Chapter 3 #2
He was back before her, wrenching her to her feet by the very hand that attempted to hold her gown in place.
His gaze fell upon her breast. She felt the flush of heat that rushed into her face.
His eyes swiftly fell up and down the length of her, and a wry smile curved into his lips.
His grip around her wrist tightened. The tone of his voice did not change.
“Did you not hear me, lass? Why did that fellow chase you? What new treachery has sprung up here in my absence? Who was the man?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she snapped back. Who was he indeed? What was going on? How could she begin to care or think or reason when David was here. Holding her in so merciless a grip.
She forced herself to stare into his eyes and reply heatedly, “You should have asked him.”
“I would have enjoyed doing so, but I’m afraid it was his life or my own.
We had no time for conversation before I was forced to make his acquaintance through my sword.
Pray tell, my lady, just where are your kin?
Your great-uncles and cousins? What are they up to these days?
Could one of them have now decided that you should have joined me in the coffin those many years ago? ”
“How dare you—” Shawna began furiously, but he gave her a hard shake that silenced her, and his green stare sliced into her with the commanding power of a steel blade.
“I dare because you attempted my murder, my lady. The question here is, how dare you?”
She shivered, the fire within him seemed to burn so hotly.
What words could she say? How could she cry out that she did not know the truth, that she had suffered like the damned herself when the night had turned from blaze to ashes?
His fingers, clenched around her wrist, just brushed the tender flesh of her breast, and she longed to shriek out in protest of the disturbingly sensual touch.
One that he did not even seem to notice.
She had to fight for breath to speak. To moisten her lips in order to form words with them.
“I never attempted to kill you,” she said.
Yet his eyes condemned her. She thought that there was nothing she could say that would change him.
Still, she tried.
“I tell you, David, I never attempted to murder you, I never wanted you dead—”
“Really? Someone did. And you were the one who lured me to the stables that night.”
There was, she realized quickly, no forgiveness within him. Had he brought her back here to make sure she was well aware of who was dealing a deathblow to her when he fell upon her?
“Talk to me, Shawna!” he demanded, his fingers biting into her flesh.
She could no longer bear his nearness, his casual, intimate touch.
She drew her fists up between them, slamming down hard against his chest. Talk to him?
She’d been trying to talk to him. The truth meant nothing to him.
He refused to accept it. “Go to hell, Laird Douglas! You’ve judged me already.
I’ve nothing more to say.” She slammed her hands against his chest again with all the force she could muster, managing to force him back a step.
She instantly saw her small reprieve and knew she had but little chance to quickly make the best of it.
She spun around, determined to make a mad dash for the door.
She barely moved a step before he caught her upper arm. She was spun roughly back to face him. To meet the glittering green fury in his eyes.
“You might well have been dead now yourself if I had not come from the water! Do you deny that some conspiracy exists here?”
“I cannot deny evil exists in the world! Or that there are evil men who might wish to steal from us, who might assault a woman in that quest. Now, let me go—”
“It may well be your own family.”
“It might well have been some wretched beast who has come along with you as your henchman—”
“I fought the man.”
“So you say.”
“Ah, and you say your family would never harm you.”
“You are harming me!” With her cry, she again tried to escape his hold, shoulders straightening against the force of his hands upon her.
She tried to pull back, elude him. His fingers slipped from her arms and fell fully upon her breasts, hard calloused palms against her nipples.
She shrieked out, amazed at how very desperate she was to avoid his touch.
Caught in the menace of sheer sensation, she wildly pummeled his chest, then desperately raised a hand to strike his face.
He caught her wrist before any blow could fall.
“Stop!” he commanded her.
“Nay—”
She had the sensation of flying as he lifted her up and tossed her down. There was nothing but air beneath her before she landed upon her back again on the great ancient Douglas bed.
With him over her once again, pinning her there. She gasped, staring up at him furiously, fighting both her fear of the hard man he had become and an even more frightening fear of the emotion that was riding within her.
Her shoulders were bare. Her breasts nearly so.
Another move and she’d be half-naked. She struggled to maintain some semblance of dignity in her current position, flat upon her back.
She tried not to think of how terribly vulnerable she was or of how she felt with his bare thighs pressing against her hips.
She didn’t want to wonder if his anger was so great he would rape her.
Most of all, she didn’t want to acknowledge the fire within her own body, created by his very nearness.
She didn’t want to remember the way that he could make her feel.
The touch of his fingers against her flesh when he’d had tender feelings for her…
“Shawna!”
No tenderness. Just steel. Merciless.
Lord God, she had to moisten her lips again. He touched her. Touched her in far too many ways.
She lifted her chin, met his eyes. “No one within Clan MacGinnis would ever wish me harm, Laird Douglas. You had best take that to heart. I’ve uncles and cousins living within these walls.”
