Chapter 9 #2
tight fist. His eyes blazed for a moment before he said quietly,
“Your question is not worthy of a reply.”
Lindsey felt her temper growing. With her
hands on her hips she taunted, “What must it feel like to be so
perfect?”
He ignored her taunt and turned away. As he
began to walk she followed, feeling her anger begin to spill over.
“Why can you not admit that you may be wrong?”
He spun around so quickly she nearly collided
with him. Before she could take a step back he caught her roughly
by the arms and dragged her even closer. “Woman,” he snarled, his
eyes narrowed in anger, “you sorely try my patience.”
“Patience?” She tossed her head, as if to
defy him. “I have seen no trace of this virtue you claim, my
lord.”
“Nor will you, if you continue on this
dangerous course you have set.”
For a moment his hands tightened on her arms
and she felt a tiny thread of fear course along her spine. For long
minutes he stared into her eyes. She refused to blink or look away.
Abruptly he released her and turned on his heel.
Lindsey had no idea what drove her to behave
in such a foolish manner. But now that her temper had been aroused,
she seemed unable to back away. Once again she flounced behind him,
her biting words mocking him.
“I see that you do not intend to admit that
you could be wrong. Is this why some men claim the Heartless
MacDonald is never defeated? He merely insists that his way is the
right way?”
She saw his hands clench at his sides as he
continued on his way. Her words had obviously found their mark.
Flushed with victory she stalked him as they passed through a stand
of trees that blocked the light of the moon and stars. “So. The
mighty warrior now is reduced to threatening women if they dare to
vex him. Is this how you earned your name?”
“Damn you, woman.”
She did not even see him as he spun around
and caught her arms in a painful grasp. His breath was hot against
her cheek.
“I am sick to death of that name.”
“It suits you. The Heartless MacDonald.”
His voice was a low whisper of fury as he
took both her hands and pressed them to his chest. She felt the
sudden jolt and tried to pull away, but he held her fast.
“Can you feel the pounding of my heart?”
Her voice was little more than a strangled
whisper. “Aye. I can.”
“Is it less a heart than that of other
men?”
She swallowed. “Nay.”
“Then you admit I am not heartless, my
lady?”
Her palms were damp where they touched his
chest. His mat of hair was soft and springy against her flesh. Aye,
he was far from heartless. His heartbeat was every bit as
thunderous as hers.
When she did not reply, he ran his thumbs
across her palms, splaying her fingers wide across his ribs.
His voice was still rough with barely
controlled anger. “It is a heart that bleeds, my lady.” His voice
lowered. “And yearns often for that which it can never have.”
She stared into eyes that were shrouded in
mystery. The intense anger in him was evident. But there were
deeper, darker passions that he seemed loath to reveal. Passions
that terrified her, yet intrigued her.
She saw his gaze center on her mouth as his
hands slowly moved along her arms. When she attempted to pull away,
his strong fingers closed over her upper arms, holding her firmly
against him.
“What is it you fear, my lady? Did you not,
after all, come out here to spar with me? Where are your taunts and
arguments now?”
She ran a tongue over her lips. He watched
the movement through narrowed eyes.
“I—came out here to—persuade you to join our
company when your tasks were completed.”
A hint of a smile touched his lips. “That is
all you wanted?”
He was laughing at her. Her fear of him
dissolved as her temper took over. “Aye. But I can see that I have
made a blunder. You are much more suited to being alone.”
As she tried to push away his fingers
tightened on her upper arms, causing her to gasp.
“Aye. I have been alone too long. Perhaps
that is why even an angry wildcat can tempt me.”
Wildcat. The gibe hit its mark. “I am not
some wild creature. Nor did I come here to tempt you.”
“Nay. You prefer to goad me into a fight. But
fighting with women has never whetted my appetite.” He drew her
fractionally closer and his tone deepened. “Women were made to be
kissed.”
He lowered his had until his lips barely
brushed hers. He felt her flinch and thrilled to his first
victory.
Against her lips he murmured, “Slowly and
thoroughly and with great care.”
With her palms against his chest she pushed
with all her might, but she was no match for his strength and
determination.
His arms came around her, pinning her to the
length of him. His mouth closed over hers in a hot, hungry
kiss.
Splinters of fire and ice danced along
Lindsey’s spine. She trembled as a chill swept her. She was cold.
So cold. Of their own volition her hands crept along his chest,
pressed over his heart. And then, as he lingered over her lips, the
chill became a wave of heat and she was hot. Liquid heat poured
through her, filling her veins with molten fire. She gave a little
moan as her hands gripped his shoulders. And as he took the kiss
deeper, she was forced to hold on, lest her legs fail to support
her.
She felt his strong hands press into her
lower back, drawing her close against him. Heat seemed to pour from
his naked torso, heating her, tormenting her.
Against her lips he muttered, “What? Have you
no words left to hurl, my lady?”
She moaned as his lips left hers to roam the
curve of her cheek, the arch of her brow. He pressed his mouth to a
tangle of hair at her temple and could feel the furious beating of
her pulse.
He had meant only to silence her voice, to
still the taunts that fueled his anger. But from the first moment
his lips covered hers, he was lost. Reason fled. And in its place
was a burning, desperate need.
He had known passion before. And desire. But
never before had he known such wild, pulsing needs. He was driven
to take her higher, then higher still, even though he sensed that
she had never dealt with such emotions before. He wanted more than
to silence her. He wanted her weak and clinging. His lips moved
slowly over her face, feeling her breath straining in her lungs.
His lips found hers, and this time she offered no resistance. Aye.
This was how he wanted her. Warm and willing. But as he took the
kiss deeper, he wanted more. He wanted all.
He wanted her naked and desperate. As
desperate as he. He wanted to take all she had to give. To drain
her; to fill her. To make her his.
Lindsey trembled in his arms and struggled
with feelings she had never known. Always before she had been
afraid. Afraid of a man’s touch, his kiss. Until this moment, she
had always fought and won. But with this man, the wish to fight had
suddenly left her. In its place was a need to taste him, to touch
him, to feel him, until she was desperate to crawl inside his skin.
What had this man done to her? How had he bewitched her that she
had surrendered with hardly a whimper?
Dazed, Jamie struggled to clear his mind. He
knew he had taken her too far. But his mind was befuddled. Her
words, her taunts had blinded him to all reason.
He kissed her again, tasting the wild, sweet
taste that was like no other woman. He wanted her. God in heaven,
he wanted to take her here, now.
The forest closed around them, enveloping
them in a cocoon of velvet darkness. The only sounds were the
rippling waters of the stream, the call of the night birds and the
occasional laughter from the distant campfire. Even the stars in
the heavens were curtained off by the towering spires of evergreen.
They were alone, and no one would ever be the wiser.
Jamie knew he would have to be strong enough
to walk away. And still he lingered, wanting one more taste, one
more kiss.
When at last he lifted his lips from hers,
Lindsey stood very still, fighting the tremors that rocked her.
Very deliberately Jamie took a step back,
then another. The need for her still pulsed. The desire to take her
still tugged at him.
“Consider this a warning, my lady. It would
seem I have found the ideal way to silence your taunts.”
“It is as I already knew, Jamie MacDonald.”
She turned away and prayed she would not stumble. “You have
revealed yourself as the bully I thought you to be.”
On trembling legs she made her way to camp.
As she rolled herself into her cloak, she struggled with a rush of
troubling feelings. How had she gone from battle to surrender in
the blink of an eye? What magic did this man use?
Under the cover of darkness Jamie pulled on
his shirt and tunic and thought about what had happened. Damn the
woman. How was he going to continue avoiding her, when the need for
her was becoming an obsession?