The Highlander's Temptation (10 page)

“Apologies,” he mumbled, letting go of her hand, and glancing around at those who still danced and drank with
merriment. “I did not mean to put a damper on this festive occasion.”

Lorna pulled his hand back into hers. “Thank ye.”

Jamie nodded, raising his brow in question. “I am not looking for gratitude, lass. Go and enjoy yourself.”

“Nay, ye dinna understand. I thank ye for being honest with me.”

That caught his attention, and he glanced back at her face, seeing her sincerity there.

“Ye were fierce and grave even at fourteen,” she said, a smile curling one side of her mouth. “And now, here ye are, just as grave, and all the wiser for it.”

“I dinna know about that.”

“’Haps ye should look inside yourself.” She glanced behind her at her oldest brother. “Ye know, Magnus is wise as well. He has refused to give ye men, but coin and supplies instead.”

Jamie nodded, and she met his gaze once more.

“’Tis because
he believes he will need them,” she said.

“
He will.”

Lorna glanced down at the ground, and her hands trembled for a moment. “I’m scared. As remote as we are, news has reached us that the English have many. They may not fight as well as we do, but they’ve got more
men. More coin for their cause.”

“’Tis a lost cause,” Jamie grumbled.

Lorna stroked a finger over his knuckles as if she’d wipe away his consternation. “It may verra well be a lost cause, Jamie, but since when does a desperate man lie down in defeat when his need is so great he’d risk everything for it?”

“Ye speak of Longshanks?”

She nodded. “He’ll never stop. Not until the day he dies.”

Jamie frowned. “Ye know a lot about bad men.”

She shrugged. “Having your parents murdered can do that to a lass.”

Jamie had
the sudden need to take away her fear. Her pain. “Let us talk no more of death and greedy men. Should ye like to dance with me?”

She chewed her lip. “’Haps ye’d like to give me a goodbye kiss instead?”

Jamie’s heart pounded forcefully, and he held his breath, trying to replay what she’d said, uncertain if he’d heard her correctly.

“A kiss?”

Lorna laughed softly, giving him a coy look. “Unless, ye truly wished to dance instead.”

Jamie shook his head. Never would he give up a chance to kiss her.
“Nay, lass. I much prefer kissing ye.”

Lorna’s lips parted, perhaps shocked that he would admit as much. But the look in her eyes, the way she’d so boldly expressed her wish made him want desperately to pull her into his arms and give her exactly what they both wanted.

The key was keeping it to a simple kiss, for it could not go beyond that. He’d never take a maiden to his bed, and he had no plans to marry.

But a kiss was… just a kiss.

And so he glanced around and noting that no one seemed to be paying much attention to them, he took her hand in his and said, “Lead the way, lass.” He wanted it to be about her, he wanted her to be in charge, for if he was to steal a kiss from a willing lass, at least he wanted her to be the one who chose when and where.

“Follow me.” She let go of his hand and took off at a fast walk toward the stables.

Jamie kept a respectable pace behind her, hoping not to draw anyone’s attention. Her two brothers had found willing lasses to dance with and her sister and aunt were no longer in sight—perhaps having already gone to bed. None of the other clan members seemed to be the wiser, all otherwise occupied, and that suited Jamie just fine.

A kiss. One kiss and that was all.

One kiss to say goodnight, and goodbye.

One kiss to last him the month
or so it would take before he could return for another—a last kiss that would be. For then he’d have to return to his clan and his duties.

Ahead, Lorna opened the stable door and slipped inside. Jamie didn’t follow her in that way, instead he snuck around the back and entered through there, finding her facing the front doors.

She startled when he cleared his throat behind her. It’d been a hard feat not to sneak up behind her and slide his hands around her waist. Instead, he waited for her to come to him, willingly.

