Chapter Six #2
There wasn’t any way to tell by looking at him. The sway was making the lamplight move with it, sending the glow from her knees to his and back, but it wasn’t far enough to penetrate his side.
“Is that why you won’t let me have more wine?” she asked, a bit surprised and yet pleased that she’d linked that many words together.
“Very good. There isn’t much hidden that you canna’ uncover with those clear, sky-blue eyes of yours, is there? That’s a very good thing. Very.”
“Why?” she asked, absolutely amazed that she wasn’t full-out laughing at what he’d just said. She had sky-blue eyes? No one had ever described them like that. Her frown of concentration deepened. Actually, no one had ever described them at all.
“There’s a lot hidden, at present.”
“There is?”
“Aye.”
“Why?” she asked.
“That’s for you to discover. I just made mention of it, dinna’ I?”
“You…hide things?” she asked.
“All the time. Trust me.”
“But…why?”
He sighed again, but if it hadn’t been for the white of his shirt she wouldn’t have seen it.
She watched the movement and wondered why he’d be able to move such a large chest, if he didn’t have that big of one to begin with.
She wondered if that was the case, and knew it was by the proof in front of her eyes.
That wasn’t a good thing at all, she told herself.
Her chin rose, and she moved her eyes to where his had to be.
That was probably a mistake, but she was making lots of them in a short amount of time, and one more shouldn’t matter.
Because he’d put so much dark mahogany wood to his coach, and patterned the seats in red and black, and since he was wearing black, with only the white cloth marking where he was, he was blending into the background.
If it weren’t for the shine of his eyes, and glint of his teeth when he smiled, he’d not be easy to spot at all.
She opened her mouth and said, “You’re a very handsome man, Monteith.”
He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes at that.
At least, that’s what she thought he did, since the shine disappeared for several moments.
When what light they had slithered onto his knees, she could see he’d clenched his hands on his knees, too.
He had very nice-shaped fingers, she thought, moving her glance all the way down him and back. She hadn’t noted that before.
His hands were very large, too. Everything about him was large and well defined, masculine and extremely fit.
Big. Brawny. Beautiful. Very. It still wasn’t fair.
She reached out, connecting with a shockwave that jolted through her wrist, and then ran her index finger along his, before stopping at the obstruction of his cuff.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because regret and recriminations are terrible things to live with in the morning.”
“What?” She’d opened her hand, resting her palm atop his hand, and then she was sliding the rest of her fingers along and entwining them between his.
“If any fool ever gives you so much as a drop of wine, I’m lynching him. On the spot. Without a trial. Myself included.”
“Why would…you do that?”
“Because you hate me,” he answered.
“I do?”
“If you dinna’ already, you surely will, if I allow this to continue.”
That made less sense than anything he’d said the entire trip. Lisle reached out with her other hand and held to his. He opened his fingers the moment she did, allowing her to easily place them within the grasp of his, where they were swallowed by the size of him.
“Why are you doing this…to me?” he asked. He wasn’t using his low, smooth voice. It sounded rough and mean.
She’d done it more to keep herself from falling. That was strange. It felt like she was already falling. She didn’t dare tell him any of that. “I doona’ know,” she answered, lifting her face to his.
“Doona’ offer what you’ll regret, Lisle.”
“I haven’t offered anything,” she replied.
“Then, sit back onto your side like a nice young lass, and allow me some time to gather myself.”
“What if the answer to that is ‘nae’?” she asked.
“How long have you been without a man, Lisle?”
That was absolutely senseless. She’d just left Angus that day. She opened her mouth to say it, and then closed it again. She knew then that wasn’t what he’d meant, and her tongue reached out to lick at her own lips to moisten them so she’d be able to answer.
“A long time,” she answered, and then added the truth. “Never.”
The fingers tightened on hers, entrapping them, and she could feel the muscles above his knees going to the same tautness. He has muscle above the knee? She wondered at it and wished he’d let her go, so she could experiment further with such an idea.
Instead, he was moving forward, his knees bending into a right angle to the floor of the carriage, and then he went past that, to a near-squat as he took up entirely too much room.
He was definitely the most handsome man she’d ever seen, she decided, looking from the top of his shiny black hair, which he’d tucked behind his ears, down the aquiline nose, and ending at lips too perfect to belong to a mortal man.
None of this was fair, she told herself.
He wasn’t supposed to be beautiful, and she wasn’t supposed to be holding to him, and she definitely wasn’t supposed to have her parted lips within inches of his.
“Do you ken what it is you’re about?” he asked, using a whisper of sound she barely heard over the roar in her ears.
She nodded. Then, she shook her head. There was an answering smile hovering on his lips. She didn’t look past that.
“Doona’ close your eyes this time.”
This time? Why was nothing making sense? As far as she knew, there had never been a first time. She didn’t shut her eyes. He did. Which made it awful strange that he had no trouble tilting his head so he could fit his perfectly formed lips to hers.
Lightning struck the coach, lighting the interior to the point she couldn’t keep her own eyes open.
That was especially strange, since there hadn’t been a hint of it in the weather before, and it had never filtered into her breast before, making her heart feel like a caged animal, and her breath hard to find.
She didn’t even know where it had gone to.
