Chapter 14
William rushed out to welcome his army as they arrived. Without meaning to, his gaze searched the sea of familiar faces for the vivid splash of red hair.
It was an easy find. His gaze fixed on Kinsey, and his heart stuttered in his chest.
She rode tall and proud on her horse; her chin notched slightly upward as if beckoning him. Her eyes shone a brilliant blue against the gray skies in the distance. She was even bonnier than he’d recalled.
Their last conversation had been in a room where the air held the scent of intimacy, and her sensual cries still rang out in his head. He forced himself to meet with Reid first as his friend leapt off his horse and approached.
William clasped Reid’s forearm. “Was yer journey uneventful?”
“As easy as it can be in the mud and rain. And far more uneventful than those villages that were set upon.” His gaze ran over the heavily fortified stone wall and spoke quietly. “Do ye think ’tis possible to make Newcastle fall?”
“Depends on how long they can last inside without supplies.”
Reid grunted, an unintelligible sound that was answer enough: he didn’t think it possible. At least he was smart enough not to voice his opinion. One never knew who was listening with so many of the king’s men surrounding them.
The king’s decision to lay siege on Newcastle was overzealous.
William greeted several of his men before stopping in front of Kinsey as she dismounted from her steed. Her slender legs were encased in a pair of trews that hugged her thighs distractingly and a leine that was nipped in at the waist with a belt.
The wind blew at her back, tossing her red curls about her and bringing her sweet perfume toward him. Images flashed in his mind of touching her, kissing her. Every sensation in his body ignited.
His cock stirred.
They could have a dalliance, of course. One that might fade to nothing between now and the time he would have to wed the Campbell lass.
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to have her when he was so well aware of his obligation.
His decision to keep his distance from her had been so much easier when she’d been a day behind him in their travel.
Seeing her now, however, and being slammed with the memories of the intimacy they’d shared, he wondered if the lairdship was even worthwhile.
“William.” His name on her lips made an invisible band around his chest squeeze even tighter.
Best to do it now than before it was too late. Before it would be impossible.
“I need to speak with ye,” he said.
“Oh?” She slid him a coy glance that shot straight to his prick. “I need to speak with ye too.” She took a step closer. “Alone?”
He swallowed. “Aye. Set up yer tent and then come see me.”
Her lips quirked in a sensual smile, and she turned away. He followed her departure, unable to stop himself from watching her round bottom sway side to side in the those tight trews.
Jesu.
Guilt sliced through his interest like a blade.
She couldn’t be his.
He went back to his tent to wait for her. Time ticked by at an interminable pace as he went over his speech in his head, anticipating how she might reply and what he could say in return. And through it all, he couldn’t help but question his decision to become laird.
But could he really choose a woman he’d only known the short side of a month over his people, his birthright? Over what he’d spent a lifetime trying to be worthy of?
The flap to his tent swept inward, and Kinsey was there, wearing those damn trews. She pushed her curls back from her face and sauntered toward him.
“What do ye think?” Her hands skimmed up the sides of her thighs and stopped at her hips, framing them. With a wicked grin, she turned her backside to him and glanced over her shoulder.
The leather fit her curves perfectly.
His mouth went dry.
What did he think?
That he wanted to cup that firm arse in his palms while grinding their bodies together. That he could still edge his fingers into the fitted garment until she was wet beneath his touch and crying out like before.
Only this time, he wouldn’t stop.
“’Tis far easier to fight in.” She turned back around and kicked a single leg upward in demonstration. Her smile wavered. “Ye don’t like it?”
He shook his head. “It isna that.” He let his appreciation show as he ogled her from her top to bottom and back again. “I like it verra much.”
The air in the small tent warmed, as though heated by the sudden intimacy charging between them.
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing ye.” She stepped closer and gazed up at him. “I’ve been thinking of ye.” Her cheeks flushed with a delicate pink. “Of the last time we were together.”
The sweet, delicate scent that he loved so much teased at his senses.
“I’m sorry I left so abruptly,” he said. “I meant to bid ye farewell.”
“Reid told me.” She set her hand on William’s chest and slowly drew it upward. A caress. One of intent.
His cock went immediately hard.
Damn it.
“He also said ye were quite fond of me.” She brushed her body against his and gasped, glancing down at his evident arousal.
“Kinsey.” Her name came out as a groan.
She ran her hand down his torso. “William,” she purred.
Her eyes were heavy-lidded, sensual. It would be so easy to curl his arms around her slender frame, to pull her close and let the passion between them flare mindlessly out of control.
“We canna do this,” he ground out.
She rose on her toes and pressed her hot mouth to his neck. “Tonight,” she breathed.
He closed his eyes against the exquisite torment of his need. “Nay.” He stepped back from her, and his heel bumped the wall of the tent.
She gave a little laugh even as her brow furrowed with her confusion. “William, what is this about? I thought...” Her confidence faltered. “I thought ye wanted me. I thought we wanted each other.”
He ought to lie and tell her he did not but couldn’t bring himself to say such a falsehood. Not about this. She deserved to know the truth.
“I do want ye,” he admitted. “I want ye so bad I canna sleep at night for thinking of ye.”
“Is it because I told ye I didn’t want to be yer leman?” She stepped closer. “I don’t want to be a leman. I enjoy being a warrior, but we could still be together. And if we are discreet, no one will ever know.”
She reached for him, but he shook his head. Her hand paused midair, and her fingers curled inward to the safety of her palm as her arm lowered.
“It isna that.” He sighed. “I have to wed. Someone who will help my clan.”
Her stare hardened. “Is this where ye ask me to be yer mistress?”
“Nay,” he replied vehemently. “I wouldna ever ask that of ye. Nor can I allow what is happening between us to go on knowing I couldna give ye all of me, that I would eventually have to take a wife.”
