Debbie Mazzuca Bundle (18 page)

He cupped her face between his roughened palms. “Aye, I remember. I was angry, angrier than I’ve ever been before. Can you no’ understand what I felt?”

“What about me? I loved you. You’re marrying another woman and I have to let you go, and not because I want to, but because I have no choice. Those damn fairies didn’t give me a choice and neither did you.”

He kissed the tears from her cheeks. “I do love you, Aileanna, and I’m no’ marryin’ Moira. I willna’ go through with the betrothal, no’ now.”

“Don’t…don’t lie to me.
Lust isn’t love
—that’s what you said, didn’t you? I won’t come second to anyone, Rory, not even your dead wife. I deserve more.”

He gave her a slight shake. “Stop. Why will you no’ try to understand? Aye, I desire you as I never have another, including Brianna. But I do love you, Aileanna, more than I should. And I canna’ let you go. I willna’ let you go.” A hard edge crept into his deep voice.

His words penetrated the anger and the hurt. She searched his face. “Did you just say you aren’t marrying Moira?”

“Aye, ’tis what I said,” he growled.

She hesitated before she asked, “And you love me?” She lowered her eyes and her cheeks flushed. “As much as you loved your wife?” Her voice was whisper soft.

“The love I feel fer you is no’ the same as my love fer Brianna. How can it be when yer no’ the same woman? Canna’ you understand that?” He was angry now. She could hear it in his voice.

“Aye, I can.”

He blinked, then grinned. “I’ll make a Scot of you yet, mo chridhe.” His eyes darkened. “But now all I want is to make you mine.”

Rory’s low, gravelly voice, and the heated words he whispered against her ear, triggered a frisson of desire that left Ali weak and trembling. Heavy-lidded, passion-filled emerald eyes sought hers before he lowered his mouth. But the fierceness of his kiss brought with it the unwanted memories of the last time he had her at his mercy.

As though sensing her withdrawal, he drew back, his gaze searching. “What is it, mo chridhe?”

She shook her head and tangled her fingers in his thick black hair, forcing his mouth to hers in an attempt to push the memories aside, and the words he’d earlier tried to explain away.

“Nay, Aileanna, you will tell me what it is,” he said, refusing to let her coax him back to passion.

Ali’s hand fell to her side, and she lay back amongst the pillows. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she scanned the dimly lit room. “I keep thinking about the other night, and what you said to me. I—”

“I apologized, Aileanna, fer my words and actions.” Frustration laced Rory’s voice.

She swallowed hard and lifted her gaze to his. “I know, but I’m having a difficult time getting past it. I still don’t understand why you didn’t believe me.” Torn between the desire to be embraced by the heat of his powerful body and needing distance from it, she carefully rolled to her side.

“Mayhap because you had the flag in yer hands, and you didna’ tell me the truth.”

“And you know why.” The pillow muffled her voice.

“Aye.” He lifted the heavy fall of her hair and pressed a tender kiss to her neck. “I do. There’s no more I can say to you, Aileanna, other than I’m sorry. Mayhap ’tis too soon.” The thin strap of the shift slipped from her shoulder, and his hot mouth moved down the curve of her neck to taste her there. “I want you, mo chridhe, but I’ll wait.”

His body tight to hers, she could feel the evidence of his desire, big and hard, pressed to the back of her thigh. Her breath shuddered as he emblazoned a fiery path of kisses along her spine. The feel of his tongue dipping into the two dimples at the small of her back made her squirm.

The shift gaped wider, and the strap slid farther down her arm. With a practiced hand, he slipped his fingers beneath the thin fabric, trailing them along the curve of her waist to her hip. “Do you want me to stop?” His deep voice vibrated against her heated flesh.

Ali’s breathing quickened, desire unfurling in her belly. “Yes…no, don’t stop,” she whimpered as his long fingers tweaked her puckered nipple.

Rory gently rolled her to her back, amusement glinted in his green eyes, and his mouth lifted at the corner in a knowing grin. “Are you certain?” he asked as he lowered the flimsy material inch by torturous inch, exposing her breasts fully to his gaze. He devoured her with a heated look as he laved first one nipple and then the other. She arched her back, pressing her breasts to his lips, wanting him to suckle her deep into his hot, wet mouth.

His laugh was low and husky. “That brings back a memory of the first time you were in my bed, mo chridhe.”

Irritation penetrated the passion-filled haze that engulfed her. When she glared at him, he laughed harder. “If you were any kind of gentleman, Rory MacLeod, you wouldn’t remind me of that night, especially since you now know how it came about.”

“Aileanna, have I no’ told you I’m no gentleman when it comes to you. And I’m thinkin’ I should thank the fairies fer deliverin’ you to me naked.”