Standing in the light of a single torch, Lorna looked like a heavenly creature come to liaison with a mere mortal. Her golden hair fell in waves around her shoulders,
bits of marigold fell from her crown and tucked themselves within her tresses, a shroud of beauty. Her eyes were curious as she examined him, and there was a faint smile on her pink lips. Lips he remembered kissing, and wanted to kiss again.

“I didn’t realize ye’d be coming in from the back,” she said quietly.

“Better that no one see us both going in the front.” Jamie ran a hand through his hair.

Lorna chewed her lip and took a tentative step forward. Jamie kept his feet rooted firmly in place, though his eyes roved hungrily over her form.
Her breasts looked soft and pert, belly flat, her hips round, he could only imagine what she’d look like if he were to ever slip the gown from her shoulders, slit the ties with his dirk, and savor her bare flesh.

“Ye’re right.” She glanced up at him, her eyes slightly wide, pupils enlarged in the dim light, and she took a step closer. “My brothers would lock me away if they knew I’d snuck in here with ye.”

“They’d toss me off their land. ’Haps even withdraw their support from the council.”

“We risk much.” Her bare toes touched the tips of his boots.

Jamie held his breath, until his lungs burned, and then he drew in a deep pull, her scent filling him, intoxicating him with its heady potency.

“Aye, lass, we do. But”—he reached up and tucked a soft tendril of hair behind her ear—“I canna seem to keep myself away from ye.”
He brushed his thumb along her cheek, cradled the side of her face.

Lorna turned her face against his hand, lightly kissing his palm. A shiver stole over him, tucking itself firmly in the middle of his back. Such an intimate gesture, and though slight
, it rocked him to the core.

That tiny kiss was all the invitation Jamie needed. He stroked along the other side of her face, both hands holding gently to her cheeks one pinkie finger resting on the pulse at her neck. Her heart beat just as fast as his.
Gazing into her eyes, he read her interest, her curiosity and desire. Lorna wanted him to kiss her, that much was evident from the way her body was reacting to his nearness, but he still wanted to hear the words from her lips.

“Lorna,” he murmured. “Tell me what ye want, what ye need.”

She wrapped her arms around his middle, tiny hands splaying along the sides of his spine. “I want ye to kiss me, Jamie. I need ye to kiss me. To escape for a moment from this world.”

“Och, lass, ’tis the same for me.” And then he lowered his mouth to hers, brushing her lips with a gentle swipe of his. “Your taste intoxicates me.”

And this time he meant to taste her, to explore her mouth with sensual intent. Jamie slid his tongue along the seam of her lips, toying with the corner of her mouth until she parted for him on a gasp.

Though he wished to plunge inside, to claim what she offered, he kept his exploration gentle, dipping in to tease the tip of her tongue with his own. Swirling, savoring. Lorna tentatively mimicked his movements, but when she moaned he couldn’t help sliding a hand around her back and crushing her form to his length. Supple, curvy and taut all in one, her breasts pressed to his chest, her pelvis tucked to his, and Lord help him, her warmth cradled his engorged cock.

Both of them gasped at the sudden increased intensity. Jamie claimed her mouth then, a possessive, demanding kiss. One that let her know just how much he desired her. One that if someone were to see them, they’d know exactly where he was headed with that kiss.

And with that thought, he tore his mouth from hers, both of them panting from desire and exertion.

“Lass…” he murmured, catching his breath.

“I’m no lass, Jamie, but a woman full grown,” she replied, lips rosy and plump from his kiss.

“Aye, ’tis why we must stop, else I take your full grown body and press ye into the straw and make love to ye all the night through.”

Her already flushed cheeks intensified in color and her mouth fell open as though she would say something. Whatever she was going to say remained stuck to her tongue, though her body pressed closer to his, giving him a clue as to what she
desired. As much as he wanted to push her to the ground, undress and savor every inch of her in slow, delicious swipes of his tongue, Jamie had to recall who and where they were.

He growled a curse and turned away from her, hands on his hips, head facing the ceiling as he dragged in a ragged breath.

