Chapter Fifteen #2
Her insides were churning. She could scarcely breathe, let alone talk, yet somehow she managed. “And just how might you do that, Scotsman?”
“One kiss at a time,” he whispered just before his mouth closed over hers.
Indeed, it took but one kiss to plunge her into desire.
And aye, her arms stole willingly around his neck.
His mouth parted hers; warm breath mingled with hers.
His kiss was burning. Masterful. Persuasive.
It made her come all undone, weak in the knees and wanting.
Yet there was something in his manner that warned her to beware—
She tore her mouth away. “Why?” she cried. “Why do you continue to kiss me like that?”
“Why do you let me?” he countered.
“You didn’t want me as your wife,” she reminded him unsteadily.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my bed.”
Everything inside her seemed to shatter. It was a blow to the center of her heart. “Am I to be flattered, then? You were hardly the eager bridegroom.”
“While you were certainly eager to make yourself my bride.”
Maura blanched. “May I remind you it was you who…who…”
“Claimed your virginity?”
“Aye!” Little wonder that she faltered. Her feelings—her thoughts—were scattered in every direction.
She dared not meet his eyes—on several counts.
For one, embarrassment flooded her every pore.
Secondly, she feared he’d glimpse the lie on her face.
Guilt rode heavy on her soul. She couldn’t let it sway her.
It couldn’t be helped. It didn’t change what the Black Scotsman had done those many years ago.
The Black Scotsman had stolen the lifeblood of every soul on McDonough lands forever after.
It didn’t change her reason for placing herself at Gleneden.
Oh, Lord, she was digging herself ever deeper.
She had to make Alec believe it. She had to make him believe her!
Because if she didn’t, then all her effort would be for nothing. She couldn’t leave, not without the Circle.
“I want you in my bed, Maura.” His tone was very deliberate. “I daresay that with the exception of that one night in Ireland—that one night,” he stressed, “you endeavor to stay out of it.”
Maura’s face flamed. Her heart lurched. Honesty commanded a high price, a price she could not pay. It was wearing on her, wearing her to the bone. She hated that Alec would surely despise her deceit, and it was killing her.
She had been right to be wary. Aware that he watched her closely, she had the wildest sense he peered directly into her soul.
“Am I wrong, Maura?”
She looked away.
“Look at me, Maura.”
She tried to withdraw her arms. He only held her tighter.
“Why? You said I didn’t hurt you,” he reminded her. “Did I?”
She shook her head.
“Did I please you?”
She bit her lip. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She constrained her vision to the plane of his cheek.
“If I did not, I apologize. I understand a woman’s first time can be difficult. I regret if that was the case.”
Maura cringed inside.
“It is embarrassing to admit I have no recall. I beseech you, share with me what memories you have of our first union. Perhaps I might remember then. Perhaps I might exchange those memories with new ones.”
Maura’s gaze jerked back to his face. Her pulse skittered. Oh, Lord, she thought in sudden panic, did he know she had drugged him? She had the awful sensation he did.
“You wanted me as much as I wanted you. That, I haven’t forgotten, Irish. Yet now you make me doubt my skill as a lover. If not, permit me the chance to change your reluctance.”
She was trapped. Caught in a web with no way out. “You mock me, Scotsman.”
“I merely question what continues to elude me. But I admit, I am puzzled by your behavior.”
“How so?” She could barely force the words past the tightness in her throat.
His gaze never left her face. “You dance away,” he said softly. “You dance back. It’s almost as if I wed another woman entirely.”
Maura felt her cheeks flame. She curled her fists against his chest and pushed herself away.
But there was nowhere to go. His stance was wide, his shoulders broad. He was every inch the haughty duke. He was like a fortress of stone that could not be breached.
“Come here,” he said softly.
She shook her head.
“I’d enjoy a bit of a tussle.” There was a pause. “In bed or out,” he added silkily.
Maura knew her eyes were huge. “Alec—”
“I’m a man, not a boy, Irish. I’m acquainted with the pangs of desire.
I’m well acquainted with the desire in you, Duchess.
Your lips do not hide what you seek to hide.
I’ve tasted the passion in you, in every kiss we’ve ever shared.
In the heat of your body, the dew between your thighs, every breathless little sigh into my mouth. I cannot rob what you give freely.”
Her composure was fraying. She felt as if she were in a maze, twisting and turning, unable to find the way out.
“How long, I wonder, will you continue to deny me?”
“I—I do not deny you.”
“Oh, but you do.”
Maura stepped back. Her hand went instinctively to the pouch in her pocket. She gripped it, pulling it out, curling her fingers around it, willing it to give her strength.
“May we continue this discussion tomorrow? It has been—”
“Ah, yes, I know. A tiring day. Or perhaps the ache in your head has returned.” This time he did mock her. “Run, Irish. Run away once more. But it won’t be long before I catch you.”
Maura swallowed. But when she turned, her slipper caught in the hem of her skirt. She would have gone down if Alec hadn’t snared her elbow.
And somehow her little velvet pouch slipped from her grasp and fell to the grass.
Alec bent down and caught it in his palm. His expression changed to one of curiosity as he felt the weight within it. “Perhaps I’m the one who needs a sprinkling of your fairy dust.”
He nudged the strings apart. Maura tried to stop him but then everything inside her froze. It was as if she watched from some far distant place as Alec opened the pouch and turned it upright.
The contents spilled into his palm. Dirt and stones sifted through his fingers to the ground.
And he laughed. He laughed.
“Well, if that isn’t the damnedest bit of fairy dust I’ve ever seen.”