“That wasn’t the fairies’ doing, it was yours. You had my T-shirt off of me the minute I landed in your bed.” Heat tingled between her thighs at the memory, at the feel of him beside her.

“T-shirt? I doona’ ken what that is, but I ken I want you naked in my bed now.” Propping himself on an elbow, he skimmed his hand to the edge of her shift and slowly worked it over her hips, her breasts. She helped him as she had that first night, her arms trembling with eagerness as she raised them over her head. When she lay naked before him, he sucked in an appreciative breath.

Ali’s cheeks heated as his intense gaze raked over her, and she tugged at the sheets to cover herself.

He stopped her. “Nay, let me look at you.” He stroked his big, strong hand over her breasts to her belly, the heat of his palm searing her to her core, fanning her desire.

She had to see him—all of him—and ran her fingers along the front of his shirt. “It’s your turn now,” she murmured as she tugged at the laces, revealing his broad, powerfully muscled chest. Trailing a finger along the puckered line of his scar, she lowered her head and pressed her lips to the mark she’d left on him. The banded muscles of his stomach contracted beneath her gentle kiss.

“Aileanna,” he groaned as her fingers moved lower to the thick bulge in his pants. “Are you certain yer no’ too sore? What aboot yer foot?”

Concentrating on freeing him from the confines of his pants, she barely registered his concern. Only when he took her hand to press her palm to his lips did she look up. He drew away from her to sit on the edge of the bed.

She groaned in frustration. “What are you doing?”

Rory laughed as he tugged off his boots, dropping them to the floor. “I’m no’ leavin’ you, lass, of that you can be certain. I thought I might make a faster go of sheddin’ my clothes is all.” He stood, towering over her, the flickering flame of the candle accentuating the chiseled planes of his face. Rory looked terrifyingly big and powerful as he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it onto the trunk at the end of the bed.

Mesmerized, she watched as he peeled off his pants. He was huge and hard, and her experience was limited. It had been important for her to wait until the right man came along. She thought she had. There had been only Drew, but he was nothing compared to Rory. She regretted not having waited, because the only man who would ever be right for her stood before her now in all his rugged, naked glory.

Entranced by his beauty, Ali couldn’t pull her eyes away, not until she heard a low rumble of laughter. She lifted her gaze to his, and his emerald eyes gleamed with amusement. Ali grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Laughing, Rory caught the pillow, then lay down at her side, his amusement fading as he crushed her soft body to his. His cock, pressed to the curve of her belly, throbbed. He shuddered when her long, delicate fingers encircled him. “Careful, lass, or this willna’ last long.”

“No?” She smiled, sliding her hand along his shaft.

“Nay.” Rory could barely rasp the word out before he slanted his mouth over her soft pliant lips. He filled her mouth with his tongue. Teasing, tasting, he kissed her with a growing urgency. He struggled to hold back his need to take her, to claim her with one savage thrust.

Ali increased her rhythmic stroking of his cock, and he groaned, certain he would spill his seed like an untried lad if she continued. He stilled her hand, nudging her thighs apart with his knee. She whimpered. He raised his head, concerned by the soft, desperate sound. “Did I hurt you, Aileanna?”

Passion-glazed violet eyes focused on him. “No…no, I want…I need you to touch me.”

“You want me to touch you, mo chridhe, like this?” He stroked the silky curls at the juncture of her thighs.

She raised her hips. “Yes,” she moaned. “More.”

Her passionate response enflamed his desire. Aileanna was everything and more than he had imagined. He watched the play of emotions on her beautiful face as he stroked her moist core, dipping his fingers into her velvet heat, the desire to taste every glorious inch of her lithe body outweighed by his all-consuming need to be inside her, to make her his.

She writhed beneath him. “Rory, now, please,” she gasped.

Carefully he entered her, his restraint causing the muscles of his arms to quiver in protest as he held himself above her. Her eyes slid closed, her head tipped back, and soft moans of pleasure escaped her parted lips when he thrust inside. At the sound of her wanton cries his cock swelled even more. He filled her to the hilt, savoring the feel of her inner muscles tightening around him.

He moved inside her tight, wet sheath with slow, deep thrusts. The wanton look upon her face, her lush curves and puckered nipples rubbing against his chest, brought him to the edge of his control. No longer able to take it slow and easy like he wanted, he plunged in and out of her, hard and fast. Certain he could withstand it no longer, he reached between them and touched her swollen nub, stroking. She bucked beneath him, crying out at the same time he found his release and filled her with his seed.

Rory smothered her cries with his mouth, deepening the kiss as he rolled carefully to his side, shifting his weight from her body. His cock jerked inside her and he cupped her firm behind with his hands, pressing her against him to thrust one last time. “The next time we’ll take it slow, mo chridhe,” he murmured against her lips, brushing her tangled hair from her face. She snuggled into his chest, and nodded her assent. “I doona’ think I will ever get enough of you, Aileanna. You’ve bewitched me.” Something inside of him froze at the truth of the words that slipped unbidden past his lips.

