Chapter 4 #2
God in heaven…how could he resist that. The answer was…
he couldn’t. So he didn’t. Lachlan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
Her mouth was warm—softer than he had imagined, and that was saying something, considering how thoroughly he had imagined it.
For a moment he lost all sense. The castle, the corridors, Rosebery’s damned letter—everything blurred until there was only the press of her lips and the faint catch of her breath as she yielded, not with reluctance, but with a quiet boldness that made his blood turn to fire.
He told himself he would be gentle. He told himself he would taste, then retreat.
He told himself a dozen sensible lies. None of them survived the way her fingers found his sleeve, clutching as if she might steady herself there—or keep him close.
Lachlan lifted his head a fraction, just enough to look at her.
Horatia’s lashes fluttered. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth slightly parted, and for the first time since he’d dragged her from the storm, she did not look resigned.
She looked passionate. The sight punched through him with a force that startled him.
He wanted her—aye—but he wanted more than her body.
He wanted to be the one who put that color in her cheeks and that light in her eyes.
He wanted to be the reason she forgot to brace for the world’s cruelty.
That, more than lust, terrified him. “Horatia,” he said hoarsely, as if her name were a confession.
She did not step away. She did not scold him for impropriety. Instead, she held his gaze with that maddening composure, as though she had decided something and dared him to contradict it. “If this is a mistake,” she said softly, “tell me now.”
Lachlan’s jaw tightened. Mistake. Was it?
He thought of Rosebery’s letter—cold, indifferent, calculating. He thought of a wedding proceeding without the bride. He thought of Horatia’s passion… He could not deny the truth any more than he could deny his next breath.
“It is a mistake,” he said, voice rough. “A foolish one.”
Her brows drew together. “And yet you are still here. Still holding me.”
“Aye,” he murmured. “Because I canna make myself let ye go.”
Horatia’s gaze dropped to his mouth, and something in his restraint snapped again.
He kissed her once more—slower this time, deliberate.
He wanted to taste her desire. Lachlan wanted to brand her as his so no other would ever compare.
Her lips moved with his, tentative at first, then more certain, as if she were learning the shape of pleasure and discovering she had always been capable of it.
A soft sound escaped her, and it went straight through him, hot and sharp.
Lachlan broke away before he went to far.
He rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard, his hands braced at her waist as though she were the only solid thing in the world.
He still planned to seduce her but the gardens were not the place for such things.
Not when they had a perfectly good bedchamber in his castle to use.
“Ye shouldna’ tempt me like that,” he whispered.
“I did not realize you were so easily tempted,” she murmured back, and there was the faintest thread of amusement in it—amusement, as though she were not shaken by what they had just done or perhaps she was, and she refused to show it.
Lachlan let out a short laugh that held no humor. “Lass, I’ve wanted ye since the moment ye looked at me with those damned brave eyes and pretended ye were not afraid.”
Horatia stilled. The teasing expression faded, replaced by something more vulnerable. “Honestly,” she said. “A part of me is always afraid.”
His hands tightened at her waist. “Of me?”
“No,” she said. Her gaze lifted, steady again. “I am afraid of the unknown. I don’t like surprises.” She smiled. “But you,” she explained. “You are the best surprise. One I never dreamed could happen.”
She might come to hate him once she realized his deception, but it might be too late for either of them when that came to light. Because she was right. She was more than he could ever have dreamed of too. That scared him a little. Soon he would seduce her though. He felt compelled to now.
Lachlan drew back enough to study her properly.
She was beautiful and soon she would be his in every way.
He would claim her. Make her his in truth.
But not just with his body. She would carry his name and be his forever—even if he had to trick her into that union.
“Let’s go back inside lass. I doona wish ye to catch a chill. ”
Horatia didn’t argue with him. She allowed him to escort her back inside.
The entire time he plotted what he would do next.
He could not allow Rosebery to have her.
She was far to important to him. That should frighten him how she had come to mean so much to him so fast, but he wouldn’t think to heavily upon it.
Sometimes fate worked in a person’s favor, and who was he to deny where fate had led him…