And the Bride Wore Plaid (22 page)

“Hm. Would you care to put that statement to a test?”

Her wariness grew. “What kind of test?”

“We try a kiss while you are thinking ...” He lowered his mouth to her cheek and whispered, “And a kiss while you are not.”

Her skin was not the creamy white of most debutantes, but a luminous pink. He brushed his fingertips along the line of her cheek. “Sometimes, thoughts can stop us from experiencing the moment we’re in. They can block feeling, emotion, energy, even pleasure.”

“All by thinking?”

“All by thinking.”

“I’m surprised anyone bothers to think at all, then,” she said in a slightly acid tone, though her lashes fluttered on her cheeks.

He smiled. If he merely listened to her words, he’d quit this seduction now, before it had really begun. But though she stoutly refused to give in to his verbal blandishments, she was not immune to him physically. If he could just show her that they were meant to touch, meant to be together. Not forever of course, but for this moment. “Well? Care to test your theory?”

She shrugged. “I suppose we might as well. We can’t leave until this rain quits.” She leaned back against his arm. “Go ahead, kiss me.”

He started to lower his mouth to hers, but then stopped. “Is this the thinking kiss or the nonthinking kiss?”

“I am not going to tell you. I don’t want you using any tricks to win your point.”

“Very well. But you have to be honest with me about which kiss was which.”

“You’ll trust me?”

“With my soul.”

Her face pinkened.

He didn’t give her time to think that through. He tipped her face to him and kissed her. He put into the kiss all his longings, all his desires. Everything.

She was limp in his arms when he finished. The blanket had slipped and she was panting heavily, drawing his gaze once again to her nearly visible breasts.

“Ready for the next one?”

She held out a hand. “No. I’ve already proven my point. That was the thinking kiss and I was reciting the names of all the kings and queens of Scotland all the while. I never made it past the twelfth century.” She pressed a hand to her throat. “Thinking most definitely does not interfere with feeling.”

He had to laugh. “I think you need the next kiss, too. Just to make certain.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he could see she was wavering. “Just one more kiss.” He bent toward her, his lips a whisper away.

“I can’t,” she gasped, pulling away. “No more, please.” She looked at him, her green eyes sparkling with sudden tears. “I beg of you,” she whispered. “No more.”

Devon loosened his hold. “Kat, I don’t understand—”

She shook her head, the gesture dislodging a tear. It fell from her eye and clung to her cheek. “I—I am not a fool, you know. I can see what you’re doing. You are trying to seduce me.”

He pursed his lips. “Yes, I am. That is what happens when there is an attraction, such as the one we have.”

“I know. I am no innocent.”

He chuckled. “I would beg to differ.”

“Devon, I am no innocent.” This time she said the words firmly.

“Ah,” he said, realizing what she meant.

A grimace of anguish passed over her face. “I have made mistakes.”

“We all have, sweet,” Devon said. He wanted this woman. Wanted her more than any other woman he’d ever known. The problem was that if he succeeded in seducing her, he might damage the part of her he admired the most—her spirit.

Devon was not selfish. Not intentionally, anyway. And he knew from the conversations they’d had that Kat was not a woman given to sadness or histrionics. That fact made the tear in her eye mean all the more.

He sighed, rubbing his neck. His desire was subsiding, but only slightly. He wanted Kat in his bed, but not at the cost of her pride. “In no way do I wish to harm you.”

A bitter smile touched her lips. “I’ve heard that before.”

“But not from me. When I tell you something, I mean it. And I expect you to do the same for me.”

Kat swallowed the lump of emotion that threatened to close her throat. Devon’s black hair fell over his brow, his blue eyes never left her face. He’d discarded his jacket, and his black breeches hugged his narrow hips and outlined his muscular thighs. Her gaze traveled over him to where his throat was exposed. His cravat was undone and hung loosely about his neck, his shirt untied. A faint edge of chest hair showed in the opening, and she was assailed with the desire to touch it, to thread her fingers through it and feel the crispness of the tight black curls. God, but he was beautiful. Beautiful and ... listening to her. Asking her what she thought, what she needed.

