Chapter 16 #2
For a moment, he saw her as she’d appeared in his dream: not surrendering or innocent at all, but twirling in an sensuous dance, garbed in nothing but a length of silk, the whole of her lush body luminous as the moonbeams spilling into her bedchamber.
He was mad to come within a mile of her.
Yet what choice had he been given? None, and so…
He fisted his hands and took a few steadying breaths until the throbbing in his loins eased. Only then did he turn back to her.
“So, lass.” His tone was rough. “What do you know of coupling? What knowledge do you have of men? Are you aware of what will happen when we proceed?”
“All these questions,” she said, her own voice calm. “You are aware I am a maiden. Is that not answer enough?”
“So it is. You know little, if anything, of men.”
“I am eager to learn.”
Eager? Gods save him. The vulnerable area near his heart surged with triumph. Lower down, he felt a rush of his own ‘eagerness.’ He couldn’t help it. Never had he bedded a virgin. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to, yet…
The temptation was great, too powerful to resist.
“You needn’t look so stricken,” she said then, apparently guessing his thoughts.
“I may be of gentle blood, but I am not ignorant. Not all the men of Dunmuir are ancient, nor are they monks. I have observed more than one disappear into the shadows with a laundress or serving lass. And” – her voice again held a challenge – “I have seen what they’ve done there. ”
Donall nodded, for a moment not trusting himself to speak. “So you know how a man takes a woman?”
“Of course.”
“Aye, well.” Donall turned to the table and lifted an earthen jug, pouring ale into two cups. He lifted one, offering it to her. When she took it, he said what he must. “So catching glimpses of clansmen airing the skirts of willing lassies is the whole of your knowledge?”
She sipped her ale before answering. “We have animals at Dunmuir. They are wont to mate.”
“What?” Donall almost spewed his own ale. “Hard-run men ramming serving wenches in dark corners,” he muttered. “Rutting beasts. Is that how you think I would take you? Even under these circumstances?”
Her expression hardened. “How you treat me is of little import, only that you do. It is the result that matters, not the means.”
Donall swore under his breath and took a fast and deep gulp of ale. He slammed down the cup, watching her as he did so. Emotions flickered across her face, and plague take him, but he couldn’t figure out a one of them.
Yet he knew she was hiding something.
He could taste trickery in the air, again felt a net closing around him. His nape prickled, his every instinct warning that she wanted more than to forge peace.
When she lifted a hand to pluck at the strands of hair escaping her coiled braids, he knew that was so.
She was nervous, perhaps more edgy than him. She was just better at masking her feelings.
Even so, he saw through her.
“See here, lass. I am no’ one of your addlepated graybeards,” he said, frowning. “I will no’ be cozened. This is about something deeper than your sister’s murder and your sought-after alliance. Something else troubles you.
“And being cast in the same kettle with doddering fools and four-legged beasts troubles me. I want to be clear about what stands before you.” He felt his brows lowering, wondered if she knew he was standing again now – despite his annoyance.
She did that to him, rousing him at a blink, and that didn’t bode well.
Her mouth curved as if she knew and enjoyed her power.
“Cozening you is the last thing on my mind,” she said, clasping her hands before her. “Nor have I misled you about my knowledge of carnal matters.”
“Sweeting, you know as much about such pleasures as the cold, thick wood of yon door.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You are a poor judge of women, Laird MacLean. I am well apprised of all aspects of carnal passion and learned in the art of seduction.”
Donall looked her up and down. “Well apprised, are you?”
She had the daring to nod. “I have trained in the ways of pleasuring men,” she said, brazen as day.
“Ah, well…” Donall didn’t believe a word.
He did narrow his eyes and take a slow step forward. “Has no one ever warned you to be careful of what passes your lips?”
“No one would dare.”
Donall laughed. “The truth at last.”
“I would have the truth from you.” She glared at him. “That is the way of matters.”
“Och, you will have plenty from me.” He stepped closer, smiling now.
“You are crude,” she accused again.
