To Catch a Highlander (21 page)

She whirled on him. "No! I'm just trying to find the right words, and I—oh, it's complicated!"

"Lies usually are."

She wetted her lips. "Lies?"

He raised his brows.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping, an expression of almost relief crossing her face. "You know."

Dougal nodded.

"Everything?"

He nodded again.

"How we tried to conceal the house's value? And disguised the beautiful paneling in the library? And—"

"Blocked up the chimneys and hid the good furnishings and served me food a dead man would refuse."

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry about that."

"No, you're not. You wanted me unhappy and uncomfortable."

"Well, yes—but not
very
uncomfortable. Only enough that you'd decide the house wasn't valuable."

"So that I would toss the deed onto the gaming table after you spent so many evenings luring me thither?"

She flicked an impatient hand. "And here I thought I'd been so devious."

"You were. I accidentally overheard you talking to Angus the day I arrived."

Her hands balled into fists. "You've known since the very first day?"

"Yes."

"Yet you pretended not to know anything."

He shrugged. "I thought to enjoy the show. I'm fortunate I overheard you because otherwise your plan would have worked."

Her gaze locked with his. "Would it?"

As much as he hated to admit it, he said, "Yes."

She pressed a hand to her temple. "Blast, blast, blast! I—I don't know what to say." She dropped her hand and faced him. "Red should have never wagered the house. It wasn't just his but mine as well."

"And you, my love, should never have made my bed so damp and lumpy. But don't worry; I haven't slept in that bed since the night I arrived."

"Where have you been sleeping?"

He smiled. "I joined
Shelton
in the tack room. We found a cot and added some blankets; it's been quite comfortable."

Her cheeks blossomed with color, and she sank onto the bench with a shaky laugh. "I can't believe you've known all along, which means we did all of that for nothing." She looked up at him. "Why didn't you say something?"

That was an interesting question, one he'd asked himself. He didn't like the answer, either: He'd wanted her to tell him. The thought made him frown. Why did he care if Sophia lied to him or not?

Perhaps it was a matter of pride.

There was no more reason to remain. He had received her confession; what more could he want?

Sophia asked, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to forgive my
faux pas
and stay a while longer?"

"So you can entice me into throwing the deed onto the table in a game of chance?"

She met his gaze boldly. "Yes." She stood and crossed the space between them, tilted back her head and said in a silken voice, "And I would wager myself."

Dougal's body stiffened. The soft breeze teased the tendrils about her face and caressed her skin, bringing her faint scent to him. His gaze raked over her face, her eyes, her plump lips, her delicate throat, and beyond to the rounded swell of her breasts and hips. He remembered kissing her neck, tasting her after winning the first game. His lips still warmed at the memory, his body aflame yet again.

He wanted this woman as he'd wanted no other, but that was the reason he had to leave. He couldn't afford to care; and the way his spirit roared to life when she was about alerted him to that very danger. They were alike, the two of them. They lived for challenges and dared to defy life when they could.

His blood heated, and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her, from molding her soft, pliant body to his. She was so small and yet, in her own way, dangerous. She threatened his peace of mind, his equanimity, and his strength.

Dougal glanced up at the sky, where remnants of yesterday's storm still cast shadows over the dew-covered shrubs.

That is what happens when you care too much. That is what happened when Callum died and you thought you'd go made with grief. If you begin to care for anyone else, it will just make you weaker.

Even now, he had to fight a shudder at the storms he'd caused after Callum's death. There had been no stopping them, and it had been a miracle that no one had died. Riding his horse through the rain-swollen land, trees overturned and roofs ripped away by the winds, houses burned down by lightning, Dougal had seen the stunned faces of the villagers, had seen their disbelief as they looked at their ruined houses and lives. Worse, he had seen their fear.

Never again, he'd vowed. He would never allow another person in. He couldn't afford to.

"Dougal?"

He closed his eyes, refusing to give in to that warm, tempting voice.

"Dougal, just one game. That's all I want."

"No," he said harshly. "I wo—"

She kissed him, standing on tiptoe, her arms around his neck, her curves molded to him.

Dougal was lost at the first touch of her lips. Raw passion surged through him as he lifted her to him, holding her closer. He was aware of a thousand things at once yet couldn't form a single coherent thought. The softness of her breasts as they pressed against his chest, the roundness of her derriere as he cupped her to him, the way her gown caught on his coat as he lifted her higher still, his mouth possessing and taking without cease.

Sophia had never been kissed in such a fashion, and oh, how she loved it! This was what the poets wrote of, what the maids had whispered about, what she had missed her entire life until now. Passion. Pure, unbridled passion. It thundered through her, filling her, completing her.

She was soaring, lifted by the heat of Dougal's embrace, urged on by his seeking hands. He broke the kiss only to trail his lips across her cheek to her ear. She shuddered with delight as he nipped at her lobe, shivers dancing over her skin.

She moaned and clutched him tighter, wanting more, needing more. Suddenly, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bench, where the shrubberies hid them from prying eyes. He tucked her onto his lap and cupped her chin with one hand as he lifted her lips to his once more.

She felt flame and fire, heat and sensuality, deliciously aware of the clinging silk of her gown, the faint rustle of lace at her breasts as Dougal's seeking fingers slid over her, the cool air on her toes as her slippers dropped to the grass.

She couldn't seem to get close enough. She tightened her hold around his neck, seeking more.