“Oh my God,” Lorna whispered behind him. “Apologies, my laird. I dinna know what…”

Her retreating steps echoed in his head, forcing Jamie to turn around to see her back, nearly to the door she was.

“Wait!” he called.

Lorna stayed her tracks, and Jamie rushed up behind her. He slid his hands over her shoulders and bent toward her ear.

“Ye dinna understand, sweeting,” he whispered. “I didna push ye away because I dinna desire ye, but because I do. ’Tis wrong for me to take the gift ye offer. We are both drunk on wine, on desire. In the morning ye’d regret it, for what more could I offer ye?”

A sigh left her, shoulders sagging. “Ye’re right,” she said. “There could never b
e more than this between us. My brothers would never allow me to go south and I… I…” But she didn’t finish.

Instead, she pushed his hands from her shoulders and ran out of the stables, leaving him feeling
colder, more alone, than he had been when he arrived at Dunrobin two days past.

Chapter Nine

The morning brought with it for Lorna, not only another vicious headache and queasiness, but a sense of regret. She rolled from her side to stare up at the canopy covering her bed. An embroidered brocade that her mother had worked on as a girl much Lorna’s own age, in the hopes of giving it to her eldest daughter.

She gazed at the swirling knots contemplating her regret.

’Twas not for having kissed Jamie, but for having run out on him after saying there could never be anything between them. His kiss had been everything. All-consuming and filled with incredible power. Her body had lit on fire and she’d never wanted it to end. If she’d been willing to lie down in the straw with him, to give him everything she was worth—for a lass had nothing if she didn’t have her maidenhead—then obviously there was already something between them. A strong pull, a draw she couldn’t get away from.

Now it was too late. He said he was leaving at first light and judging by the golden
rays of dawn streaming through her window, Lorna had no doubt that he’d already gone on his way. And she’d never see him again.

Though he’d said he would return on his way back to Glasgow, she doubted he would now.
There was no reason for him to. And hadn’t that been his stipulation? She’d knocked that into the ground and squashed it with her bare heel.

The man she’d dreamed about since she was a child. The one she’d been waiting for as she turned her nose up at every possible suitor. For no one could match the bravery, the handsomeness,
of the one who’d saved her life when she was a wee lass, and now he had swept her off her feet with his powerfully sensual kiss.

“Oh, Jamie,” she whispered, sitting up in bed and rubbing her temples.

Regret filled her, because she’d pushed him away. And now she would be doomed to a lifetime of sadness and misery. Just as every other fair maiden was in the tragic romances she’d heard of. ’Haps she could prevail on her brother’s kindness in sending her to a convent where she could at least serve God and the people of Scotland rather than wallowing in self-pity for the rest of her days.

A soft tap sounded too loudly at the door. “Who is it?” she called out,
a nasty bite to her tone. She quickly covered her ears for having spoken too loudly, and groaned as she flopped back onto her pillow.

“’Tis me, lass,” her aunt called.

“Go away,” Lorna whispered, unwilling to bring back that sharp sting.

“I’ve brought ye some of Cook’s tea.”

That was enough of an enticement for Lorna to pull herself from bed and unbar the door. She didn’t normally lock herself in, but last night she’d been so upset she’d wanted to block out everyone and simply be by herself. Or maybe it was because she was afraid she’d leave in search of Jamie, to finish what they started, and hoped the bar would somehow sway her to stay put.

She cracked the door open to see Aunt Fiona looking way too cheerful.

“How do ye feel, love?”

“Horrid.”
Lorna frowned and worked hard to get the cobwebs from her eyes.

Aunt Fiona chuckled. “I gather ye’ve drunk enough wine that past few days to fill a cellar.”

“I’ll not be drinking more for a while.”

“Probably best.” She set a tray filled not only with Cook’s special tea, but a pewter dish f
ull of apple tarts. “Sweets always help a queasy belly. Come now and have your fill.”

Lorna’s stomach turned and she gripped it, certain she’d be filling something else and not her belly.