“Nae.” He shook his head. “I am a man.” And you have pushed me too far.
“I know exactly what you are. A satyr!”
Donall’s smile spread. “Then prove yourself and be my siren,” he dared her. “Schooled in seduction, are you?”
She nodded.
“Show me what you learned.” He folded his arms.
“As you wish,” she said, lifting both hands to her bodice.
She began undoing the laces, her boldness surprising him.
But he also saw that her fingers trembled.
And so rather than rousing him, making him anticipate the moment her lovely breasts spilled free, the slight shaking of her fingers cooled his ardor.
If he were any other man, he might stand by regardless, caring only for the baring of her naked flesh. But he wasn’t just any man.
He was himself.
And so…
He grasped her hands and lowered them. “Fair lady,” he said, releasing her, “I admire your courage, but this has gone far enough.”
She stood still as stone, her gaze on his, fierce pride shining in her eyes. “You would go back on your word? Or…” Her chin came up, her eyes now glistening. “Am I not to your taste? Do you not… can you not desire me?”
Donall’s patience broke. “Och, I desire you,” he almost roared. “More than I should.”
“Then what is stopping you?”
“Your innocence,” he said, speaking true.
She again set her hands to work on her bodice laces. “Consideration is not what I seek from you.”
Donall scowled at her. “I know what you want. And I have agreed to comply, and shall.” He stepped even closer, now standing toe to toe with her.
“But before I do, you should be aware that I learned at a very young age to heed my instincts. And they are telling me you have more than one reason for all this.”
He paused to let a wicked gleam enter his eyes. His last attempt to frighten her out of this. “I know what that reason is, my lady,” he said, not knowing at all.
“What?”
“You desire me.”
“I do not.”
“Nae?” He slipped his fingers beneath her chin and eased her face upward. “Then why do you tremble?”
“Because I am cold.”
“What you are, lady, is in over your head,” he said, softening his words by tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb.
A tiny gasp escaped her and he smiled, a genuine one this time. “Lady, there is no’ a cold bone in your body.”
Emboldened because she did not pull back from his caress, he touched the tip of his middle finger to the freckle on her cheek.
A grave mistake.
Something fierce ripped through him at the contact, a rush of need that shocked him.
How could there be something so searingly intimate about placing a fingertip to one fetching freckle?
But there was. And he’d burned to touch that lone freckle from the moment he’d first noticed it perched so sweetly on her cheek.
And where did that leave him?
He knew…
Donall the Bold, laird of the great Clan MacLean and master of Baldoon, knight of the Scottish realm, stalwart defender of the Isles, brought to his knees by a freckle.
Furious at himself, he yanked his hand from her cheek.
He also forced himself to see not her, but Baldoon and all those within its great curtained walls.
Rather than be seduced by her almost-bared breasts and her freckle, he thought of the chaos facing his household if he could not soon charm his way out of her clutches.
She’d given him no choice.
Needing distance from her, he returned to her bed and resumed his usual stance against her bedpost.
“You are indeed a seductress,” he said, and this time his words held not a trace of softness.
Nor did he smile.
And neither did she. “Weighted down by onerous burdens is what I am. No more, no less.”
The resignation in her voice tugged at him. “A burden shared is a lesser one,” he said, surprising himself.
“My cares are my own,” she said, still standing as if frozen. “You already know my wish. The reason you are here.”
“Aye.” He pushed away from the bedpost. “I am here to bed you.”
“So you are.”
“You will release me afterward?”
She held his gaze. “In good time, aye.”
Donall crossed his arms, preparing again to be an arse. “I have warned you my interest will wane. One tumble, perhaps two, and my desire will cool.” Narrowing his eyes, he peered hard at her. “It always does.”
She gave a little sigh, came to stand right in front of him. “Think you I wish to keep your interest, Laird MacLean?”
“Why else keep me here?”
“You flatter yourself. It is not your lasting attention I wish to hold, but your bairn,” she said, determination glinting in her eyes. “I want you to get me with child.”