My Wild Highlander (15 page)

"Very well."
Get it over with and go!
She could abide this pressure no longer.

Slowly, he approached her, each step closer
quickening her heart rate.

She glanced into his dark gold eyes and
turned her cheek to him.
Please, let him be quick.

Drawing near, he pressed his nose to her hair
and inhaled. The release of his warm breath caressed her temple and
her ear. She shivered at the tickle and waited.

His breath, softer this time, touched her
cheek. She had never felt anything so bewitching. And he smelled
appealingly male. What fragrance of soap did he use?

He brushed smooth lips over her cheek, but
his rough masculine stubble called to everything in her that was
feminine. Immobilizing tingles spread down her neck, across her
chest, peaking her nipples. He exhaled against her—hot, sensual,
subtle—without touching her.

Disturbing carnal sensations raced over her
and her eyes drifted closed. "Go away," she whispered.

"That is what you desire, in truth?" he
murmured against her ear, but continued with the seduction. He drew
her earlobe into his mouth. The erotic overload drove a shaft of
terror through her and she shoved at his chest.

He grasped her wrists and pushed them above
her head. Trapped.

Panic seized her.
"Arrêtez! Bâtard!"
She tried to yank herself from his firm grip.

He paused, restraining her against the wall
and staring into her eyes at short distance.
"Oui. Je suis un
bête. Non? Goujat?"
he asked. "A stupid beast, a lout, a
bastard?"

Iciness drifted down through her.
"Vous ne
parlez pas la Francaise."

"
Oui
,
madame
, I do speak
French. I was in France for more than a year."

"You lied."

"Non."
The anger in his expression
gave her chills.

"You pretended ignorance."

"I have been called a canny lad. I ken what
you have called me when you thought I couldn't understand. How
would you like it if I said things about you in Gaelic?"

He did talk about her to his friends, but in
English and behind her back. Damn him.

"I wouldn't call you degrading names in
Gaelic, neither to your face nor behind your back. I am not as much
a bastard as you think."

"Pardonnez-moi."
She lowered her gaze,
submitting, praying he would release her and not force her. She
might go insane and try to kill him if he did.

"I forgive you." His lips quirked and a long
moment later, he brushed them against the corner of her
mouth—persuasive, determined, fervent. He nipped at her lips,
flicked his tongue against the seam. Unwanted arousal shot through
her like a bolt of lightning. Such power and control he wielded
with his practiced seduction. He used his magic on her as he had
many other women.

Her throat closed off. Gasping, she turned
her head away and tried to twist from his hold. "Release me!"

"Not until you kiss me properly as a wife
should kiss her husband."

"Bastard!"

"I was born well within wedlock. As our
bairns will be."

She shook her head. "Do not touch me. You
have been with hundreds of women. I do not want a disease." There,
good reason. And
Mère de Dieu,
what if it were true? She had
not considered it until this moment.

Eyes narrowed, he stepped back, releasing her
at last. "I have no disease,
madame
," he said firmly.

"How do you know?" She inched away from
him.

"I have no symptoms of any sort. I am always
most careful. I have never bedded whores or barmaids."

"Ladies have been known to carry
diseases."

"Aye, but word gets around."

"Or maybe debauching virgins is your
specialty."

He shrugged. "If they asked nicely. But that
is all in the past. My body is yours alone now."

Ha. Did he honestly think she believed that?
"Prove you do not have a disease. Have a physician come."

He glowered. "You jest."

"
Non
. I mean it. I wish a physician to
inspect your... member and see that it is healthy."

Chapter Seven

Lachlan laughed, but this shifted to a
perplexed scowl. "I assure you, m'lady, my 'member' is
healthy."

"I do not know that," Angelique said. A
libertine such as him had been with too many women to count. She
was glad she had thought of this before it was too late.

"If I am examined and found healthy, I am
welcome in your bed, aye? Every night."

Parbleu.
She had not considered what
would happen afterward. "I shall think about it."

