Chapter 16
William paced restlessly around the small chamber, his gaze continuously straying to the hour candle. Not yet midnight. Drake sprawled on the bed watching William with a knowing smile, a goblet of wine in his hand. Deidra slept at the foot of the bed.
“Why don’t you go to sleep?” William asked irritably.
“I’m not tired.” When William shot him a narrow gaze, Drake added, “I thought I might visit that bonny scullery maid—”
“Nay, you must stay here tonight.”
Drake propped himself up on an elbow, black brows raised. “Really? Why? Do you mean to say that you won’t be here? Have you an assignation?”
“It’s not an assignation…not really.”
“Then what is it?” William did not respond, so Drake pressed, “Is your ‘not really an assignation’ with Rose?”
William went to the window and stared out at the moon. “I should not go.”
“Jesus God. Aye, you should! Go! I pray you.”
William glowered at his brother for a moment over his shoulder before returning his attention to the open window.
He shouldn’t go. He knew what would happen, and it was wrong.
She might not marry MacPherson, but she would eventually marry someone.
He couldn’t ruin her. But God, did he want to.
He would go to her but to tell her that they should not.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his lids with thumb and forefinger.
An unlikelier scenario he could not imagine.
If he went to her chambers, he would bed her.
Behind him he heard Drake leave the bed. “She told me she could heal, just like you.”
“Aye, I thought she could. But the woman is dead.”
“Why then was she so ill? It’s just like you.”
William shrugged. “I know. It makes little sense.”
“Perhaps she just needs more tutelage. You’re the only one who can teach her—but you can’t do that at Strathwick unless she’s there, too.”
William gritted his teeth. “I’ve told you—”
“Aye, you have, but that was before, and though I didn’t like it, at least I understood it. There’s no sense to this. She’s like you, Will…it’s as if the two of you were somehow meant to meet and be together.”
William turned to give his brother a mocking look. “How very sentimental of you.”
“I know!” Drake drained his wine goblet. “You’re making me soft, so I pray you, stop being an ass and go to the woman. You’ve been in a foul humor since MacPherson arrived. You say you can’t have her but you won’t leave her be—and worse, you act like a baited bear, growling at everyone.”
William grunted. “I haven’t been growling.”
Drake made a rude noise. “Aye, you have, and I’m damn sick of it. Go to her. There’s two of you now—no more choices, aye?”
Wasn’t that what she’d said to him? There is no need for choices anymore.
There’s two of us now. Though her words gave him hope, Tira was still dead, and that scared the hell out of him.
But he found, as he stared out the window, that returning to Strathwick and resuming his empty life frightened him more.
“If I lose her…like Amber…I don’t think I can bear it.” His jaw hardened. He stared down at his hand fisted on the stone sill. “I love her.”
“If you love her, you have to go.”
William glanced back at the hour candle. It was time. Drake looked at the candle, too, then back at William expectantly. “Go, man—get out of here!”
William left, trying to ignore his brother’s gloating. He paused outside the door. The corridor was deserted, and most of the torches had been extinguished. He passed no one on his way, and when he finally arrived, he did not waste time knocking. He let himself in and latched the door behind him.
He scanned the room. Rose was nowhere in sight, though a small terrier sat in the middle of the bed, a pink ribbon in its long, silvery hair. Then he saw her. She appeared in the doorway of an adjoining room.
“You came,” she said.
“Aye.” His blood quickened just to look at her. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, a gleaming curtain of auburn satin. She wore only a night rail, elaborately embroidered at the neck and hem, the sleeves heavy with lace.
At the sight of her, all the things he’d wanted to say dissolved into lust. Later, he would remember, but for now…He crossed the room to where she stood. The fragrance of herbs wafted around her, coming from the dark room behind her.
Rose had been afraid he wouldn’t come, but now that he was here, she could not think of what to do or say. She’d been so bold on the stairs, when it had just been an idea. The reality of his presence in her room held her immobile. She gazed up into his eyes, her throat tight with anticipation.
Then he touched her hair, his fingers twining in it, pushing it over her shoulder.
“Do you know why I’m here?”
