Captured by the Highlander (17 page)

* * *

The
following
day they stopped by a river to water the horse and eat a light lunch.

“Are you going to talk to me at
all
?” Amelia asked when Duncan sat down on a low boulder across from her.

“Nay.”

“Not even if I get down on my knees and beg?”

He shoved a piece of bread at her. “Do you want me to stuff a gag in your mouth?”

“No.”

“Then don’t be saying things like that.”

* * *

They made camp in the forest that night, and Amelia was surprised when, after supper, Duncan lay down on the bed of fur next to her—for he had kept his distance the night before and had treated her with hostility through most of the day. “What happens next?” she asked, hoping that tonight would be different. She had not enjoyed the tension between them, or the loneliness she felt, knowing he did not even wish to talk to her. “We’ve been traveling for two days. When
will
we reach Moncrieffe? Surely we must be close.”

He covered her with his tartan and looked at her grimly.

“Aye, lassie. This very ground belongs to the earl. We’re an hour north of the gatehouse.”

She leaned up on an elbow. The tartan
fell
away from her shoulder. “A mere hour? Then why have we stopped? We could be there by now.”

His eyes were dark and indecipherable. “I wanted one more night with you, lass.”

She took a moment to comprehend the meaning behind those words and thought again about how silent and brooding he had been
all
day. She had thought it was because he resented her for the things she said about Richard the other night and was surprised that he would
stall
the ultimate achievement of his victory.

“But you told me that you would never let me hold you back from
killing
Richard,” she said, “or distract you from it.”

“Aye, and I resent you very much right now, so be careful what you say. I’m
ill
-tempered.”

She
swall
owed uneasily. “I do not understand.” He resented her, but he wanted another night with her?

Then suddenly her imagination was running riot and she was permitting herself to wonder if she might be able to sway him from his goal after
all
—that perhaps a
small
sliver of affection for her could become more important to him than the bloodshed he craved. Perhaps he might give it
all
up for the sake of her happiness. He was risking a great deal, after
all
, camping here for one more night, when Richard might be heading in the other direction at this very moment.

But then she understood, more realistical
l
y, that it was not an affection for her that had slowed their progress but a simple physical lust. She remembered how he had watched her throughout the day, and shivered with apprehension—a fear of something inevitable, something she might not be able to control or prevent.

“Make no mistake about it,” he said. “I want my vengeance, and justice, too. Nothing can stand in the way of it. But when I achieve it, you
’ll
not be able to look at me, lass.

You
’ll
see only the brutal savage that I am.”

She felt a lump of dread rise up in her. Of course she wanted to reach Moncrieffe and return to her comfortable, civilized world, but the horrors of what Duncan felt
compelled
to do before he could release her did not bear thinking of.

She did not want to imagine him committing an act of murder.

“I want this to end,” she said. “I don’t wish to be your captive. But must you real y do it? Can you not have your vengeance another way? Report Richard to the authorities.

Write a letter and demand an official inquiry.”

Duncan chuckled bitterly at the suggestion, then reached up and pushed her hair away from her face. “I’ve enjoyed your company, lassie, and I
’ll
miss you when you’re gone.”

Why would he not see reason?

He slid his arm around her waist and
pulled
her closer.

“I’ve been aching for you
all
day, and try as I might, I can do nothing to slake my lust. I’ve never felt more savage than I do when I am lying next to you.”

Shocked by his confession and flushed by the heat that was simmering inside her body, she
pulled
back and stared at him. But before she could utter a word, his mouth col
l
ided with hers, and he
rolled
over on top of her.

A breeze swished through the leafy treetops, and Amelia arched her back wantonly. The desire to hold him and be held by him was powerful, and her head began to swim. He cupped her breast and massaged it, and she gasped helplessly. She wanted the passion and intimacy, but at the same time she wanted to fight against it.

His tongue swept into her mouth; then he lifted her skirts, slid them up to her waist, and caressed her thighs.
all
that stood between them now was her split drawers, which he soon
penetrated with skill
ful, probing fingers. She felt his whole palm slide between her legs, then stroke and knead her sensitive damp flesh. The pleasure became a kind of insistent ache, and she pressed her legs together, squeezing them around his hand.

“I’m just touching you, lass,” he whispered against her lips, and she quivered with delight, even when she knew it would lead to so much more. This was seduction. He was luring her to a very dangerous place.

Her legs parted readily when he used the heel of his hand to pleasure her. Sensations rushed forward, and she
thrilled
at his touch. He tasted her with his tongue, then rose up on his arms and mounted her.

Her rational mind was
telling
her to put a stop to this, but her body refused to listen. Legs spread wide, she felt the silky tip of his erection, pressing against her. Everything was hot and wet, and she did not want it to end, even when she knew it was wrong.

“I want to take you now,” he said, “but you must be
will
ing.”

Her chest was heaving. She hesitated to respond.

“If you do not want to part with your virginity, you must say so now.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t want to stop, but I always believed I would save myself for my husband.”

Duncan gazed down at her in the firelight, then drew back and rested his forehead on her shoulder. He seemed to be taking some time to bring his desires under control.

“I
’ll
not ruin you,” he softly said, “but I can
still
give you pleasure.”

She did not understand what he meant.
all
she could do was watch him inch downward on the fur and disappear under her skirts. She gasped in shock as he kissed her ankles, her knees, her inner thighs, then pushed her legs wide apart and plunged hard with his mouth and tongue into the folds of her womanhood.

