Chapter 14
Flora’s resistance was crumbling. Lachlan Maclean was nothing if not true to his word. Over the past few days since their return from the Faerie Pool, he seemed to have made it his mission to drive her mad with longing.
He took every opportunity to touch her, to stand too close, to whisper in her ear—his mouth achingly close, but never close enough.
And never far from her consciousness was the memory of what he’d done to her.
The passion that, once unleashed, wanted to run free.
He’d kissed her mouth, her breasts, her …
Heat crept up her cheeks just thinking about it.
She couldn’t believe he’d kissed her there, but neither could she forget the shattering sensation that followed.
Never had she felt such pleasure, until he’d thrust deep inside her—filling her—and started to move.
He held his experience over her, teasing her with the promise of what he could do to her. Hinting at pleasure she could only imagine, but which she wanted—badly. “On edge” didn’t begin to describe her state. She felt as if she were walking around ready to explode at any moment.
Her only salvation was the mornings she spent with Mary and Gilly at their lessons. Only then did he offer her a brief respite from his seductive attentions.
She sighed, knowing her temporary peace of mind was coming to an end.
Mary and Gilly had just left their makeshift schoolroom to dress for the midday meal, leaving Flora to finish tidying up.
The girls had readily accepted her apology for leaving without saying good-bye and seemed to have understood her attempt to leave without demanding the specifics.
She’d just slid one of the folios they’d been using—Songs and Sonnets, a collection that included works by the former Earl of Surrey and Sir Thomas Wyatt—back onto the shelf when a tanned muscular arm wrapped around her waist from behind.
She felt the subtle press of his hard body, the heat, and the impossible strength.
His fingers gripped her hips, pulling her closer—molding her body to his.
When he pressed behind her like this and nudged his hips, it made her wonder … was it possible? She shook off the image. What had he done to her?
Like a powerful magnet, he drew her in. His touch, his scent, the warmth of his breath on her neck.
The force of his presence shattered her resolve.
Awash in heat, she melted against him. Her body, which had been in constant deprivation for the past few days, felt aroused to the point of bursting—reveling in any opportunity for contact, no matter how brief.
He dug his face in her hair, nuzzling along her neck, his lips as soft as a feather along her skin until she shivered, but never giving her the friction she craved.
“Miss me?” he whispered near her ear.
The warmth of his breath tickled, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The dark, rich brogue was like molten lava that had seeped into her bones. But she heard the mockery and wanted to curse him, almost as much as she wanted to sink against him and beg him to take her again.
“N-no,” she answered, her voice shaking.
“Liar.” He let go of her, backing away. It took a few moments to compose herself and for her pulse to return to normal before she turned around to look at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you said you would be away this afternoon.” To give me time to recover from this morning’s teasing.
He quirked his brow, amused, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I am. I’m leaving right now. I just came by to remind you of our lesson tomorrow.”
How could she forget another swimming lesson? She smiled sweetly. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“So am I.”
She didn’t miss the naughty innuendo and bit back a giggle; she could well imagine what he had planned. But his plans would come to naught. “Oh, by the way,” she said offhandedly, “I’ve invited your sisters to come along.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Afraid of being alone with me, Flora?”
She straightened her back. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
He chuckled, knowing the lie for what it was. She was scared of being alone with him. Of what she might agree to if pushed. And he’d been pushing hard, very hard.
She lifted her gaze to his. “I just thought the girls might like a day away from the monotony of the castle. It will be fun.” She paused. “Perhaps Allan could go as well.” His eyes narrowed, guessing what she was up to. “You did promise to reconsider your decision about Mary.”
He gave her a long look. “I have.”
“And?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, lass, but my decision stands. The alliance with Ian MacDonald of Glengarry is too important.”
Flora didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. “I see.” But she didn’t. He still didn’t understand. Still didn’t see that his sister should have a choice. He saw only duty.
“And what about you, Flora? Have you reconsidered?”