Fear skirted the edge of his consciousness. The depth of emotion he felt for her was dangerous. He needed to temper his desire for her, control his love, or all would be lost. He would not allow himself to become consumed by her as his father had been by his mother, at the expense of all else. It would bring nothing but heartache, possibly death. And because of Aileanna, Rory had already put the clan at risk.

But he had told her the truth. There would be no union with the MacLeans. Thrust into his world through no fault of her own, Aileanna was now his responsibility. He owed her his life, and would marry her to make up for all she had lost.

“You might not want to say that too loud, Rory, or you’ll have that priest after me again.” Her throaty, contented laugh jerked him out of his unwelcome musings.

Absently he kissed the tip of her nose. “Nay, I’ll let no one harm you, Aileanna.” Sliding his cock from her heated clasp, he ignored the sense of loss when he pulled away from her. “’Tis time for you to rest.”

“Where are you going?” she murmured sleepily, reaching out to him when he rose from the bed.

“’Tis best if yer no’ found in my chambers come morn, at least until the betrothal is announced.”

Ali blinked. “What did you just say?” Her gaze focused on his face as she gathered the tangled sheets to her chest.

He glanced up as he pulled on his pants, addressing her as though she were a child. “The betrothal, Aileanna. Until ’tis announced, it would be best if you slept in yer own room.”

Ali’s heart thumped painfully against her rib cage. She clutched the sheets tighter. “Who…whose betrothal?”

Rory quirked a brow. He gave her a puzzled look, then tossed her the crumpled shift from the floor. “Ours. Did you no’ think I would marry you, after this?” He tipped his head toward the bed.

“No, since you didn’t ask and I didn’t say yes,” she sputtered, pulling the nightgown over her head with jerky movements. Her chest constricted with the painful realization that he only wanted to marry her because she’d slept with him. And he didn’t even have the decency to propose, tell her he loved her, get down on his knee and offer her a ring. Oh no, his lordship simply assumed she would be thrilled to marry him. That she would bow to his commands like everyone else. Angry tears clogged her throat.

“’Tis because of me you find yerself here, Aileanna. Yer my responsibility now, and I will do right by you.”

“Oh, I see. You feel responsible for me because the fairies sent me to save your life, and because you refuse to send me back you’ve decided you have to marry me. Does that about cover it?” The suffocating tightness swirled higher in her chest. Beyond hurt, she was devastated. He would marry her, but not because he loved her. Ali couldn’t bear to be just another responsibility to him, like everyone else in his clan. She wanted to be someone he could turn to in times of trouble, someone for him to lean on. She wanted all of him—heart, body, and soul.

“Aye,” he responded warily.

She flung back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. With a tight grip on the post, she awkwardly came to her feet.

Rory stepped in front of her, his brow creased with concern. “What has gotten into you, Aileanna? You seem angry, lass.”

“Angry? You think I’m angry?” She tried to shove him out of her way, but the man was built like his damn mountains and didn’t budge.

He crossed his arms over his bare chest, muscles rippling beneath his golden skin. “You will tell me what has you in such a temper.”

“You.” She poked the middle of his chest with her finger, blinking back tears. “I’m not marrying you, Rory MacLeod. Not now, not ever.”

He frowned. “I doona’ understand you, Aileanna. Mayhap yer tired and we should talk aboot this on the morrow.”

“No, there’s no need. I’ve made up my mind. I’m not marrying you.”

“Did you no’ tell me you loved me? Did we no’ just make love?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she ground out between clenched teeth. The pain in her foot was now as intense as the pain in her heart.

“I doona’ ken how things work in yer time, lass, but in mine, when a woman and a man make love, speak words of love, they wed.”

“Is that right? So the only person you ever made love to besides me was Brianna?” She’d heard all about his prowess with the ladies, whether she had wanted to or not. For some ridiculous reason his clansmen were as proud of their laird’s reputation in the bedroom as on the battlefield. The man was a legend.
Let’s see him talk himself out of this one,
she thought.

“’Tis no’ the point,” he grumbled. “I bedded you, I’ll wed you.”

Ali’s hand clenched into a fist, itching to strike the arrogant look from his face. “In my time, it doesn’t matter, so you’re off the hook. Marry Moira MacLean. I know you, Rory MacLeod. It’s killing you to give up on a union you think will save your clan. Just do it. I don’t have anything to offer you.”

He shuttered the emotion in his eyes, and Ali’s stomach lurched. She was right. He’d marry her, but at what cost? He’d resent her. She would be the reason there could be no alliance between the MacLeans and the MacLeods.