Chapter Twenty-one #3
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, lass,” he softly said, and all at once he was back inside her heart, as a hazy sensuous heat flared between them. “That’s the last thing I wanted to do. But we both need to forget about certain things we’ve done. There’s no future in it.”
“I have no regrets,” she told him. “I never will.”
He bowed his head and said nothing for a long while, and when he finally spoke his voice was firm with resolve.
“I must say something to you, lass, and I hope you will take it to heart.” He gazed at her directly.
“I believe the only reason I fire your passions is because you cannot remember anyone else in your life that you might have cared for in the past. You said it yourself. You’re alone, and you’re lonely.
So don’t make too much of what happened between us. ”
“I could say the same thing to you,” she replied. “That you only want me because you haven’t had a woman in three years, and you are perpetually … aroused.”
He inclined his head at her, as if to suggest it was a dangerous thing of which to remind him.
In a flash of movement he reached out and pulled her close. He crushed her body against his and wrapped his arms around her, keeping her warm as he feathered his lips across her cheek.
“You’re right,” he whispered in a low, seductive voice. “I’ve been aroused since the moment I met you, but I have not felt that way in a long, long time—because when you’re celibate long enough, you eventually begin to forget how it feels to even want it.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” she shakily replied, fighting against overpowering desires that left her trembling with need. “I don’t remember how I felt about my first time. It disturbs me greatly to think that I have lost that part of my life.”
He nuzzled her ear, and she knew in the depths of her soul that he understood her meaning.
“You don’t have to talk about it, lass.”
“I might want to someday.”
“If you do, I will listen.”
She snuggled closer to him, burrowing into the warmth of his body, the soft wool of his tartan, and the clean, musky scent of his skin.
There was nowhere on earth she would rather be than right there on that rock, with him, where she felt safe, protected, and cared for, even after he had told her to keep away.
Catherine lifted her face to look up at him. “Will you ride with me tomorrow?” she asked. “There is no reason why you shouldn’t. We’ll be on horseback. There will be no touching.”
His head dipped lower, and she could feel the curve of his smile when he spoke. “You say that while your hand is rubbing my chest and your sweet breath is beating upon my neck.”
“I can’t help it,” she replied with laughter. “I’m cold, and you are so warm. I need your heat.”
He gathered her closer, bracing both feet on the ground to keep them from sliding forward, supporting her legs across his lap. “Is that better?”
“Yes. I only wish we could stay like this forever.”
They sat together in the rolling fog, their breaths creating steam, while Catherine gloried in the sensation of his hand toying with the locks of hair at her temple, cupping the side of her face.
“We should go back,” he said after a while, brushing his lips across her forehead.
“Not yet. Please, just a few more minutes. This feels so good.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that, Catherine.”
She didn’t plan it or think about it consciously, but somehow her hand slid down his chest to his hard stomach, along the side of his hip, and lower still, across the front of his kilt.
He was fully erect, and she buried her face in his shoulder. All she wanted was to feel the shape of him, to know the contours of his body, but he quickly seized her wrist.
“Not a wise idea.”
She swallowed hard, frustrated by the sudden wall that came crashing down in front of her. “I didn’t mean to start anything.”
They stared at each other tensely in the wintry chill.
“It’s time to go now,” he gruffly said, rising to his feet. “I’ll take you back.”
Catherine slid off his lap while her blood pumped hotly through her veins, sending a rush of unfulfilled desire straight to her core. She felt light-headed and dizzy. It was a wonder she did not faint dead away at his feet. “Are you angry with me?”
He shook his head. “It was my fault.”
“No, it was mine.”
Again, like the night before, he escorted her away—to leave her in the care of others. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, of course, but it left her wanting so much more.
“Will you ride with me tomorrow?” she asked again when they reached the cave entrance.
He leaned very close—so close she felt the scratch of his whiskers on her cheek. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking of me.” He whistled at the others to indicate that it was time to leave the cave. “Out, now!” he shouted. “Lady Catherine needs her rest.”
But rest was not what she needed, and just before Lachlan turned away, he gave her a look that indicated he knew exactly what it was that she required.
And that particular thing … He needed it, too. Far worse than she did.