"No thinking. I want your word." His eyes had
become those of a hardened warrior again. "A signed contract."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Nay. 'Tis only fair. I meet your demands;
you meet mine. And to sweeten the deal, I will allow you to
accompany me as I meet with some of the clan chiefs we have
alliances with in the surrounding area, and their wives, within the
next few days."

She stiffened. How dare he? "I will go
whether you 'allow' it or not. I am the countess."

"Nay. Our marriage vows said you must obey
me. I always must do what is best for the clan. And for your
safety."

What a ridiculous excuse. "I think your
seduction skills are slipping,
monsieur.
You are having a
problem seducing your own wife and have to resort to contracts,
deals and blackmail."

"I haven't yet begun to try seducing you. But
if that's what you wish..." He shrugged. "I thought you valued
honesty above all. Seduction doesn't always involve honesty and
forthrightness. Seduction is a game, manipulation, pleasure for
both players. Is that what you desire?"

"Non."

"What do you want then?" In the firelight,
his golden gaze was too perceptive, prying into her very soul.
"What are your deepest desires, Angelique?"

She would never tell him her deepest desires.
If she had any, they were hidden, buried beneath the rubble of her
heart where Girard had shattered it. She had not the will nor
strength to go a second round, to entrust her dreams to another
seducer. No, in truth, her dreams were dead.

"I want nothing of you." Though she tried,
her voice would not raise above a whisper.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you. You want
something or you never would've picked me."

"I had no choice."

"Aye, you did. If you'd chosen Chatsworth,
you probably would've been a widow soon."

She shook her head. "I could not abide him,
even one night."

"Can you abide me one night?"

"I do not know. Mayhap."

"One night then." At her desk he took out a
piece of paper, dipped a quill into the inkpot and started
writing.

"What are you doing?"

"Drawing up a contract. If I get my 'member'
approved as healthy by a physician, then you must give me a whole
night in your bed. Or you can come to mine. And not for sleeping.
Is my meaning clear, or do I need to spell it out?"

"If this is part of your seduction, it is
sorely lacking."

"Do you want seduction or honesty?"

"Both," she blurted.
Merde!
She
covered her mouth.

"Ah." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well
then, the lady has made her desires known. Duly noted."

"I spoke in haste. I did not mean it."

"No need to explain." He continued writing
and the realization struck her that he must indeed be well-educated
if he could scribe with such speed. "I only need your signature
here." He presented her with the paper and pointed to the
bottom.

She read his scratchy script.
I,
Angelique, wife of Lachlan, agree to one full night, from nine in
the evening until nine in the morning in the same bed with Lachlan
for purposes of sexual pleasure, under any name, coupling, swiving,
procreation, if he brings signed documentation of his sexual health
and absence of any diseases, signed by a physician. And if I spend
the night with him as described above, I may accompany him to visit
neighboring clan chiefs and their wives.
He had signed as a
witness.

"Damn you," she muttered, strode to the desk
and signed.
"Là. C'est fini."
She shoved the paper toward
him and threw the quill onto the desk.

He smiled like a fox with a hen in its jaws.
"Merci, belle ange."
Blowing the paper to dry the ink, he
approached the door.

"I want a signed and sealed testimony from
the physician, the one in the nearby village."

Lachlan bowed. "Anything else, my queen?"

"Hmph."

***

"What the hell is going on at Draughon?"
Kormad stood before the fireplace in the drafty, dark great hall of
Burnglen.

MacFie, who'd just returned from scouting,
strode across the worn out rushes. "I didn't see the men you left
there, m'laird."

"Damnation!" Those had been some of his
bravest, most canny men. He had few left. Pike was out of his head
with fever. Several of the others were witless, good for no more
than mucking out stalls. What he needed were the Drummagan men as
his own. And if he were their chief it would be so. "Did my men
flee the castle like rabbits? Are they dead? In Draughon's
dungeon?"

"I don't ken, sir."

"Send out Murray and Rusty to look for them.
Keep three men posted to watch Draughon at all times. If they get a
chance to kill MacGrath or the wench tell them to do it!"