Lisle rocked in place, worse than any coach movement could possibly make, and her head moved of its own accord, tilting the opposite way his was, making it easier for the kiss to deepen, and harder to find one part of her that didn’t want it to.
There was a groan coming from his chest, the sound filling her mouth and then the coach, and then it was accompanied by such a trembling of his entire frame, that she felt it and responded to it with everything that was maternal and loving and caring about her.
Then, he was pulling his lips from her with a vicious twist that felt like it tore skin.
Lisle didn’t dare open her eyes for several moments, and she felt none of the dizziness or blurred feeling of the past minutes that could just as easily have been hours.
She felt painfully sober and cold all over.
She opened her eyes.
He was inches from her, black eyelashes shadowing what she knew was the dark ale color of eyes, and with not one expression on his face. Damn him for being so handsome, she told herself, pulling her right hand free so she could mold it around his cheek and cup his chin with her palm.
Lisle’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t know why, or even where they came from, as his image distorted and then cleared, and he was still far too handsome. She also felt his pain, and wished she could help him with it, help mute some of it…and she didn’t know where that insane idea came from.
“Doona’ ever do that again,” he said softly, brutally, and with a note in his voice that spoke of absolute finality and nothing more.
Lisle’s heart stopped, and then decided it really would continue beating.
She didn’t know what had taken place, or why she’d done any of it, and he reacted like this?
Her hand started stinging where it was still touching him, and she lifted it away and let it drop.
Her left hand was still entwined with his, making it impossible to move it away as easily.
“I won’t be pitied by anyone. Highlander or not.”
“Pitied?” she whispered.
“You ken exactly what you did, and you also ken exactly why you did it,” he answered.
“Pitied?” she repeated. He thought she’d kissed him out of pity? What was wrong with the man that he’d get such an idea? And why was she fighting it? She didn’t dare think through what might be the true reason—that she’d lost her mind. It was better that he thought it pity.
“When we arrive at Monteith Castle, go to your room. Doona’ touch me again.”
She nodded and loosened her fingers, and then she was pulling them away from his. He didn’t help her, but he didn’t fight her, either. Lisle didn’t think she had feeling left in her left hand from the grip he’d had on it. She didn’t flex it to check. She didn’t move anything on her.
“You aren’t welcome in my bed,” he told her.
She gasped. “I’ve not said I wish to be there,” she answered.
“Good. Keep it that way.”
Lisle sucked in on an emotion that she instinctively knew would go beyond tears and turn into full-fledged sobs if she let any of it through.
There was no reason for any of it. She didn’t want to be in his bed!
Good Lord—that he would think such a thing!
She didn’t want any part of him. She only wished the place beneath the seed pearl beading of her bodice wasn’t such a painful lump that she nearly clasped her hands to it to stop it.
“Why did you wed with me? Why dinna’ you just buy up the land, like everywhere else?” she asked finally, wishing the words from existence almost before they left her lips.
“Remember how I spoke of hidden things?” he asked.
She nodded. She only wished she could move her gaze down, and not keep it linked with his like they were strung together with pieces of spun wool, or worse, jewelry wire.
“That’s good. That’s very good.”
He blinked slowly at the end of his words, releasing her, although nothing on her obeyed the newfound freedom. She was still gazing raptly at him when he opened his eyes and caught her at it.
“We haven’t much left of this ride,” he offered.
Lisle would have answered any of his words, if she had a voice left.
She was afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she opened it, so she didn’t.
She just sat there at the edge of her seat, looking into dark brown eyes and a handsome face, with perfect lips that were spewing unintelligible words at her, seemingly without end, and wondering how such a thing had transpired.
He was the Black Monteith. He was the enemy of all that was Scot, and detested by every Highlander with faith and integrity and honor, and little else, left to his name.
He was a spendthrift, a fool, and a coward.
He was her husband; the man she was supposed to give herself to…
and the man who had just told her she wasn’t welcome in his bed.
“I would appreciate it if you stay on your side of the coach, and allow me the other.”
She nodded.
“You agree?”
She nodded again.
“Then cease looking at me like that!”
Lisle turned her head away, and it wasn’t easy. She didn’t know what expression she’d been looking at him with. There weren’t any mirrors, and she’d die before she admitted any of it.
“And doona’ touch me when we arrive. I won’t allow it.”
She nodded again. The mahogany strips on the side of his coach were set in a slanted wood pattern. That probably added to the expense of it, for it had probably taken longer and cost more. She hadn’t noticed that before.
“You’re to go to your rooms, and stay there.”
“I doona’ know where they are,” she replied. All of it was ridiculous. It sounded like he was telling her to report to her prison and stay there; exactly like what had happened at the French school more times than not.
“They’re at the top of the right stair, next to mine. Doona’ bother checking the connecting door. I’ll make certain it’s locked.”
He had a connecting bedroom to hers, and he was going to make certain the door was locked.
What on earth for? Did she look like she was going to try to get through it, and attempt ravishment on a man who had just told her she was not welcome in his bed?
She was very grateful there weren’t any mirrors so she could have seen the look on her face that would have him thinking such a thing as locking his door was necessary.
And there wasn’t anything she liked about wine.