In that instant, she knew why he was different from Stephen. Stephen had swept her off her feet with smooth words and urgent hands. And she, feeling gauche and ugly after being paraded through cold receiving room after cold receiving room, had lapped it up like a starved cat.

Devon had the same passion as Stephen, but Devon had something more. Perhaps it was patience. Perhaps it was caring. Whatever it was, it had him sitting beside her, his arm offering warmth and nothing more, his head bent attentively, his eyes on hers.

In all the times she and Stephen had met, never once did she remember him looking at her with such a serious expression, or waiting to hear what she thought about anything. She wondered that she’d never before realized that.

Funny how one’s expectations at seventeen were so very small. Then, years later, those same expectations transformed into a list of required virtues so long that she sometimes feared the man she wanted to meet did not exist.

She didn’t want just passion, though that was part of it. She also wanted someone to talk to, someone who would listen, someone who would laugh with her and share himself the same way she wanted to share herself.

Devon reached across the space between them and drew his finger down her cheek. The touch left a trail of delicate fire that lit a heated pathway down her neck to her breast and beyond.

“What do you want, Kat? Because whatever it is, so long as it is not marriage, I will give it to you.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Why do you hate the thought of marriage so much?”

His humor faded. “Because...” A shadow crossed his eyes. “I have a confession to make. It is not a pretty one, and you may never again wish to speak to me.”

She waited, unwilling even to speculate on what he might say.

“Kat, as much as I wish it was otherwise, I cannot seem to remain ... enamored of a woman for more than two months.”

“
Two
months?”

He winced. “It sounds bad even to my own ears, so I cannot imagine how horrid it sounds to yours. I cannot help it; I grow bored after a short time, so I know I can never marry. I will not make a promise I know I cannot keep.”

Kat nodded. “That is how it should be. You are very honorable.”

His lips twisted. “Kat, I will not pretend I am not attracted to you—I am and you know it. And I will not pretend I do not wish for a more physical relationship than we have now. Honestly, I would give up Thunder just to spend one hour in a bed with you and nothing between us but tangled sheets and the dampness of our own bodies.”

A delicious shiver tremored through her. He was so delectable, his gaze so blue, so intense. Better yet, honesty shone through him. For an instant, she thought she could see the truth shimmering over him like a light.

He raked a hand through his wet hair again, and she saw that his hand trembled the slightest bit.

“This is foolish,” he said with a rueful smile. “I am ruining my chances with you, but I refuse to be less than truthful.” He took her hand. “Kat, I don’t know what happened in Edinburgh, but—”

“You should know.”

“No. That is not necessary—”

“It is, too.” She met his gaze directly, gathering courage. “If we are to continue this ... relationship, brief though it may be, I will not have any secrets.”

He hesitated, then sighed. “If you want to tell me, then do so.”

She took a breath, her hands fisting at her sides. “I have thought this through a hundred times until I think I finally understand what I was doing and why. I was not raised at the castle like Malcolm. Our father really had little to do with my mother once I was born.”

“He neglected her?”

“He made sure we didn’t go hungry and that we had enough to survive. But sometimes whole months would go by and we’d never see him.”

“That is sad.”

“It was hard for us both,” she agreed, “mainly because we knew he lived such a short distance away. It was especially difficult for Mama because she was the one he really rejected. I think he was always sorry he’d met her. At least, that was the impression he left us with.”

Kat spoke simply, without pain. But Devon had an idea what even that gesture had cost her. “I see,” he said, unable to think of anything better to add. He wondered if he should take her in his arms, but her next words forestalled him.

“It doesn’t hurt so much now. Once Father died, I got Malcolm.” Her face softened. “I have never regretted that trade.”

“Malcolm knew of your existence?”

“He overheard his mother telling one of the stewards that my mother and I were to be ejected from the cottage. He was only twelve, but he stepped in and demanded that we be left alone. I think he’d seen us and had guessed the truth. We have never discussed it.”

Devon smiled. “Malcolm’s stubbornness is as legendary as my determination.”

She returned his smile, her eyes warming slightly. “Determination or stubbornness? Aren’t they the same?”

“I like to use the word ‘determination’ when applied to myself, and ‘stubbornness’ when applied to others.”