"Aye, m'laird."

Something thumped off to the side. Kormad
turned to find his wee, fair-haired nephew partially hidden behind
a chair, wide curious eyes locked on him.

"Timmy." Kormad crossed the room, sat down in
the chair and held out his hand. The lad rose and crept to him. He
looked so much like Kormad's sister, each glimpse of those innocent
blue eyes was like a kick in the gut. "Don't fret, Timmy. I'll put
everything to rights. You will inherit the title and lands your
father denied you. You will one day be earl of Draughon and chief
of Clan Drummagan."
But I will be first, so that I can secure it
for you.

And the Drummagan wench would pay for her
father's sins.

***

Early the next morn, Lachlan passed Dirk,
Rebbie and several clansmen breaking their fast in the great hall.
Too late, he realized he should've made good his escape through the
servants' back entrance so as to not rouse curiosity.

"A good morn to you," Lachlan called when
they spotted him, then headed toward the exit.

"Where are you off to with such haste?"
Rebbie called, his voice echoing off the high ceiling.

Lachlan paused. They awaited his response,
all their eyes upon him.

He refused to let them know he was going to
the physician or what rubbish Angelique demanded of him, blast her
hide. He was a supreme, shining example of an indulgent husband,
and she should be thankful for him and his leniency.

He gave a tight grin. "I shall be back in a
trice."

Rebbie rose and followed him to the door,
curious eyes locked upon him.

"'Tis naught but an errand for my lady wife,"
Lachlan said in a low voice. Hell, if Rebbie got wind of this,
Lachlan would never live it down.

"What sort of errand?"

"Naught to worry about. Continue with your
meal."

Rebbie shrugged and returned to the table.
Lachlan hurried to the stables and saddled a horse, while the
stable lads scurried about bringing him what he required. He
hoisted himself into the saddle, kicked the horse into a gallop and
rode away from the castle.

Twenty minutes later, after cursing Angelique
the whole way, he dismounted before the physician's cottage in the
nearby village. 'Twould be easier to get this over with here than
have Doctor Ellis come to the castle where everyone would want to
know the purpose of his visit. A light rain misted his hair and he
glanced up at the low-hanging gray clouds. Aye, 'twas good to be in
Scotland again.

Fast hoof-beats approached on the castle road
and he curled a hand around his sword hilt.

Dirk and Rebbie raced around the curve toward
him.

Damnation!

They drew up even with him, their mounts
snorting and kicking up clumps of black mud. "What the devil are
you doing riding out alone?" Dirk asked. "Kormad would like naught
better than to ambush you."

"I am always on guard against such. And I
don't fear him." Lachlan had two pistols and a sword on his
belt.

"What are you doing here, at the physician?
Are you ill?" Rebbie asked.

"Nay. Never mind. Just don't tell anyone I
came here."

"Only if you tell us the truth."

"Damn you," Lachlan muttered, turning
away.

Rebbie laughed. "Come on then, out with it.
Are you needing a potion to enhance your virility?"

Dirk snickered.

"After the thorough bedding you gave her in
London, I would've never guessed." Rebbie was determined to grind
salt into his wound.

"Nay, I have no need of a potion," Lachlan
growled. He released a long breath. "Angelique kens of my
reputation with the ladies so she wishes assurance I don't have...
a disease."

Dirk and Rebbie guffawed and almost toppled
to the ground. Their horses stamped and danced about.

"'Tis not funny. Now, don't be telling anyone
or I'll no longer associate with the two of you bastards." Lachlan
knocked on the door.

***

A half hour later, Lachlan closed the same
door behind him on the way out, feeling more violated than he had
in his life. He cringed. Doctor Ellis had examined his member
beneath a magnifier. And checked every other part of his body while
he was at it. The man had inspected the hair on Lachlan's head for
thickness and sniffed his breath. With some of the prodding and
squeezing he did, if the man hadn't been a professional, Lachlan
would've cut off his fingers.