Aunt Fiona chuckled again, the sound starting to grate on Lorna’s nerves. She bustled over to Lorna and gripped her elbow, practically dragging her to the table, where she pushed her into a chair before taking the one opposite her.

“Drink. Take a bite.”

Lorna shook her head. “I dinna think I can.”

Aunt Fiona studied her a moment, her eyes narrowing as she assessed her. “I think
ye’re more affected by a broken heart than a splash too much to drink.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lorna huffed a breath.
“I’ve not got a broken heart.”

“Huh.” Aunt Fiona raised a brow, then plucked an apple tart from the tray, tore off a tiny bite and popped it into her mouth.

Lorna glared at her, took a sip of the wicked tasting tea and swallowed, feeling her belly calm almost instantly. Now if only she could get the pain searing across her temples to disappear.

“Huh,” Aunt Fiona said again.

Lorna rolled her eyes, rubbed her temples. Why had her aunt changed her tune? Days ago she was getting the riot act about her morals, and now her aunt was being…comforting. ’Twas odd and completely out of character for her. “What does that mean?”

“Simply that ye’re not telling me something.”
She leaned forward, as though they shared a secret. “Is there something ye wish to tell me?”

“I’ve nothing to tell.”
Lorna had an idea what her aunt was looking for. The woman had obviously turned an eye when she’d snuck off to the barn with Jamie, for Aunt Fiona had eyes
everywhere.
And if Lorna was nay mistaken, her aunt seemed almost pleased about it.

“I think ye have.”

Lorna stared her aunt straight in the eyes as she spoke. “Ye’ve got too much time on your hands. Where is Heather?”

Aunt Fiona waved her hand in the
air and then popped another minuscule bite into her mouth. “Och, she’s after Ronan to teach her to sword fight.”

Lorna took another long sip of tea then sat back in her chair, closing her eyes an
d willing the pain in her skull to disappear.

“
Laird Montgomery has departed.”

“I gathered.”
Though Lorna had known it had to be true, hearing the news drove the dagger of regret further into her chest.

“Does it bother ye?”

Devil take it, aye, it bothered her! Immensely. Which only made Lorna’s frown deepen. Angrily, she grabbed at one of the tarts and stuffed an overlarge bite into her mouth. “Why should it?”

Fiona shrugged, appeared to ponder something for a few moments and then sat forward. “’Tis only I saw the two of ye sneak off into the barn. Another minute and I would have demanded a wedding.”

Lorna ground her teeth together, the bite of apple tart settling like a thick, uncomfortable lump in her belly. She’d been right. The woman was all-seeing. “Nothing happened.” Nothing that she would tell her aunt about anyway. The woman was liable to think that a simple kiss was enough to force a wedding, and Lorna refused to ever marry a man who didn’t wish to be hers forever. Even if she’d been the one to push him away.

Aunt Fiona’s eyes narrowed, squinting at her as though she’d see inside her soul. She was thankful in that moment that she’d not grown up in the woman’s household, certain every naughty deed she would have ever committed would be quickly nosed out by the formidable woman.
“He did nay compromise ye?”

“Nay
,” Lorna said, perhaps a bit too vehemently. “He did nay compromise me.”

“Did he…kiss ye?”

“Aunt Fiona!” Lorna tossed her unfinished tart onto the platter. “The man took no liberties with me, and I am still intact. We…talked. ’Tis all.”

Fiona frowned and set down the tart she’d barely touched. “Well, I must admit to being disappointed.”

“What? Why?” Lorna couldn’t help the exasperation in her tone. Did her aunt truly just admit she’d wished that Lorna had let Jamie take away her innocence? She sat forward, wondering for a moment if her aunt’s body had been inhabited by a demon or fae or some other such fanciful creature that would take away the woman’s faculties, for certainly this was not Aunt Sourpuss or Frigid Fiona sitting before her. “Aunt Fiona?”

