The Viper (18 page)

She realized her mistake right away. Or maybe she'd known what would happen all along and wanted it to happen. She wanted to have even more of a reason to hate him. Lachlan MacRuairi was not a man to provoke.

He pulled her into his arms. Pulled her against the powerful chest that she'd noticed far more times than was proper.

She gasped as her body came into contact with his. He was so hard. His chest was like a wall of granite. It should be uncomfortable--intimidating--but it wasn't. The visceral awareness of his strength made her feel safe and protected.

As he lowered his head, her heart seemed to stop, pausing in that terrifying, agonizing moment that she'd both dreaded and craved. Finally, he covered her mouth with his.

She felt his groan all the way to her toes. The primitive, masculine sound poured through her veins like molten lava.

The first taste of him was like a shock. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Sensation exploded inside her. His lips were so soft and warm, his taste sublime. Like a dark, rich wine mulled with cloves.

She felt infused with it. Infused with him. As if one touch--one taste--could mark her forever.

His mouth moved over hers deftly, passionately, demanding a response.

She should push him away. This was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Usually she didn't feel anything. Except this time she did. She felt her body flush, her pulse race, and her senses fire with unfamiliar yearnings.

Bella didn't understand what was happening to her. She felt so warm, her body so heavy. And there was an insistent knot coiling low in her belly.

She waited for her body to stiffen. For the vague feeling of revulsion to come over her as his mouth accosted hers.

But it didn't happen. For a brigand who took what he wanted, there was nothing forceful about Lachlan's kiss. His passion was warm and enticing, not cold and cruel. It was not an assault or mauling but a dark seduction.

Lachlan made her want to wind her arms around his neck and pull her body closer. To melt against him. To mold her soft curves to every hard inch of him.

Lachlan made her want to yield. To open her mouth and give freely of what her husband had tried to take.

Lachlan made her ...
want
.

God help her, she wanted him. Desperately. Like she'd never wanted anyone before. She'd thought herself incapable of desire. Every bit as cold to passion as her husband accused. But she felt it now. Felt it awaken in a tingling rush of heat and pleasure.

She sank against him, savoring the wicked sensation of her breasts crushing against his chest. And then with a sigh, she opened her mouth.

Lachlan let out a growl of satisfaction when he felt her yield. He'd wanted to punish her for making him lose control. For giving in to the lust that he'd sworn to avoid. He was mad. Angry. Pushed to the edge. But his anger dissolved the moment he touched his lips to hers. A wave of something soft and powerful crashed over him. Tenderness, damn it. He could never hurt her. He'd told her he would never use force, and he meant it.

God, she was sweet. Sweeter even than he'd imagined. He couldn't have pulled away if he wanted to.

He half--more than half--expected her to push him away. But her tentative, innocent response nearly undid him.

The sensation of her soft, sensual lips opening under his drove him wild. He slid his tongue into her mouth, kissing her deeper, harder, claiming every inch that she was willing to give.

She was kissing him back, her sweet little cries urging him on. He could feel her press against him. Feel the desire building inside her. Feel the increasing urgency of her kiss.

His tongue circled hers. Slowly at first, then faster, as the sensations swirling between them built.

He'd been waiting so long for this, he couldn't take it slow.

Heat surged through his veins. His skin was hot. Tight. Too small for his body. His muscles flexed, straining against the sensations. His cock lengthened and hardened against her.

He could feel every one of those lush, soft curves against him, but still it wasn't enough. Closer. He had to get closer.

He plunged his fingers through the soft silk of her hair, cushioning her head as he leaned her up against the door, bending her deeper into him.

There. Oh, Jesus, right there
. A wave of heat nearly dragged him under.

His body melded to hers, his cock wedged in that soft place between her legs. The urge to thrust taunted.

It felt too good. Too right. He could almost feel what it would be like to slide into her. How he could cup her bottom with his hands and lift her against him, wrap her legs around his waist and push into that soft, wet glove of her heat.