“Eventually,” she repeated. “But not now?”
He nodded.
“What if it is years away?” she asked. “Will ye live like a monk?”
“I dinna think I’m the monk type.” He tried to give a smile, but it broke under the weight of his responsibility.
“So ye would find others to slake yer lust…” She swallowed and looked angrily away. “But not me?”
The pain in his chest burned like the heart of a fire, and her words were the air blowing upon it, making it glow with heat.
“I canna trust myself with ye,” he said.
She lifted her head. “I don’t know what that means.”
He took her face in his hands, marveling at the silkiness of her skin, the fierce determination glittering in her lovely pale blue eyes and that sweet, sweet scent he wanted to lose himself in.
He memorized every delicate freckle that dotted the bridge of her nose and the shape of her delicious mouth.
“I dinna think I could have ye without losing my heart,” he admitted.
Tears swelled in her eyes. “So ye’d rather not have me at all?”
“I’m so sorry, my Kinsey.” He brushed his thumb over her chin. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not yer Kinsey.” She stepped away, withdrawing from his touch, then stiffly turned from him and departed his tent.
He released a long, slow exhale, not that it made him feel a bit better.
There.
It was done.
Except even if it was the right thing to do, it felt so horribly wrong. The ache in his chest widened, splitting into a chasm in his heart.
He had lost Kinsey forever.
Sieges proved to be exceedingly dull. One had little to do but sit and wait. And think.
The latter was what brought Kinsey the greatest torment. The thinking.
Her mind tangled with her heart and somehow left her stomach twisting with an anxious unease she did not like. It took the flavor from food and stretched minutes into hours. Nothing could abate the ache lodged in her chest.
In the drag of days that followed, the remainder of the king’s armies slowly trickled in after having many successful raids. Their stories left a foul taste in her mouth, and she turned a deaf ear to them, preferring her own company or that of the men of her own army.
Her melancholy only grew worse, no matter how much she tried to force herself to distraction.
She practiced archery but found her mind still prodding at the wound of rejection.
She’d even tried her hand at learning how to fight with a sword, a poor decision if ever there was one, for it attracted William’s attention.
He watched her as she swung the ungainly weapon, sweat damp on her brow despite the November chill. They all repeated the same lunge and thrust move over and over, but his focus remained locked on her. At least, until he strode toward the group, heading directly for her.
The slam of her heart echoed in her ears and practically rattled her ribs. Not that she gave him any indication she’d even noticed him.
She continued on as if he didn’t exist, as if he were not shattering her entire world with his impending presence. Her hands locked more tightly on the hilt in an attempt to still their trembling, and her gaze trained on an invisible enemy.
“Ye’re using too much force,” he said.
She steeled herself for his presence and turned to face him. The pain in her chest squeezed into an agony that almost robbed her of breath.
She tilted her head at an angle, feigning a disinterest she did not think she could ever feel. “I beg yer pardon?”
“If ye fight against the weight, ye’ll tire too quickly.” He withdrew his sword as though it weighed nothing. “Use the heft of the blade to help yer attack.”
His blade swooped through the air, sailing downward with ease.
During practice, he’d pushed up his sleeves, and the muscles along his forearms flexed beneath his sun-golden skin.
Powerful, masculine strength that had once held her through the night, which had once so lovingly touched her in the most intimate places.
She shoved the thought violently away, but its sting was not as easily removed.
Mimicking his motions, she swung the blade up and let its bulk drag it downward.
He nodded. “Aye. ’Tis much better. This time, tighten yer grip on yer hilt.” He lifted his weapon in demonstration.
She tried to copy him, but he shook his head.
“May I?” He stepped closer, and all the air around Kinsey sucked away, leaving her head spinning.
If she declined, he would know the emotions roiling inside her. Despite her desire not to, she nodded her head.
He came behind her, and that familiar, spicy scent of him splashed over the wound inside her chest like the sharpest vinegar. His hands reached over hers, repositioning them on the hilt.
Mayhap it was her imagination, but his touch was tender. The way it had been under different circumstances.
He spoke as he instructed her, but she did not hear his words. Instead, their conversation played out in her mind.
I canna trust myself with ye.
I dinna think I could have ye without losing my heart.
A knot swelled at the back of her throat.
“Kinsey.”
She looked up at him and wished she hadn’t. Their gazes met and held. A flash of pain showed in the depths of his brown eyes. She wanted to be uncaring, but in that moment, a tingle of warmth at her eyes told her she was on the verge of crying.
His hands still covered hers, as if he were hesitant to release her.
A muscle worked in his jaw dark with whiskers, as if he had not shaved in several days, and made her crave the rasp of the bristled hair against her palm. Or the contrast of the smoothness of his lips over hers with the roughness of his chin.
He glanced around, then edged closer, speaking low. “I’m sorry.” He paused as though collecting his thoughts. “I…” Whatever he intended to say tapered off.
It was for the best. Hearing it would do her no good.
Nothing he could say would change matters.
She glared at him and jerked her hands from beneath his, allowing rage to blanket her hurt. “I understand the hold on the sword now.”
He stepped back with a nod and strode away.
Though she’d wanted him gone, she hated every step that took him farther from her. She craved his warmth, his scent, his touch, even as she wished she’d never known any of them.
What was more, he’d spoke of needing a woman who could offer something to his people. His da was a laird, but Kinsey’s grandda was a chieftain.
The Ross Chieftain was a cruel bastard who had stolen her eldest sister from their home and forced her to marry. The union worked out well for Faye, aye, but it didn’t excuse what he had done. Kinsey loathed the old man and would rather die than ask him for anything. Even a dowry.
Nor did she want a husband who would only wed her for what she brought him. She would not buy marriage.
Not even for Sir William MacLeod.