The Highlander's Temptation (9 page)

“Ye’re so beautiful, my lady,” he said.

Lorna opened her mouth, looking shocked for a moment before she schooled her features into one of demure complacency. “Thank ye, my laird.” Complacency was soon overrun by a teasing lilt of her lips. Lord how he loved the play of expressions. “Do ye always ask ladies to dance more than once when ye’re a guest in their home?”

“Only one.”
Ballocks!
He hadn’t meant for that confession to slip out, but it had.

Lorna chewed the corner of her lip, a look he’d come to recognize as one that she used when she was deep in thought, or conflicted. Did he make her feel conflicted?

Hell, she was doing a pretty damn good job of making him feel the same way. He moved closer, his hand circling the small of her back, feeling the warmth of her body, the slight indent at the base of her spine. She glanced up at him through lowered lashes, her lips pink, plush and…

Jamie wanted to kiss her. To sweep her up into his arms and taste all that she was. To run his fingers through her hair.
The primal dancing in the dew was making him feel feral in other ways. He dipped his head, inches from her lips, staring at her mouth. Her lips parted and she sucked in a breath, but she didn’t move away. Was it possible that Lorna wanted a kiss just as much as he did? He’d thought so last night, too. No matter what the both of them thought of marriage or commitment, there was definitely an intense attraction, a tug and pull that had him flaring his nostrils to take in her scent.

As much as Jamie wanted to lean the rest of the way in, he was acutely aware they were not alone. Surrounded by her brothers, her aunt, her clan. Now was not the time for kissing, even if he warred with the decision inside.

Lorna’s gaze flicked away from him for a second, then her hand clamped over her mouth, laughter filling her eyes.

Jamie turned around, watching as many of the young men ran toward the
sea, stripping out of their clothes. Their tanned backs and pale white arses a testament to how they trained and worked with only their plaids wrapped around their hips. The women laughed, hiding their eyes and peeking between their fingers. Magnus gripped onto Jamie’s arm and tugged him toward the water. As soon as they saw Jamie, Toby and Donald, too, ran toward the water, eagerly shedding all they wore.

Jamie
glanced over his shoulder at Lorna as he went, her eyes riveted on him. He smiled at her while he unpinned his plaid, tugged off his shirt, dropped his sporran and then moved to unhook his buckle. As his plaid unraveled, she whirled away, making Jamie laugh hard.

When Magnus gave him his answer tonight, Jamie was going to have a damn hard time leaving Dunrobin and Lorna behind.

An hour later, Lorna’s face was still flaming red. It was all she could do to keep herself turned away from the
sea filled with naked men—and one in particular who she shamefully wanted to see.

Even now, standing in the courtyard by the well as Magnus and his men brought in a line of sheep they’d sheer in celebration of the coming spring, the fertility of their animals, clan and good fortune, she had to press
her hands to her flaming cheeks.

Magnus came up beside her
, a beaming smile on his face. He always loved Beltane and Lorna couldn’t help but wonder if it was because many lasses clambered over themselves for his attention. Her brother was a gentleman to a point, but if a lass was a widow, or willing and not a virgin, he nearly always ended the evening with a bed partner on a holiday, though he refrained most of the time during the rest of the year.

Lorna smiled. Though he lamented that love was for fools, she knew deep down, her brother would one day find his match. “How many lasses are vying for a spot beside ye tonight?”

“Och, Lorna, ye shouldna speak like that. Maidens dinna use such vulgar speech.”

Lorna snorted. “Brother, ye know me not.”

“I know ye well enough to see ye eyeing our guest like he is a sugar crusted almond.”

She frowned. Was everyone going to be on her about Jamie? “I did no such thing.”

Magnus laughed. “Aye, ye did. But ye know he will not be here for long.”

“I know it.”

“He’ll be leaving most likely on the morrow, with my blessing, but without my men.”

Lorna tried to hide her surprise, though she could feel her face paling. Jamie would leave already? And what blessing was he talking about? Oh, no! Not marriage… Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke,
“What?”

Magnus glanced at her. “I suppose ye’re no longer too young to know what goes on in the world.”

Lorna swallowed, unsure if she was ready to hear everything he had to say. “And, that is?”

“War with the English.”

“How naïve do ye think I am, Magnus? I’ve known of the war since as far back as I can remember. What is it that our guest has requested? He wants ye to fight?”

Magnus nodded. “Aye.”

A shiver of fear stole over her, imagining foul English knights surrounding their castle walls. Every Scottish lass grew up fearing the knights. They had no morals, and wouldn’t cease their goals of massacring all of Scotland. They raped women, children, beheaded them. Even took brides on their wedding nights before their husbands had a chance to touch them first. It was enough to make any girl cringe at the word—English.