He'd rip open her bodice so he could feel the hard points of her breasts raking against his skin. Her skin would be flushed, hot, the scent of roses even stronger.

He could feel the frantic beat of her heart as he brought her mouth more fully against his and gave over to the passion long denied unfurling inside him.

Bella was lost in a haze of desire unlike anything she'd ever imagined. His kiss grew more insistent. Each carnal slide of his tongue against hers licked the flames a little hotter.

She could feel his hardness between her legs, and it flooded her with even more intense yearnings. He moved against her. A slow grind of the hips that sent a flutter of awareness shooting up her spine. She wanted to feel him inside her. Wanted to feel him moving--

Dear God!

The wickedness of her thoughts brought her harshly back to reality. What was she doing? How could she have succumbed so easily, so completely? What was wrong with her?

A flush of shame replaced the heat of passion. After years of suspicion and irrational jealousy, she'd finally made her husband's accusations come true.

She pushed him away. "Stop!"

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire. With lust. Seeing what she feared so badly made her lash out. She slapped his face. "How dare you touch me like that!"

She didn't know who was more shocked by the violence of her reaction. His face turned back to her slowly, and she cringed seeing the imprint of her palm.

"Are you offended that I touched you, Countess, or just mad that you enjoyed it?"

The truth of his accusation stung. Tears swelled in the back of her throat. "What do you want from me?"

A slow, lazy smile curled his mouth but never reached the hardness in his eyes. "What are you offering?"

The mocking brigand was back. The man who didn't care about anything. How could she have thought differently? "It's always about money to you, is that it?"

His gaze, an even more piercing green than usual, raked over her in a way that made her feel dirty. "I wasn't talking about money." She gasped. "Countess, if I wanted money from you, I'd take you to Edward myself."

"I'm surprised you haven't, since gold is all that matters to you. Didn't you tell me yourself that Robert is done? Seems like you picked the wrong side this time. What will happen to all that coin you've been promised?"

"You have me all figured out, don't you, Countess?" He held her gaze, and something in his eyes made her wish her taunts back. "You make a good point. One I'll have to consider. It's always good to weigh your options." He gave her an exaggerated bow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to."

Bella almost called him back. She knew she'd been unfair. That the shame of dissolving in his arms had made her lash out at him. It wasn't his fault she hadn't pushed him away the way she should have.

But she didn't. Calling him back wouldn't change anything. Even if they made it out of this alive, what kind of future could they have? She was the set-aside wife of another man. Nothing good could ever happen between them. These feelings--the intensity of emotion pouring through her--scared her. She feared what they might make her do. It was better this way. She had to make sure something like that never happened again.

Now that she'd tasted passion, she wished she never had.

She joined the others in the chapel and tried to sleep. But she kept one ear pinned to the door, hoping to hear him come back.

He never did.

Just after dawn, she stirred at the sound of a door closing. It was Magnus again. He'd come in and out a few times, during the night, probably checking on the men keeping watch outside. She could hear him whispering to William, "He should be back by now."

She quickly got up and hustled over to them. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," Magnus said honestly. "But we should gather the rest of the women and get ready to go."

By the time she did, it was too late.

"You can't do this!" The frantic voice of the priest was the first hint of what was to come. Through one of the arched windows they could see the old man standing a few feet before the church door, arms wide, trying to block the entrance.

But the soldiers paid him no heed. The Earl of Ross and at least a hundred of his guardsmen had surrounded the church.

Dear God in heaven, they'd been discovered! She couldn't believe it. It wasn't just the shock of discovery, but also the egregiousness of what she was seeing that made her blink with disbelief: Ross was breaking the sanctuary of the church.

She heard Magnus swear. He and William exchanged looks. She knew they wanted to fight. William shook his head. They were outnumbered, even for men of their skill.

"Someone could get hurt," William said.

Magnus nodded, his expression as grim as she'd ever seen it.