Responding to her urgency, Dougal molded her to him, his sensual kiss burning through her, into her, making her moan as she opened for more. More of him. More of the kiss. More of the intoxicating feelings that grew with each moment.

She felt the slip of his tongue over her teeth and shivered delightedly.

Dougal's hard mouth teased hers while his hands roamed freely, sliding over her hip to her waist and then up to her breast. He cupped her breast through the thin gown, his thumb finding her nipple and teasing it to aching hardness. She moaned and pressed closer still.

"Me lord?" came
Shelton
's raspy voice from the gate. "Are ye there?"

Sophia's eyes flew open, but Dougal didn't stop his explorations.

The gate creaked open, and then came the sound of booted feet walking hesitantly down the stone path. "Me lord? Should I walk the horses some more?"

Sophia pulled away, and Dougal reluctantly allowed her. Her entire body was aquiver, and she couldn't stop her hands and legs from trembling. She was on fire for more and couldn't seem to get her brain to work properly.

Dougal discovered that Sophia's ploy had worked and he had indeed changed his mind about leaving. He would
have
this woman. He'd play her game, win, and slake his lust.
Then
he'd leave, calmly and without emotional fanfare.

He set Sophia on the bench, where she attempted to right her clothing with hands that shook. Pleased, he said quietly, "Wait here." Then he made his way back to the pathway, where he found
Shelton
.

Relief flooded the groom's face. "There ye be, me lord. I was just wondering if the horses should be—"

"Leave them saddled, but remove my portmanteau. We'll take them for a ride before it gets too warm."

Shelton
's face fell. "Remove yer portmanteau? Are we not leavin', then?"

"No. We are staying one more night."

"And after that?"

Dougal lifted his brows. "Go."

The groom flushed and scurried off.

When Dougal returned to Sophia, she was smoothing her gown back into place, unaware that a long curl of hair had come undone. Her cheeks were flushed, and her mouth was kiss-swollen.

A swell of satisfaction made him grin. He would burn this powerful yearning out of his blood with a good, solid night of passion. Then, when he left, Sophia MacFarlane would have no doubt about who had the upper hand.

"Sophia, I will stay."

Her smile trembled a bit, but she lifted her chin. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Hesitation flickered through him; there was something heart-wrenching about the way she looked, a touch of vulnerability in her gaze. He was imagining that, of course. She was the daughter of a notorious gambler and had traveled through
Europe
in the company of hardened rakes.

And the cool manner in which she comported herself could not be mistaken. Her actions spoke of her experience more than anything else: she'd prepared a plan to trick him into a game of chance and had been willing, even eager, to offer herself as the opposing stake. How could such a woman be an innocent?

Still, it would not do to leave such a concern unspoken. "Sophia, I do not dally with innocents."

Her gaze flickered, but then she flashed a calm, knowing smile. "I am no innocent, MacLean. I know exactly what I'm doing."

He relaxed. Of course. No innocent could have so boldly stood before him in just a chemise, flashing that taunting smile. He'd slept fitfully because of that smile last night, dreaming of taking her over and over again.

Her eyes gleamed through her thick lashes now. "Dougal, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but… are
you
an innocent?"

He blinked, too stunned to answer.

"Because if you are," she continued, laughter filling her voice, "then perhaps you
should
leave this morning."

"I will be glad to prove my experience this very evening. Will that suit you, Sophia?"

She nodded, her lashes shielding her expression from him. "It depends on who wins what, doesn't it? In the meantime, I will show you the house as it really is. I cannot undo everything, but I can show you some of the better qualities that Angus and I managed to hide."

"Done. But first, I am going to take Poseidon for a ride. He needs the exercise." And Dougal needed the cool breeze to regain his control. He crossed to Sophia and captured one of her wrists, then lifted it and pressed a kiss to her bare skin.

Her smile quavered but remained. "You, my lord, are giving me goose bumps."

"Every beautiful woman deserves to be clothed in no less." With a tug, he pulled her against him, her full breasts pressed against his waistcoat, her hips brushing his.

She looked up at him, her eyes mysteriously shadowed by her lashes, her cheeks a rosy pink. "MacLean, don't you think we should at least—"

He silenced her with a kiss, sliding his hands around her waist to hold her against him. She melted into him, giving herself to the passion as if his fire had ignited hers. She pressed against him with reassuring eagerness, her arms twining about his neck, pulling him nearer.

Dougal was once again afire. He stopped thinking, stopped considering, stopped everything but enjoying the kiss that consumed him.

Sophia stirred, her hands pressed to his chest. He loosened his hold and looked down into her flushed face. "Yes, my love?"

"I—I should go. Angus will come looking for me if I don't return to the house soon."

"But I hadn't finished yet."

Her lips quirked in a smile. "That was a long kiss."

"Longevity is one of my gifts."

She wasn't quite sure she understood him, but his expression sent a riot of heat over her face.

Dougal chuckled and ran a finger over her cheek. "Such beautiful skin. Such lovely color."

Sophia pulled away, and with a reluctant grin, he released her.

He followed her to the path, then ran a finger across her swollen bottom lip. "You are right, my love. If we were to continue, I might not be able to stop at just a kiss."

The words were more promise than threat, yet she shivered. What was wrong with her? Her limbs felt leaden, her tongue unable to form words, her mind a blank.

Dougal's finger slid to her chin, and he lifted her gaze to his. Warm humor filled his green eyes. "But I have never played a more enjoyable"—his gaze lingered on her lips—"game…"