“I dinna want ye to leave,” she
whispered. The heat left her cheeks, and she felt the blood drain from her head down to her toes.

When she thought of Jamie Montgomery now, she didn’t see the wicked glint in his eye, but the fear of war and death. The man in question approached.

“Have a care, Lorna,” Magnus warned just before their guest stepped within hearing distance.

Lorna dipped her head, keeping her gaze on the ground.

“My laird, ye know well how to celebrate our spring.”

Despite her fear at why he’d come to Sutherland, Lorna couldn’t help being drawn to his voice.

She glanced up at him through her lashes, remembering the last time she’d done so and how close they’d come to kissing. And how much she still wanted to kiss him—despite him bringing the war to her family.

“My thanks, Montgomery. I’m pleased ye were here to enjoy it with us.” He clapped the warrior on the back. “Let us feast!”

The servants had pulled all the long tables out of the great hall, decorating the courtyard with them, filling the tops with flowers and candles. A dozen warriors started a blazing bonfire. Dogs romped around barking, and sheep bleated as they ran, newly sheered toward the gate to escape the chaos.

Heather ran up to Magnus grabbing onto his hands and begging for a chance to drink a bit of the s
picy wine Cook had made. Her siblings walked off, arguing over the potency of the drink, leaving Jamie and Lorna to themselves.

“Ye will leave tomorrow,” Lorna said, unsure of why she chose that certain line, but feeling as though
they needed to discuss…whatever it was that was sparked between them. Or maybe it was distance they needed.

“Aye. But I’d come back again. If I had a reason.”

Lorna lifted her brow, ignoring how her heart sped up at that line. “What sort of reason?”

Jamie reached out, stroked her chin, his lips curling into a devilish smile.
“There is one reason I can think of in particular.”

Lorna reached up, her fingers curling over his as she pulled them away from her face, but he didn’t let them go. In fact
, he moved a little closer, crowding her personal space and making her breath hitch.

“What reason is that?” Lorna whispered.

“Sutherlands have the best ale.” His eyes twinkled with merriment, as he teased her.

Lorna yanked her hand away and swatted at him. “Verra funny, my laird.”

“I jest not, ’tis delicious.” He gripped onto her hand once more and looking around the courtyard, tugged her around the side of the castle out of view. “But there is one other thing I’ve yearned to taste.”

Lorna’s heart skipped a beat. “Taste?” Her voice was low, raspy.

Jamie leaned up against the stone wall and pulled her closer, keeping their fingers interlocked and wrapped his other hand around her hip, singeing her with his touch. Lorna pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath her fingers. Their thighs brushed, and every part of her shivered.

“I want to kiss ye, lass.” Jamie dipped low, his nose brushing over hers.

Lorna sucked in a breath, her eyes closing. Jamie’s breath tickled her cheek and she leaned even closer into him. It seemed an eternity before his lips brushed over hers, soft, warm and infinitely spine-tingling.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding tight and she pressed her lips more firmly to his. Unfamiliar, but enticing, sensations skated along her limbs, knotting in her belly. She squeezed her thighs tight, humming at the spark of pleasure the move made, and the way her lips tingled against Jamie’s.

She’d been kissed before. But it was nothing like this. Jamie’s kiss was intense without being gratuitous, and she had the hardest time not begging him to deepen their kiss.

“Lorna!”

The two of them jumped apart at Heather’s voice.

Chapter Eight

“I canna spare any of my men at this time, Laird Montgomery, but I will give the Bruce what he requires from me in supplies and coin. He has my support, and should the fight reach the Highlands, he has my word, my men will be prepared and ready to fight.”

Jamie flicked his gaze back to Magnus
who sat behind his desk in the library. While the revelers continued to be merry outside, Magnus had taken the time to pull Jamie inside to give him his answer. But Jamie was having trouble staying focused on the conversation. Instead, he’d studied the flames of the candles, speculating whether or not they were as hot as the flames burning his blood.

Nay, after kissing Lorna, he’d barely been able to think about anything other than the sweet honey-taste of her lips and the scent of her hair.
Intoxicating. Stronger than any brew he’d tasted, or shied away from. His attraction to her was potent. Addictive.

Her youngest sister had promised Lorna not to say a word, but the secret was plain on his face he was sure.
At any moment, Magnus would shove away from his desk and throw a punch toward Jamie’s face. Shout at him for having touched his sister.

Truth be told, he should prepare to leave Dunrobin this very night, for n
o woman had ever struck him as Lorna had. No kiss had ever affected him as much. ’Twas a scary thing. He’d rather take on Magnus’ anger any day than face the turmoil raging inside him.

Magnus
, who must have noticed how oddly Jamie was behaving, had started to stare at him overlong.