“Oh, I am well aware of that. Clan MacGinnis certainly had no difficulty moving right in.”
“Your father had no heart for this place, your brother no interest! By tradition, responsibility for your holdings fell to the MacGinnises, and we assumed responsibility at your father’s request and with his blessing! From this residence, it is far easier to—”
“Rule?” he mocked.
“You are a liar if you say that you are surprised to find the MacGinnises here. Castle Rock has always been the point of protection and administration in Craig Rock. We do not rule, we administer!”
“So, you and your clan administrators have made my castle your home. Indeed, MacGinnises do rule here.” There was a curious twist to his voice.
Aye, he had expected to find the MacGinnises within Castle Rock.
He was bitter. He was suspicious. And very aware he was outnumbered by her family. He did not seem to care.
“Yet you’ve come here—challenging me!”
His eyes focused on her again in a way that sent shivers racing through her. “I’ve business to settle.”
“Then—”
“With you. First. Then, of course, there is the matter of your clan. Those who have taken over my life.”
“Be that as it may. You have been—dead. Gone. We have cared for the place. My kin live within these walls now. David, nothing was taken from anyone. Your family chose America.”
“After my ‘death.’ But I think that you and your kin have failed to remember one fact. While one Douglas draws breath, this is Douglas land.”
She had never forgotten that. Nor had she ever coveted Douglas property in any way. She’d spent the past five years in pain and confusion, wishing that she could go back, wishing that she could do anything to bring David back to life.
Well, he was here.
Unforgiving. Menacing. Threatening.
“You, my lady,” he reminded her, in a surprisingly soft, husky tone, “have taken over my very bed.”
“I’ve still only to shout, and my kin will come to slay you here and now for daring to so much as threaten me in the intimacy of—she broke off, stuttering suddenly—“these chambers where I sleep.”
He arched a brow. “You’re referring to my chambers, right? We must never forget the obvious—that you’ve chosen to take up residence in my chambers. Will your kin have the gall to slay me in my own castle, within my own room?”
“It matters not where. You’re threatening me! My kin could easily slay a man for less.”
“I can well imagine they might want me dead in truth at last,” he said dryly. “Especially considering the fact that you and your kin are all so very well positioned in my house, you, dear lass, I must again point out clearly, within my very bed.”
“If you’ll let me up, I’ll no longer be in it!”
“Umm…I think not. Not at this moment. Indeed, it seems you have been happy enough to be here in the past.”
“The care of the castle was left to the MacGinnis clan by your father, proper laird.”
“The proper laird—who had no heart for his own ancestral home once his son had died so violent a death within it!”
“You’ve come back in violence, assaulting me—”
“I—a dead man. What harm can a ghost do?”
“Since you are dead no longer, pay heed to my warning. If you do harm to me, my kin will kill you!”
“I’m quite difficult to kill. Surely you realize that now.”
The way that he looked at her made her afraid.
Afraid of what he would do to her. Afraid as well of what she might want him to do…
“Get up and away, Laird Douglas. One shout will bring them to me.”
He did not move. For the first time, it appeared that he was capable of smiling, even if only in a mocking manner.
“Have you gone quite daft? What is the matter with you?” she demanded. “Move, man!”
“Umm…I think not.”
“You don’t understand—”
“No, you don’t understand. I carried you to where you now lie.
Although there are other means of entry—as we are both well aware—I walked through the gates, the great doors, up the stairs, and to this room, awakening no one.
I think you’d have to shout quite a bit to raise any assistance.
And you know full well I’ll never allow you to shout for very long. ”
“One of my kin will challenge you tomorrow!” she threatened.
“Then one of your kin will die tomorrow, Lady MacGinnis, and I will not blink an eye in remorse.”
The deadly cold menace in his words frightened her.
“Leave me be,” she told him earnestly. “Reclaim your inheritance, and the MacGinnis clan will naturally leave the care of the property to you. Leave me be, and the room reverts to you, Laird Douglas.” She hesitated, then told him passionately, “I had nothing to do with what happened to you!”
“On the contrary,” he said quite softly, “you had everything to do with what happened to me.” He touched her cheek lightly with his knuckles.
For a long moment, she could not look away from the power of his eyes.
Then she realized just how thoroughly he blamed her, how very suspicious he was, and perhaps, even, that he had a right to blame her for the events that had occurred.
“I lured you, yes!” she whispered passionately, vehemently. “That and no more. Aye! We meant to search through your rooms, the office. We needed time—”
“Which you would get plenty of—once I was dead,” he said dryly.
No matter what she said, she realized, he wasn’t going to believe her.
“But you’re not dead!” she reminded him.
“No.”
“So, you sit here and accuse me of attempted murder while you live! You have lived elsewhere. You have left us to believe that you died cruelly. How dare you! It is your place, Laird Douglas, to beg my pardon, and explain where you have been all this time!”