“How can you speak of our marriage when your sister is so unhappy? You would force her to a marriage she doesn’t want.” She let the implication fall. She could never marry a man who had so little regard for his sister’s wishes. It was too similar to what had happened to her mother.
His gaze hardened almost imperceptibly, but she recognized the small changes in his expression that weeks ago would have seemed nothing.
“I am not forcing her. Mary understands that we all must make sacrifices for the good of the clan, why can’t you?”
But marriage shouldn’t be a sacrifice she should be asked to make. Flora knew he was right: Mary would go through with it out of some warped sense of duty. In that they were very different. “I would never marry a man in that situation.”
He tensed. “But this isn’t about you. It’s about Mary. This isn’t your fight, yet you’ve turned it into your personal crusade.”
Flora bristled. “You’re wrong. I only want to give Mary a chance at happiness. I thought you would understand.”
“I do understand, Flora. But my sister’s feelings are not the only issue.”
“But you said—”
“I did not promise to change my mind, only to reconsider. I did so.”
“But—”
“Do not try to manipulate me to your bidding, Flora.”
“Are you sure it is not the other way around?” she asked, referring to his seduction.
A strange expression crossed his face, and not for the first time she wondered if there was something else behind that look. She studied his face, wishing she could see through stone. “Why did you really bring me here?”
He hesitated. “To get my castle back from your brother.”
“And to marry me?”
His gaze flickered over her face. “It seemed a good idea.”
Her instincts flared. He was clearly choosing his words with care. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Many reasons.”
“Such as?”
Her persistence was getting to him, and his annoyance was evident in the flex of his jaw and the white lines around his mouth. “What would you like me to say, Flora? I know how you feel about your situation as a marriage prize.”
She lifted her chin. “The truth.” I can take it. I hope.
He held her gaze. “You are beautiful, rich, powerfully connected, and”—he gestured to the amulet—“a symbol to my people as an end to an eighty-year curse. I’d be a fool not to want to marry you.”
She flinched. She’d asked for the truth, and he’d given it to her. But why did it have to sting so much?
He must have sensed the pain his frank words caused, because in the next instant she was in his arms. “Just because I recognize your value as a potential bride doesn’t mean I can’t want you for myself.”
She heard it in his voice: He was telling the truth. Her eyes flickered across his face, looking for signs, anything that would point her in the right direction. “And there is no other reason?”
Why did she always have to push him? Couldn’t she just leave well enough alone?
It was the question Lachlan didn’t want to answer. If there was ever a time to tell her the truth, this was it.
He felt as if he were being torn in opposite directions, forced to choose between two undesirable ends.
He could tell Flora about his bargain with Argyll and risk his brother and clan if she refused him, or lie and tell her there was no other reason he wanted to marry her in the hope that it would impress her enough to accept his suit.
He knew she was wavering—warring with desire and her fear of being used like her mother.
If he told her, it would only confirm those fears.
He could guess how she would react. He was using her—for honorable ends—but using her nonetheless.
And now that he knew her, he understood what that would do to her.
She cared for him, of that he was certain; but would it be enough to forgive his manipulation? For that was how she would see it.
Who was he fooling? Any choice he had was illusory.
He needed Argyll’s help, and he must do what was necessary to get it.
He might be able to retake his castle by siege or subterfuge, but at what cost?
He’d lost too many men already, and the fighting would only further infuriate a king who wanted an end to feuding.
But then there was his brother, imprisoned at Blackness Castle—the king’s impenetrable stronghold.
He’d never be able to secure his brother’s release from Blackness without Argyll’s influence, and attempting to break him out by force would be a suicide mission.
If only there were another way. Any attempt to free John would have to be undertaken with cunning and trickery, and thus far, Lachlan had been unable to think of a suitable plan—one that would not unduly risk more men.
He also realized that if he told her about his bargain with her cousin, he could very well lose her. And that was something he couldn’t risk. Once his brother was safe, he swore he would explain everything.
It was an untenable situation, one that he wanted to end.