Jamie cleared his throat, putting his focus back on the Sutherland chief. “I see. I will relay your message to the Bruce. And what of your support with your allies?”

“Ye have my word. I’ll send out messengers first thing in the morning encouraging they also give support to the Bruce in any manner they can afford.”

Jamie gave a curt nod. “
On behalf of the council, we are most grateful,” he muttered.

“A drink?”

Jamie had refused Magnus the last dram of whisky, and now he’d not the excuse of being tired from traveling. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep for a sennight given the racing of his thoughts. Though he’d not touched the stuff in years, again, Jamie nodded. “Aye.”

Magnus poured them both a healthy portion of whisky, and grinned as he handed a cup to Jamie.

“To seeing the English beaten,” Magnus said.

“To freedom.” Jamie raised his
cup to Magnus, and then they both drank heavily, perhaps each for their own reasons. The liquor burned a path down Jamie’s throat, and he sucked in a ragged breath, forcing himself not to cough when his body was most adamant he do so.

“Strong stuff, eh?” Magnus asked, lifting the jug in an offer to refill.

Unsure of why he did so—well, in actuality he was certain why he did, to forget Lorna—Jamie lifted his cup. One more and he’d be through with it. This time when he took a sip, the burn was welcomed. But it did nothing to lesson his need for Lorna.

“I dinna suppose we’ll be seeing ye again,” Magnus said.

Jamie grunted. “’Haps I will return on my way back south. I’ve several more clans to visit north, though ye’ve made my journey much easier with agreeing to send out messengers. My thanks.”

“We’d be happy to have ye once more.” Magnus wiggled his brows. “Many a lass was
glad to have ye hopping in the North Sea with the rest of the lads.”

Jamie laughed, though he could care less about any of those lasses. The one he had eyes for had turned her back. And, he admitted, he liked that all the more. Said something about her character. As much as she was willing to flirt, to taunt him for his arrogance, she wasn’t so easy to win over. Jamie liked that about Lorna. He liked the challenge of chasing her, and damn but the reward had been sweet.

Again his mind shifted to that kiss, the heat of her body molding to his, the press of her lips. He’d not even kissed her as deeply as he wanted to, had kept it as innocent as he possibly could. For both their sakes.

Jamie
tossed the rest of the whisky down his throat, then clunked the cup onto Magnus’ desk. The hour had to be nearing midnight. The two of them had left the dancing and bonfires beneath the moonlight in order to speak, and now that they had, Jamie was considering retiring for the night, though at first he’d had every intention of returning.

“I should get some rest so that I may be off at first light.”

Magnus finished his whisky. “Are ye certain? There is still yet a flame upon the wood.”

Tempting. Because he could watch the way the firelight reflected and glowed on Lorna’s hair and skin.
But then again, everyone would see him staring, for he was certain his gaze could not be pulled anywhere but toward her. It wouldn’t do for her brother to see him lusting after her when they’d just come to an agreement on a very important matter.

“’Tis probably best that I retire,” Jamie said, unconvinced.

“Nonsense. Another hour at least.” Magnus clapped him on the back.

“All right. Another hour.”

He shouldn’t have let himself be convinced, but if he were honest, it wasn’t truly Magnus that swayed him to return to the festivities. It was the chance to see Lorna’s face one more time. When morning came, she’d likely still be slumbering in her bed. Damn, but it would be nice if she were lying in his, their limbs entwined. When he felt his cock stir at the thought, he cleared his throat and held out his hand offering Magnus to lead the way.

They returned in time for the last maiden dance. Dozens of lasses danced around the fire in pure delight and abandon—and perhaps too much wine.

“Thank goodness not all the men are sotted,” Magnus murmured. “Else we’d have many weddings come the morning.”

Jamie
chuckled, glad he’d not drunk enough to seduce Lorna. As a matter of fact, he was certain he didn’t want to think on that at all. Jamie had oft followed the edicts of the other lairds and kept Beltane quiet. But with Malcolm at the helm of the Beltane festival at Glasgow, there was no telling what sort of deeds were going on. He’d often balked at the lack of celebration. Thank goodness his own sisters were already married off.

All thought left him as Lorna swung into view, her hair completely fallen out of its plait, curling in golden
firelight, waves around her shoulders and down her back. She still wore the marigold crown upon her head, and her lips were curled in a smile of pure delight. Her eyes danced with merriment. She’d lifted her skirts just a few inches, revealing her ankles and bare feet. Enough skin showing to make Jamie’s gut tighten, blood flow uncontrollably to his groin.

Ma
gnus grunted. “’Tis about time Lorna was married.” He said it so low, that it could have been to himself.

