A Woman Made for Pleasure (40 page)

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Authors: Michele Sinclair

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BOOK: A Woman Made for Pleasure
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Caireoch Castle, 1316
 
He was caught.
And not just in any trap. It was one that held no escape.
That he had not seen the blatant plot as it gradually ensnared him was humiliating enough, but that he was a
McTiernay
caught by a
Schellden
would be cause for derision he would suffer for several years—if not decades.
Craig’s heated blue gaze darted to the curvaceous figure across from him. Far from apologetic, two large hazel eyes glared at him, finding no joy in the situation. Instead, the dark green depths flickered with accusations as the melted gold surrounding them shined with fury. Meriel correctly believed herself to be just as caught as he.
Looking at her lightly clasped hands and slightly arched eyebrow, she appeared to be in a seemingly composed state. Most of the crowd surrounding them no doubt believed Meriel indifferent to their situation, for Laird Schellden’s daughter had always been a difficult person to read. People’s attention was usually focused on her twin sister—who never left a question in anyone’s mind as to her emotional state. It was just one of a myriad of characteristics that proved that while they looked alike, their personalities certainly were not.
Meriel exhibited a limited number of emotions, but that did not mean those were the only ones she felt. She was a master at hiding her thoughts behind a facade of naïveté borne from genuine sweetness and reserve, but Craig McTiernay knew exactly what angry thoughts his best friend was thinking. In her mind,
he
was the dolt behind their current predicament.
She had just warned him to be careful less than two days ago, but it was when everyone was preparing for the feast and visiting neighbors were creating chaos in the household. While most of the Schellden clan had given up trying to prove the feelings Craig and Meriel had for each another went far beyond that of friendship, a select few had not. Craig knew Meriel had been correct, but never had he dreamed that his sisters-in-law would resort to such subterfuge to support their false beliefs.
Needing to look his accusers in the eyes, Craig turned his head slightly to the left and glared at the two women standing at the Great Hall’s head table. Raelynd was practically beaming with satisfaction. At least his brother Crevan, who was standing next to her, had the decency to look somewhat apologetic about his wife’s obvious handiwork. Laurel’s expression on the other hand was more reserved, but he knew she was involved. Too much finesse had been required to ensnare him and Meriel so publicly.
For years, the sword dance had been a commonly held event at celebrations, but the simple dance had turned into something of a unique rivalry for the Schellden and McTiernay clans. Craig remembered the night the fun pastime evolved into a game of endurance. The music had started and several of both clans’ finest soldiers pounded the floor, deftly hopping between the quarters made by crossed broadswords, to the quick beat of the music. By the end of the lively song, only one McTiernay and one Schellden remained and both had refused to stop. After that night, the sword dance continued until someone was proclaimed the champion.
That was until Craig’s eldest brother married Laurel.
One year she actually challenged the men, stating that Highland women played the game of endurance every day with cooking, cleaning, and raising their young. And that night, the tradition evolved once again. Now the battle was between men and women. A custom that made its way to the Schellden clan after last year, when Raelynd and Meriel spent several weeks visiting the McTiernay home.
So tonight, when Craig entered the Schellden Great Hall after successfully winning a game of horseshoes, he was not surprised to see the broadswords being laid out and eagerly joined the large number of people participating. Having been part of the humiliation created by Laurel’s first and surprisingly successful attempt at the dance, Craig had vowed never to be outlasted by a woman again. And he hadn’t. When the song ended, he was always among the few men who were still on their feet.
Tonight, however, the goal had changed slightly, unbeknownst to him.
“Just do it already,” Meriel hissed, recapturing his attention. She had somehow moved to be right in front of him. She was far from short, but she still had to crane her neck to look at him when standing this close. “And make it good, so that when it doesn’t work it will end all questions tonight and forever.”
Craig’s eyes widened at the notion for he had originally planned to give her just a quick brotherly peck. But Meriel’s idea was a rather brilliant one. And what could it hurt? It was not as if they really
did
like each other and feared the emotional sparks a genuine kiss might cause. They were just friends! Sure, he had thought about it over the past year. Slim and delicate-looking, Meriel was exceptionally beautiful. But he had always known that the moment their relationship became anything more, the things he cherished the most—the qualities that made her so important to him—would be in jeopardy.
Besides, desire was not prompting their current dilemma. Maybe he wasn’t caught in a trap. Perhaps he and Meriel had just been handed an opportunity to finally put persistent rumors to rest. Besides, he had heard from more than one source that Meriel, while not free with her body, was an
excellent
kisser. As her best friend, it was time he found out.
Meriel had felt her jaw drop when she heard her sister Raelynd announce that the last woman and man standing would be rewarded with a kiss—
from each other
. Now that she was married, Raelynd had a penchant for seeing love everywhere. Their father, who had indulged them as children, continued to allow her sister’s whims today.
Meriel
knew
she should have deserted the dance right then, but she had still believed Craig to be in the courtyard playing horseshoes. Besides, it had been some time since she had been kissed and the idea of possibly meeting someone new to pass the time with was appealing. That was until she saw both women and men drop out, feigning exhaustion, at an alarming rate. The reason why dawned on her just as the second-to-last woman ended her supposed attempt. Meriel halted immediately, but it was too late. She was already the last woman standing.
Her eyes scanned the few men still competing and spotted Craig near the back, smiling at the crowd—and clueless.
