered beneath the bed. He
squinted. "Angelique? Is that you?"

"
Merde
," she muttered and scooted from
her hiding place.

"What the devil are you doing beneath my bed?
I'd much rather find you
in
it."

Face burning, she rose and hobbled toward the
exit, her shin and toe throbbing. He was faster, running to stand
before the door. "Are you limping?"

"I slammed my shin against your damnable
trunk." She tried to reach the door latch, but he blocked it. "I am
tired and I wish to go to bed," she snapped. Control her, would he?
A string of foul names formed in her mind.

"Let me see." He sheathed his sword, then
swept a hand toward the chair near his bed. "Have a seat over there
so I can see to your injury."

"
Non.
It is nothing, I assure you."
Balourd!
How dare he think to "keep her busy" with their
wedding while he did "important" things?

He tilted his head and observed her with a
charming, seductive expression. It only made her want to throttle
him.

"You're angry with me," he said.

"
Non
. Why should I be?"
Nullard!

"Why, indeed?" His grin lingered, as did his
perceptive gaze. "So…you were paying me a wee visit."

"I only wished to look around this room to
see if anything of my father's remained." Good lie, she
congratulated herself.

"Aye, lots of his things are here. What would
you like to see?"

"
Très bien
. I will look at them
tomorrow.
Excusez moi, s'il vous plaît
. I must bid you good
night."

"Angelique, tell me true. Why were you in
here? I won't be angry."

No, but she was angry as Hades. She yearned
to confront him about the arrogant and callous things he'd said to
Rebbie without him knowing she'd eavesdropped, but that was
impossible. She didn't want him to suspect the presence of hidden
passages so she could further spy on him in the future. She must
get to the bottom of his deception and manipulation.

Besides that, one of the reasons she'd
married him was because she thought he would be easy to control.
And he thought he was controlling her?
Merde!
She would show
him!

"Angelique?" His voice this time came out low
and intimate, stirring. And though she was ready to clout him, her
thoughts scattered.

She tried to think of a lie quickly, but her
mind went blank. "I but wondered where you were."

"You wanted to see me?"

"I wondered if…" She closed her eyes, wishing
she had said anything else.

"What?"

"If you had a…companion with you."

"Companion? You mean a woman?" He spread his
arms toward the room. "As you can see, nay, I don't." His voice
dropped an octave to deep and seductive. "You have me all to
yourself."

A pleasant, thirsty heat spread over her face
and body. She hated him because he easily broke past her defenses
despite her best efforts to remain cold and unaffected. "I wish to
go to my room now."

"If you want to pass through this door, you
must pay the penalty."

"How much?" she blurted, then realized he
couldn't have meant coin.

"Hmm. Let me see." He lifted a brow.
"Three."

"Three what?"

"Three kisses,
madame
," he
murmured.

She backed up a step, then two, desperate to
escape his magnetism.

"'Twill be painless, I vow."

She wasn't worried about the kiss being
painful, but anything that might follow, the coupling, the control
he would gain over her. Which she could not allow. Besides that,
she still wanted to strangle him.

"You look like a trapped hart, love. I would
never hurt you. Why can you not trust at least one small thing I
do?"

Love? Trust? After what he'd told Rebbie in
the library? Trying to manipulate her.

Lachlan leaned a shoulder casually against
the door and observed her too closely. "Why do you fear me?"

"I do not fear you. I'm sleepy," she said
through clenched teeth.

"You don't appear sleepy. Instead you're
angry, but you weren't earlier, when I came to your room. 'Haps you
didn't wish me to leave," he said in an enticing tone. "You wanted
me to sleep in your bed."

Her mouth dropped open, but no words would
emerge. The image of him sleeping in her bed was too
overwhelming.

"Aye. That's the reason." A mischievous glint
sparked in his eyes.

"You are wrong,
monsieur
!"

"Well then, explain your mood change."

She wanted to punch him.

"Ah. Mayhap you suspected I had gone off to
meet another woman. Which tells me…you are jealous."

"I am not jealous," she ground out.

"In any case, you cannot leave this room
until you pay the penalty. And if you have a weapon, put it
down."

"I have no weapon."

"'Twill be the first time, then. You were not
going to murder me and this imaginary woman you thought was in my
bed?"

"Non."

His gaze trailed down over her. "'Haps I
should search you to be sure. A man can never be too careful,
especially when his wife has a fondness for daggers and
pistols."

She took another step away from him and found
her back against a wall. Surely he would not do as he
suggested.

He cocked his head and watched her. "Come. I
won't search you." He held out his hand. "I shall tell you a
secret."

She shook her head, her pulse running away,
as she wished to do. Heavens, she did not want to touch him. That
would too easily distract her and give her those disturbing and
frightening carnal urges again. He was so alluring, his deep voice
rumbling gently over the words.

He moved in front of her and she committed
the error of letting him trap her against the stone wall.

His seductive eyes darkened in the dimness
and his lashes lowered. His tall body and the entrancing scent of
masculinity enveloped her. She wondered if his tawny hair felt as
silky as it looked.

He brushed his warm lips over her forehead,
then kissed her there, an affectionate gesture such as she had not
received in many years. She could not resist the persuasion of his
fingers beneath her chin and did what they compelled her to do,
lift her chin. He breathed hot against her mouth. Touched the
corner with his. The shape and fullness of his lips aroused her,
robbed her mind of rational thought. Her nipples tingled. He
pressed his mouth fully to hers, tilted his head and flicked his
tongue against her upper lip. A bolt of something dangerously
sensuous shot through her. She opened, from shock or from obeying
him, she didn't know. He stroked one finger along her cheek and
slid his tongue briefly into her mouth. Excitement flowed through
her like a searing river of sensation.