The men would be the first to be punished, imprisoned, or executed without trial. "Go," she said. "Save yourselves. Nothing you can do will help us now."

Both men looked outraged by her suggestion. "Our duty is to protect you, my lady," Magnus said. "As long as there is breath in my body, I will do so."

While Magnus went out to negotiate their surrender with the treacherous Earl of Ross, Bella tried to calm the rising panic of the other women. But there was nothing she could say. After over a month of hiding, of running for their lives, it was over. Ross would take them to Edward, and they would be at the English king's mercy.

Thank God, Lachlan wasn't here. It was fortunate indeed that he'd managed to escape their fate.

But where was he? Could he be watching? Part of her feared that he might do something rash to try to rescue them. The other part actually believed he could. If there was one thing she'd learned about Lachlan MacRuairi, it was that he would do whatever it took to get the mission done. He'd rushed into a burning building without thinking to save one man; what would he do with all of them?

When she'd stepped out of St. Duthac's Chapel into the crisp morning sunshine to surrender to the Earl of Ross, she couldn't help scanning the countryside, half-expecting him to race out of the trees.

The earl must have been watching her. Ross was similar in age and expression to Buchan--and just as stern and proud. He'd spent six years in Edward's prisons after his capture at Dunbar; never would she have thought him capable of this travesty. "Looking for someone, Countess?"

She tried not to show her surprise, but her heart immediately started to pound. Ross knew about Lachlan, which meant ...
Oh God, what had happened to him?

Ross's smile was smug. "I must admit I thought Bruce had better sense than to put an opportunistic scourge like that bastard MacRuairi in charge of you. The man can't be trusted. He's stolen rents for me for years. More than even the capture of Bruce's ladies can repay."

Bella rejected what he was saying, ignoring that her initial characterization of Lachlan had been much the same.

Despite what she'd accused him of, the thought that Lachlan might have betrayed them hadn't occurred to her. Should it have? But at the mention of "repay," a vague uneasiness settled in. "Where is he? What have you done with him?"

Her voice must have given something away. Ross lifted a brow speculatively. "The bastard is hardly worthy of your concern, Countess. He's the one you have to thank for leading us to you. He won't be any help to you now. But don't you worry, Lachlan MacRuairi will get exactly what he has coming to him. All his debts will be paid."

Bella's stomach knifed.
Leading us to you ...

No, he wouldn't
. She couldn't believe him capable of such treachery. To sell them to Ross, knowing what would befall them.

"
Don't trust me ...
" His warning came back to her.

Ross walked away, ordering his men to put them in a cart to take them to Auldern Castle.

William must have seen the horror in her expression. He came up beside her before she was roughly shoved into the cart. "There has to be a mistake, my lady. The captain wouldn't--"

His voice stopped as disbelief filled his eyes. Bella turned in the direction of his stare, and gasped. Her heart seemed to shrivel in her chest. All hope that she'd been wrong died.

Lachlan stood at the base of the hill, surrounded by a handful of Ross's men. He was staring at her. When their eyes met, there was no mistaking what she saw: guilt.

Her chest burned with emptiness, as if a big, hot stake had hallowed it out. She'd trusted him. She'd thought ...

She turned away. Of all the disappointments in her life--her father, her husband--none had cut this deeply. By now she should have known better. She was no longer a fifteen-year-old bride or a little girl begging for crumbs of her father's attention.

Lachlan had shown her the kind of man he was--he'd told her not to trust him--but she'd invented romantic fantasies, making herself believe there was something more to him. She'd actually convinced herself he cared for her. But all he'd wanted was what was between her thighs, and once she'd denied him that ...

God, it shouldn't hurt this badly.

"Chane--" Gordon tried to yell something as the cart was pulling away, but one of Ross's men pushed him to the ground.

Changed? Was that what he was trying to say? Bella realized it no longer mattered. What difference did it make, when they'd been caught?