Mentally she implored him to look her way so that she could give him a hint to stop and thereby prevent her sister’s attempt at matchmaking. But to no avail. Everyone else in the room was practically staring in her direction, but Craig? No. He was too busy applauding himself for his stamina. Only when the song ended and people clapped him on his back with congratulations, explaining once again the nature of tonight’s sword dance, did his expression reflect one of true understanding.
Meriel watched as he briefly studied her and then shifted his gaze to the real culprit—her sister. However, Meriel suspected that Laurel might also have been involved. Raelynd was capable of an idea such as this, but its execution? That needed a more experienced hand. Only Lady McTiernay could imperceptibly move throughout tonight’s crowd, giving instructions without Meriel or Craig wising up that
something
was being planned.
And now she was stuck, being forced to do the one thing she had promised herself
never
to do—kiss her best friend. Oh, she could refuse, but in her sister’s and most of the clans’ minds it would only prove that Craig and she
did
feel something more for each other than they claimed. And it would be not just difficult, but near impossible to change their minds again. No, they were destined to kiss this evening, but fate in the form of her meddlesome sister had not dictated what kind. Would the crowd see a sweet, brief touch upon the lips? Or something that would shock all?
Having decided a few years ago that while marriage was not something she was interested in, for many reasons, Meriel was not about to periodically forsake the pleasant diversions men offered. She knew Craig to be of a similar opinion about marriage, but because he was tall, dark-haired, and had bright blue eyes that sparkled with enormous charm, she also suspected that the rumors of his experience with the ladies were based more on fact than fiction. It was therefore not an unnatural leap to assume he was a good kisser. Besides, she had entered tonight’s competition with a certain goal and, as the winner, she was entitled to a kiss. Fortunately for her, Craig understood her cryptic message and seemed to agree.
What she wanted was some passion, something to remind her that she was a woman, and an attractive one. She should have realized the moment Craig’s fingers buried themselves in the softness of her hair, that no number of encounters she had had with other men had prepared her for what was about to happen.
True to her request that he embrace her in a way that would end all rumors, Craig pulled her close and then twirled her in his arms so that she was practically lying in his hands, depending solely on his strength to keep her from falling. Determined to be just as dramatic in her pursuit to end speculation about them, Meriel let her arms steal around his neck and returned the embrace with a surge of exasperation and enthusiasm.
His tongue began to trace her lips and instinctively she opened her mouth to welcome him in, glad to realize she had been right—Craig
was
a good kisser. A
very
good one.
He invaded the sweet, vulnerable warmth behind her lips with an intimate aggression that seared her senses. Her fingers clenched his shoulders, and then one of them groaned. While Meriel would have sworn it was Craig, her body was starting to respond as if it had a mind of its own. She felt as if she were melting, hot clay in his hands as they slid slowly up her spine while his mouth drank heavily from her lips.
And then, just as suddenly as the sensual onslaught began, it changed. Craig’s voracious mouth became tender, inquisitive, almost reverent. One hand moved to cup her cheek as he kissed her long and soft and deep. The gentle embrace, if possible, was even more consuming and passionate, as his teeth lightly bit at her bottom lip before capturing her tongue and drawing it into his own mouth. It wrenched her soul.
Meriel could only clutch at him, overwhelmed and aroused and unable to understand what was happening. This was
Craig
. Her friend, her
best
friend, but he was kissing her with a low, inviting passion that took her breath away. It was getting harder and harder to remember that the sparks igniting between them were part of an act to end the baseless suspicion people had of their mutual attraction.
She reminded herself that she had received many kisses, but in most of those circumstances she had been the aggressor. It had been natural, as the men too often became timid the moment they realized they were alone with Laird Schellden’s daughter. But this was different. Craig was dictating the speed and intensity of their kiss and all she could do, all she
wanted
to do, was get closer to him and follow his lead.
Returning his bold strokes inside her mouth, Meriel knew she should signal to end the embrace, but she could not muster the will to stop the passionate assault upon her senses. At least not yet. Until now, she had not known what was missing, but this—being with Craig, touching, kissing—for the first time it felt
right
.
The hot, tantalizing kiss suffused her body with an aching need for more. With a soft, low groan, Craig increased the urgency, and their embrace became darker, more demanding, and far more blatantly erotic. No longer could she pretend she was enjoying a pleasurable activity with a friend. This was something far more meaningful. Meriel was sharing a piece of herself, as he was with her, proved by the mutual ripple of need running through them.
Suddenly she was back on her feet and the cool air on her lips shocked her into remembering that they were not alone but in the midst of a crowd. A crowd buzzing with half whispers.
“Now all in this room
must
agree that the kiss you just witnessed would ignite a spark of passion—
if there was one
,” Craig’s voice boomed, capturing her attention. He stretched his arms out wide and grinned infectiously, winning over the stunned mass. Then, with a pompous show of male superiority, he threw one arm over her shoulders and hugged Meriel against him. “And that, good women and lads, should end all doubt about what Meriel and I are to each other. We are
friends
and nothing more.”
Feeling physically trapped, Meriel elbowed his side and gave him a forceful, angry shove. Craig immediately let her go and playfully doubled over in an exaggerated bow. The throng of people surrounding them laughed and began to return to whatever they had been doing before the sword dance had been called. Only then did Meriel realize Craig’s overbearing actions had been designed to elicit such a violent response from her. She was the one who had made his speech believable. A woman in love typically did not assault the man who had just kissed her with incredible tenderness and passion.
Unable to keep her eyes from following him, Meriel watched as Craig casually sauntered away from her, laughing and romping across the floor with his fellow soldiers as they headed toward the hall’s exit. Meriel should have been filled with relief. Didn’t her reaction prove that she was
not
in love with Craig? Didn’t his?

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