"Mmm. The secret is—" He kissed her again,
his tongue sweeping into her mouth, wet and erotic, and toying with
hers, then leaving before she was ready. "—you're the only one I
want."

Her heart gave a lurch. Some deep, hidden
part of her wished his words to be true, craved them to be true as
one craves air. For one radiant moment, she imagined they were.
While she wasn't paying attention, her hands had buried themselves
in the warm silk of his hair and her fingertips grazed his neck. He
felt wondrous, his hard chest flattening her breasts.

His talented lips nipped and ate at hers. His
tongue ignited a hunger she had never imagined.
Sorcerer.

His hands skimmed down her sides to her
derriere. Only her thin silk smock and wrap separated their skin,
and the heat of his hands burned through. He tugged her against his
body. The granite hardness of his male member pressed against her
stomach, startling her out of the sensual daze.
He will force
me! He will hurt me.

A shock wave jolted her. She tore herself
away and dashed out the door.

***

Damnation!
Lachlan almost had
Angelique calmed and aroused. But he'd gone too fast. What the
devil had scared her? Not the kisses; she liked kisses. Mmm, she'd
tasted like heaven, sweeter than a honey-drizzled tart he wanted to
sink his teeth into.

He pressed a hand against his erection to
ease his frustration. Maybe that was it. Maybe his aroused shaft
frightened her. Though she had seen it in London. He didn't know
what would be frightening about that part of his body. Women had
told him his tarse was of a large size, compared to most men, but
they always seemed to like and appreciate that. But maybe the size
did scare Angelique, if she hadn't much experience. She might not
be a virgin, but he would wager, she was almost so.

She'd been in his room to see if a woman was
in here. What a jealous lass she was. She didn't wish to occupy his
bed nor would she allow another woman to occupy it. She wanted him
to become a monk in truth.

Not since he'd been a lad of fourteen had he
needed to relieve his frustrations himself. Women had spoiled him.
He wanted sex and he wanted it a lot. But now, none. Cut off from
one of his favorite activities because of his wife. A wife he had
erotic dreams about. And waking fantasies of soothing the hellcat,
making her purr in his ear and sink her claws into his back to hold
him in place on top of her. Between her legs.

Cursing at the intense need plowing through
him, he paced. 'Twas easy to see she wanted him, from the languid,
curious look in her eyes to the way she'd held onto him and
accepted his kisses moments ago.

A fantasy formed in his mind… she would
straddle his thighs and impale herself upon him. Sliding up and
down... so wet.
Mmmm.
How he would love for her to ride him
fast and hard as if possessed by some erotic demon. He would give
her so much pleasure, if only she would allow him.

Tomorrow
. Indeed, he would seduce her
tomorrow.

***

Three days after Kormad and his men had left
London, they sat in the drab common room at The Ram's Head Inn in
Perth. The bones and remains of their meal littered the table
before them.

"Where the hell is Pike?" Kormad muttered.
"He said he would meet us here this day. The ship's already come in
and he should've been here by now." He hoped Pike had thrown
MacGrath and Angelique overboard into the deep, chill waters of the
Channel.

Kormad's men, sitting around the table, shook
their heads and shrugged. He had just bought them a fine meal, and
this was what he got for it?

"Well, go look for him, you louts! Search the
other inns and taverns."

"Aye, sir." All his men sprang up and headed
toward the door.

"MacFie, you stay!"

The most intelligent of his men returned to
the table.

"I've got another job for you," he said in a
low voice. "Snoop around and see if there is any news about a laird
and lady dying or drowning on their way here. You ken how to do it
without raising suspicion."

"Aye, m'laird." MacFie hurried away.

Kormad grunted and downed another swallow of
warm, stout ale. He had a few loyal men he'd sent to guard Draughon
a month ago, and he hoped they still held their posts. They did if
MacGrath and his lady-whore were no longer in the land of the
living.

An hour later, MacFie returned. "Word is the
earl of Draughon and his lady arrived yesterday in sound
health."

"Damn!" Kormad smashed a fist onto the table,
rattling everything upon it. Could no one get anything right? Not
even Pike? What was the world coming to when you couldn't even hire
a good mercenary?

Kormad cursed, fumed, and paced for another
hour, fantasizing about killing MacGrath and Angelique in a dozen
different ways, without implicating himself, of course. Aye, he
could get inventive. Draughon would be his—and Timmy's—soon. Very
soon.

Arnie and Rufus struggled through the doorway
with the brawny, limping Pike supported between them. His filthy
trews and doublet were ripped and his leg bloody. Even his bald
head was covered in blood and dirt.

Kormad charged forward. "What the hell
happened to you?"

His face black and blue, Pike raised
unfocused, bloodshot eyes. He smelled strongly of whisky and fishy
seawater. "MacGrath's men ganged up on me. Had to... jump ship.
Almost drowned. Fishermen... hauled me out, then... robbed me and
beat me up."

"Bastards! Did you do the job?" Kormad
growled.

"Nay." He clenched his teeth, body quaking.
"But I'm ready to take my revenge on MacGrath for all my pain and
sufferin'."

"Aye, there's the spirit!" Kormad grinned.
Why couldn't he have ten men like Pike? "Well, what are you
whoresons waiting for? Help Pike into a coach. We go to Burnglen."
The healer there would patch him up, then Kormad and his men would
charge into Draughon when least expected.

***

The next evening, Lachlan sank into the
wooden tub of hot water in his bedchamber before the fireplace.
Light from the dancing flames glowed upon the stone walls. The deep
scratch on his arm stung and his muscles ached from the full day of
punishing training he'd given his body.