He was rewarded with a quiet chuckle that made his heart ache.

“It is a flaw we three share, then,” she said. “Anyway, after Malcolm knew of our existence, he came almost every day. His mother tried to stop him, but he ignored her and ... he became my brother. Whatever I needed, he has been there for me. I am ever conscious of his kindness, which makes it difficult to say him nay.”

“He can be persuasive.”

“Indeed. When I turned sixteen, my mother died. Malcolm wished me to live at Kilkairn. Against my better judgment, I did so.”

“Thus the blue room.”

“Thus the blue room,” she agreed. “He offered me one of the larger rooms, but I was uncomfortable. Besides, his mother resented me enough.”

“I begin to dislike Malcolm’s mother.”

“Och now,” Kat said softly, her voice gently chiding. “I reminded her of a time between herself and her husband that she wished gone. I cannot blame her for that.”

“I suppose not,” he said, unconvinced. “Did you like living at Kilkairn?”

“No. For so long, I had been on the outside of the castle. I thought being on the inside would be magical. But it wasn’t. I felt lost, and I think Malcolm sensed that. He decided I needed more companionship, that I should be ‘launched’ on society as if I belonged.”

“As if?”

“I was illegitimate, and everyone knew it. I had no money other than the dowry Malcolm was willing to settle on me. And—” She shrugged. “I am not a beauty. I never have been. But Malcolm was determined that I go. He coerced his mother to sponsor me, and for once she and I were in agreement; I didn’t want to go any more than she wanted to take me. But Malcolm won the day and we went.”

“It sounds as if the conditions were perfect for a disaster.”

“It was horrid. And it got worse before it was over. I believe Lady Strathmore was sincere in her attempts to dress me well and show me about, but I did not take.”

“I am sorry.”

“So am I. Every event was painful and punishing. And the clothes she chose ... now that I know more about color and texture, I can see her mistakes and mine.”

Devon shook his head. “Men have it so much easier.”

“Indeed they do. By the second week of arriving in Edinburgh, I was miserable. Meanwhile, Malcolm had met Fiona and he was gone a good deal, wooing her. I was left with Lady Strathmore and that... that was when I met Stephen.”

“A rakehell of the first water, I take it.”

“Worse. A rakehell of the worst water. He was unacceptable in almost every household, a fact I thought grossly unfair.”

“Ah, words of the young.”

“Words of the foolish. He was glib, and he spoke to me.” A faint color touched her cheeks. “I’m afraid that was all it took. I eventually thought I was in love and I agreed ... I-I absconded with him.”

“You eloped?”

“So I thought. But apparently even that was too much for Stephen. It turned out later than he never intended to marry me, but merely wished to cause a scandal so that Malcolm would be forced to buy his silence.” Her cheeks were deep pink.

Devon had to swallow a bitter lump of anger for the long-absent Stephen before he could speak. “We all make mistakes.”

“Most people do not embarrass their entire family with their errors,” she replied sharply. “I was foolish enough to let practiced words muddle my thinking.”

“Which is why you wish to think rather than feel. You believe it will keep you from making a similar error.”

“Aye.” She met Devon’s gaze steadily. “You should know I was with Stephen for two weeks before Malcolm caught up with us. And here is where I am supposed to assure you that I am untouched. But...” Her lips thinned. “I cannot say that. I thought I loved him.”

“Many things are done in the name of love.”

“And many things undone. I believed his assurances that he wanted to marry me and that he would do so as soon as Malcolm gave his approval. But of course Stephen never asked for Malcolm’s approval. Instead he asked for a thousand pounds to return me home and to keep his silence.”

Devon had never been so angry in all his life. Never. “This bloody Stephen, wherever he is, deserves to be horsewhipped.” B’God, if anyone had dared treat his sister the way the nefarious Stephen had treated Kat, Devon would have beaten the bastard into a bloody pulp. And then, for emphasis, all his brothers would take their turns. “If I cannot horsewhip him, then I would at least see him drawn and quartered. That might serve to punish the bastard.”

“I fear you will have to dig a hole to do that; he died two years later. I heard that he drank himself to death, though I was never certain.”