Her aunt waved her hand away and stood. “Laird Montgomery was quite a catch. I’d have loved if the two of ye could have formed a match.
Would have made all the parties involved pleased, to be sure, and then Magnus would nay have to worry over ye anymore. Lord knows he’s got his hands full with your sister.”

Lorna crossed her arms over her chest refusing to let her own desires for that very same thing affect her.
Marriage to Jamie Montgomery would have been pleasing to her, too—if she was willing to marry. “Well, ’tis not to be.”

“For lack of wanting on your part?”

The way her aunt gazed at her felt like the woman could see straight into Lorna’s heart. ’Twas unnerving and left her feeling exposed for the fraud that she was.

“Aye. I’ve no interest in marrying
any
man, Jamie included.”

“
Jamie is it?” Her aunt again pursed her lips into a smile that said she’d caught her.

Zounds!
Why hadn’t she thought before speaking—a lesson she would have done well to learn.

“
Lass, ye will have to marry someday, even if ye decide today is not that day.”

Lorna nodded, though she couldn’t swipe the frown from her face.

“Because there is no choice in the inevitable end result of your marriage to someone, I thought to help ye at least make a match that would suit ye best. Was not Montgomery better than MacOwen?”

“’Haps
Laird Montgomery did not want to marry me. Did ye think of that Aunt Fiona? Just because I may or may not fancy a man, does not mean he is madly in love with me.”

Aunt Fiona nodded. “’Haps not madly, but there was a spark. Sparks often grow into flames.”

“Not when doused with a bucket of water.”

“And what bucket is that?”

“Reality. The differences between us.”

“I did not see so verra much.”

Fiona picked up her partially eaten tart and started to walk toward the door. Lorna watched, and was startled when her aunt quickly spun around. “So few of us have choices in who we wed, lass. Some of us are forced to wed men older than our fathers, meaner than snakes or just downright ugly as boars. Consider yourself lucky that your brothers love ye so much and are willing to let ye have a say. I canna say whether your parents would have allowed such leniency. And even if ye were my own daughter, I canna say whether I would have considered your thoughts. But if I were ye, I’d make the choice sooner rather than later. For when we wait too long, the best choices are often far beyond our grasp.”

Aunt Fiona didn’t wait for Lorna’s response, but instead whisked out the door, closing it loudly behind her.

Lorna sat back in the chair, feeling heavy and confused.

There was no one else she’d rather marry. And yet, she wasn’t ready to marry him either. What of Jamie
—was he prepared? She imagined him with another woman and felt a burning rage bubble up in her chest.

That wouldn’t do. Not at all. Did that mean she really did want him for herself?

She’d certainly enjoyed their kiss. Felt magical tingles every time his lips had touched hers. Missed him when he wasn’t near. Found herself looking for him and sneaking glances at him. Felt that her heart had shriveled now that he was gone.

Aye, the man had rescued her when they were children, but she’d only known him as a man for
a few days. That wasn’t enough time to decide if she wanted to spend her life with him. She shook her head. Not nearly enough.

And yet, there didn’t seem to be a possibility of her getting to know him ever again.
Jamie had taken his leave with no intention of returning.

She didn’t regret at all having left the barn. Allowing Jamie to take her upon the hay would not have been wise. As much as she desired his touch, or to explore what more pleasure could be found in his kisses, she also respected herself. Knew that allowing a man a couple of kisses in return for lifting her skirts was less than she deserved.

In truth, she shouldn’t lift her skirts for anyone other than her husband. To do otherwise would mean she was a wicked wanton, and yet, Aunt Fiona had planted a seed. If he were to declare his love for her, and she truly loved him in return, would it be so bad if she let him touch her? Should she not experience lying with a man, who she loved dearly before she was married off?

Frowning, she swiped at her matted, sleep-mussed hair. Lorna didn’t know what the right answer was. In her heart, it seemed that if a man loved her and she loved him, that he
would marry her. But in reality, she knew that was not always the case.