She arched her back and sucked in a breath, reeling in a blind and mindless haze of rapture. “What are you doing to me?”

He offered no explanation, however, for his lips were very busy.

She soon forgot the question anyway, as she listened to the sounds he made with his mouth. Was this normal? Was this what
all
men and women did, or just the Scots?

Overcome by passion, she threw her head back and cried out. Her body began to quiver and shake, her muscles tensed, and a hot wave of fire splashed over her. She writhed like a trapped animal on the fur and pounded her fists on the ground. Pleasure like no other consumed her, even while she fought to resist it; then
all
her strength poured away.

After a time, he backed out from under her skirts and covered her body with his own. He held her close, and she felt strangely loved and protected. She didn’t want to let go of him. She wanted to be held like this forever. She had never felt so close to anyone.

“What was that?” she asked, knowing that her emotions were not, at present, rational.

“I told you, we Scots like to pleasure our women.” He
pulled
her skirts down to cover her legs. “But you should sleep now, lass.”

She stared up at the sky, feeling as if she were in some kind of drunken stupor.

“I enjoyed it,” she confessed.

“I know.”

“But I should not have
all
owed it to happen. It was too much.”

For a long time he said nothing. He simply looked up at the shadowy treetops against the night sky.

Then at last he spoke. “Aye, it was. And I should not have
all
owed it to happen, either.”

They said nothing more to each other that night.

* * *

Duncan had not slept soundly in months, and feeling completely rested the
following
morning was a foreign, unrecognizable thing. He woke to the perfume of the pines, the sound of
swall
ows chirping in the treetops, and the pink glow of the sunrise beyond the forest, casting a pale light on his eyelids.

Yawning, he stretched his arms over his head, then remembered, with a sudden stab of discontent, what would occur on this day. He would ride with Amelia to the castle and perhaps find Richard Bennett there, enjoying the many luxuries Moncrieffe had to offer.

Duncan’s immediate reaction to the idea of Bennett being served at the castle made him want to go there straightaway, grab the dirty maggot by the throat, and toss him over the castle
wall
s. But first he would drive a sword through Bennett’s heart and remind him why he was dying:
Do you
remember the girl in the orchard? This is for her. And it’s for
the woman you thought you might have for a wife. She’ll
never suffer what Muira did.

Duncan sat up and looked around. Amelia was not beside him, however, nor was she within view of the camp.

Instantly alert, he rose to his feet and shouted, “Amelia!”

No answer came, nor was there any sign of another person within sight or earshot.

He surveyed the silent forest. Hazy beams of sunlight shone through the trees, casting long shadows on the ground. The new day seemed to be creeping up on him, moving surreptitiously along the mossy floor of the wood.

“Amelia!” he shouted a second time, striding forward more insistently into the mist, but his
call
returned only as an echo.

No, she wouldn’t have.
…

But yes, he knew that she had. “Fookin’
hell
.”

Within minutes, he had saddled Turner, packed up the camp, and was shoving his axe into the saddle scabbard. He swung himself up onto Turner’s back.

“Yah!” Duncan shouted, urging Turner into a gal op toward the edge of the forest, then to the southern fields beyond.

What time had she fled the camp? Duncan wondered anxiously. Had she reached the castle yet? And what if Bennett was there and had already issued orders to hunt down the infamous Butcher, who was in the immediate vicinity? Duncan might not even reach the castle gates before he was overtaken by enemy soldiers, and then what would he do?

Damn her. Damn her straight to
hell
. He should never have taken her from Fort
William
, because now the only thing he cared about was getting her back. He didn’t care if Richard Bennett lived or died—only that he would never touch Amelia again.

In light of the current circumstances, Duncan could see only one way to accomplish
all
of those things. He kicked in his heels and rode hard toward Moncrieffe.

After an initial ordeal of terror and imprisonment,
followed
by a confusing and overpowering lust for her captor, that particular morning was the worst.

Amelia had woken up in a state of emotional turmoil. She took one look at Duncan asleep on the bed of fur—the most handsome man she ever laid eyes on—and realized she had to get away from him, because she had
fall
en hopelessly, passionately, foolishly in love.

Now she was stumbling across a field, weak and disoriented. Her shoes were wet from the dew in the grass, her toes numb from the
chill
. She was exhausted and breathless, for she’d been running
frantically
for almost an hour—first through the forest, then across these wide,
rolling
fields. She had no idea where she was; she had only the sunrise to guide her in any direction. She could be lost in the middle of nowhere for
all
she knew, for it was entirely possible that the castle was not located perfectly south of where they had camped the night before, even though Duncan had said they were north of it. She could have inadvertently passed it by and might in due course end up on the shores of the Irish Sea.

Surely he must have discovered her absence by now and begun his pursuit. He could come
galloping
across the fields at any moment and bring a swift end to her escape. If he found her, he would be furious. It would not be so pleasant between them after that. There would be no more kissing and caressing. He would likely tie her up and gag her from that moment on.

But it would not be so very different, she supposed, from the bonds of his sexual power, which had enslaved her in a mad, irrational desire and almost kept her from running this morning when she final y had the chance to escape.

She stopped and looked around, glanced up at the sun to try to ascertain her location and bearings. If she was going to survive this ordeal and return to the life she once knew, she would have to stop thinking about Duncan and set her sights on locating the castle.