Jamie took it as encouragement, though he didn’t say anything in return. Was Magnus hinting that he wanted a proposal? He flicked his gaze away, trying to look upon the other women to sway Magnus’ opinion. It appeared to work
for the man clapped him on the back and then took off after a dark-haired lass he’d seen him dally with earlier in the day.

And good thing, because Jamie could only keep his eyes off of Lorna for so long.
He wanted to run into the circle, to pull her into his arms and finish the kiss they’d begun hours before. But dancing beside Lorna were her aunt and sister, as though they were both keeping her safe from him. Had Heather told their aunt she’d caught them kissing?

And why should he care? He was a laird, a ruler of his own clan.
A member of the Bruce’s council. He was powerful. It had only been a kiss. Maidens kissed warriors all the time.

Jamie crossed his arms over
his chest and frowned. And at that moment, Lorna turned to gaze up at him, the rapture on her face momentarily stilted as she caught his stare.

He quickly regretted his irritation, and flashed her a genuine smile. How could he not? Every time he looked at her, she brought about feelings inside him of both joy and irritation. A war he didn’t understand, and was reluctant to explore.

Lorna broke away from the maidens. From behind her, he was surprised to see that Heather grabbed their aunt from the line of matrons and tugged her into the circle. Neither Heather nor Fiona paid Lorna any attention. Instead, they continued to dance as though Lorna had never left their side.

He raised a curious brow, eyes never leaving Lorna as she sauntered toward him. The glow of the fire surrounded her. Cheeks flushed with excitement. It was a look he could have seen every day for the rest of his life and been happy.

“My lady,” he said softly as she approached.

“I’d thought ye’d gone to bed, my laird.”

“Not as yet.” He couldn’t tell her he’d come back outside to catch another glimpse of her. His gaze raked over her and he ground his teeth to keep from grabbing her and tossing her over his shoulder. Her gown was not immodest, but that didn’t matter, it hugged her curves in all the right places and tempted his imagination with what might swell and arch beneath. All sorts of primal and possessive emotions spilled through him.

“I’m glad,” she said, gifting him with one of her sensual smiles.

He was tempted to ask how much wine she’d had to drink. Jamie wasn’t one to take advantage of a lass, even if she’d let him kiss her before, and even if his need to taste her sweet lips again was nearly overpowering him. Could it be the whisky? The two cups had warmed his blood, but seeing Lorna, that had put a true fire into him.

“As am I,” he managed to answer.

“When do ye leave?” she asked.

“At first light.”

Disappointment clouded her features. “Will another fifteen years pass before I see ye again?”

A bold question and one he wished he could answer, but in truth… “One can hope
’twill be sooner. Much sooner.” He’d not meant to say that. Where the hell did that come from?

“One?” she asked, searching his gaze.

Och, why did lasses always want a man to expand on the things a man said? Didn’t they understand men had only so many words of emotion they could utter?

“Aye, lass, I would hope to see ye before fifteen years passes us by.”

“As would I.” She frowned, chewing her lip. “My brother told me why ye’d come here.”

“Did he?”

She nodded, but didn’t expound on her statement. Instead, she fiddled with her fingers and what looked like a woven grass ring. Jamie couldn’t help but postulate about what her brother had said. But that was the last thing he wanted to think about, so he forced himself to concentrate on the movements of her fingers.

“Did ye make that, lass?” he asked.

Lorna glanced up at him and nodded. “Childish, I know.”

“Nay, ’tis not.” He reached out
, palm up and she placed her fingers in the center of his outstretched hand. He brushed a thumb over the grass ring. “Most of our lives ye’ll find that things go in circles, just like this ring. There are reasons for everything, and everyone has a purpose.”

Pretty green-blue eyes
, dancing with firelight shadows, squinted up at him, surmising the meaning behind his words.

“The English have invaded our world, lass. Do not be afraid of what’s to come, for we all must fight to live in our own world. Wrangle our freedom from tyranny’s grasp. Some more than others.”

“Why are ye telling me this?” Her fingers danced a little on his palm, a nervous tremor perhaps.

He didn’t want her to be nervous with him though. He tightened his hold, an instinctual protective move.

“Because, I want ye to be prepared for what comes.” He made a gesture with his free hand to their surroundings. “Here in the Highlands, ye’ve not got a firsthand look at what the devil Sassenachs are doing to our country. How they ravage it.”

“We’ve seen.”

“Some, aye. Ye’ve had a glimpse, but where I live, I see it nearly daily. I’ve had to wipe the tears and blood from a lasses face after she’s been attacked in the wood. I’ve had to comfort a widow when her husband died, and find a family for an orphaned child.”

Lorna blanched, and Jamie realized he’d said too much. No lass wan
ted to hear about the cruelties and realities of life. Especially on a night when she was celebrating her youth and freedom.