She nodded.
His gaze burned through her, made her knees weak. “I don’t think you do. I’m here because I didn’t have any other choice.”
She blinked up at him. “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want.”
“It’s not about wanting anymore. Before, I was afraid of having to choose…but it’s out of my hands now. I choose you.”
What was he saying? She was afraid to ask.
Her hands came up, curling into the snowy linen of his shirt.
She whispered his name, pulling him down to kiss her.
His mouth met hers in a searing kiss that deepened immediately, his tongue exploring, then demanding.
He tasted rich and forbidding. Instant fire raced across her senses, leaving her breathless with want.
She twined her arms around his neck, savoring his mouth, eager to finish what they’d begun on the battlements.
He pressed her back, but there was nothing there but the open door.
They stumbled backward, into the dark and fragrant room.
The small of her back bumped into the table.
His hands slid to her waist and lifted her, setting her on the table.
Rose carelessly pushed her instruments and books aside, and some of them fell to the ground.
“That’s better,” he said, his voice rough as he moved between her welcoming thighs.
He was so warm and big. She pulled him into her, hooking her calf behind his leg as he set his mouth on hers again.
Her heart beat thick and painful, her body alive everywhere he touched her.
She felt faint from his mouth, kissing and kissing her until all will and thought dissipated into sweet sensation.
He touched her through her shift, his palms sliding sensuously over ribs and breasts before fumbling with the ties and finally ripping them.
The shift slipped from her shoulders. She pulled at the ties on his shirt until he shrugged out of it and his chest was bared to her.
She brushed the warm curve of muscle and smooth skin with her fingertips.
He made a soft, rough sound and drove her head back in another kiss, long and hot, as he pressed himself hard between her thighs.
He pushed her night rail up, stroking her thighs, so all that separated them was the wool of his trews, sparking a melting, urgent pain at her center.
Her breath caught and her hips rolled hard into him, wanting more.
He murmured her name as he rained fervent kisses over her eyes and nose and cheeks.
His hands roved over the bare skin of her shoulders and back.
She shuddered against him, trying to press closer, to reclaim his mouth on hers, but he’d moved lower, licking and sucking at her neck as his hands slid around to her breasts.
Her head fell back, her hands threading through his hair as the tip of his tongue played with her nipple.
Her breath hitched, the heat swirling through her, urgent now.
She pressed his head closer. He complied with her silent request and drew deep on her nipple.
Pleasure speared to her core. She arched into him with a breathless cry.
He lavished more attention on her breasts, until she moaned her need, her hands working at his belt until it fell to the floor with a thump.
He caught her wrists when she tried to unlace his trews.
Thwarted at her task, she gazed up at him hungrily.
His eyes blazed his desire. So why did he stop her?
She pulled her hand away and stroked her palm against the hard bulge.
He groaned and pressed his forehead against hers, his hands gripping her shoulders.
“Not here,” he said. His hands spanned her waist to lift her off the table.
“Aye, right here,” she whispered, and when she pulled at the ties again, he let her, his chest straining, sweat gleaming on the hard, tense muscles of his shoulders.
It was perfect here, a longed-for moment with the man she loved, imprinted forever in this dark, fragrant room, surrounded by the comforting scents of bittersweet and mallow, horehound and lavender.
She rubbed her hand over him until his body shuddered and he made a raw, wordless sound in his chest. His mouth sought hers again, hands sliding beneath her shift, touching the damp curls between her thighs.
She jerked at the sudden contact, the bliss of it nearly blinding her.
His wicked fingers stroked and probed until she thought she’d die from the desperate throbbing.
Her breath came in little pants. She wanted him inside her.
She pressed her palm hard against his erection and he grew wild, pulling her hard against his chest. Rose’s thighs gripped him as she moved her hips against him, urging him to take her, to fill her, to complete her.
The head of him pushed against her damp curls and her breath caught, exquisite need spiraling through her, the promise of sweet oblivion, and she wanted more.
She moved again so the tip of him pressed against her entrance.
But he held back, the muscles all along his arms and shoulders bunched with strain.
“God, Rose…”