Read Highland Surrender Online
Authors: Dawn Halliday
Highland Surrender (25 page)
Cam paused in indecision. She had clearly not wished to be seen, and he didn’t want to invade her privacy. Should he go after her? If he did, it was likely to cause both of them some measure of embarrassment.
But hell. He couldn’t allow her to slip and fall to her death. He stepped forward from the shelter of the tree, determined to assure her safety, when the sound of footsteps drew him back into the shadows.
Another figure emerged from around the corner of the stables. A shaft of moonlight glowed over the man’s features, revealing Robert MacLean. He strode to the cliff ’s edge and paused, momentarily appearing undecided. Then he dropped to his haunches and slipped after Elizabeth.
Cam’s chest tightened. As crazy and unbelievable as it sounded, the truth slapped him in the face. There was only one way to interpret what he’d just seen.
His betrothed and his stable master had planned an assignation.
CHAPTER TWELVE
R
ob descended to the beach and turned toward the small impression of earth. Elizabeth stood there, her back pressed against the smooth rock wall, her face hidden in shadow.
ob descended to the beach and turned toward the small impression of earth. Elizabeth stood there, her back pressed against the smooth rock wall, her face hidden in shadow.
“Go away,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
For the briefest of seconds, he hesitated. When he spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. “I want you. You know I do.”
She shook her head.
“I cannot betray my brother. Cam—”
“What does it matter? He has no idea you’re his brother. He certainly doesn’t treat you like a brother. You’re naught but a servant to him.” Her shoulders shook. “Just go away.”
The tension in his body was so tight, Rob feared moving. If he moved, he might snap. This woman . . . this
English
woman . . . He’d never seen anything like her. She was utterly fragile. She’d been broken over and over, but somehow she’d picked up the pieces and continued on. He didn’t want to be the one to break her yet again.
English
woman . . . He’d never seen anything like her. She was utterly fragile. She’d been broken over and over, but somehow she’d picked up the pieces and continued on. He didn’t want to be the one to break her yet again.
“I am selfish,” she whispered.
He couldn’t disagree. “There are reasons why you behave the way you do.”
Angrily, she pushed the back of her hand over her eyes. “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”
He flexed his fingers. Hell, he was so close to letting himself go. His control was stretched on the rack. One touch, one slight brush, and it would break.
“Aye,” he said tightly. But he made no move.
“Go, then.”
He stood still.
She raised her chin at him. “What, then, do you expect to do to me?”
That was it. Her words snapped his restraint. She didn’t make any mention of what she’d do to him—oh, no. It would be what
he
would do to
her
. She understood
.
he
would do to
her
. She understood
.
He no longer gave a damn about Cam or anyone else. There was only this haughty woman, this fragile, spoiled, hurting woman he’d wanted since the first moment he’d seen her.
Elizabeth had been left to her own devices to such an extent that she had disconnected from the world. Even her own punishments hadn’t been inflicted on her. Whoever had taken her virginity might have performed the act, but she had dictated every moment of it, and the man hadn’t gone beyond skin deep. He hadn’t affected her.
She was untouched. It was time to end that. She needed someone to touch her. To take that rigid control out of her hands and teach her to be human again.
“Turn around.”
After a moment staring at him, she obeyed, slowly opening her palms against the smooth rock face.
He slipped his arms over her shoulders. She was strung tight, nearly as tight as he’d felt moments ago. Reaching around her, he pulled loose the string holding the neckline of her cloak and then her shift. Her cloak fell to her feet, and he tugged the material of her shift down over her creamy white shoulders. She pressed her forehead against the wall.
A tremor buzzed within him. His seed boiled in his ballocks. His cock tightened until it hurt. Discovery meant certain death for him, but God, how intensely he wanted this forbidden woman.
He needed her. Needed this.
So did she. Perhaps even more than he did.
The desire to give her what she needed was a fierce compulsion within him. She wanted his possession; that much he knew instinctively. Maybe this could help rebuild her. And if she was strong, she could bear the rest. Because God knew, Rob had no idea how to stop the duke, and even the earl, from sucking her lifeblood like leeches.
Or maybe he deluded himself. Maybe he was a selfish bastard who wanted her too badly to pay heed to the consequences. Who had abandoned all reason for the simple purpose of easing his lust.
He didn’t know. He couldn’t consider what drove him anymore. All he could consider was Elizabeth and the smooth skin of her back.
He lowered his head and brushed his lips over the tops of her shoulders, skimming her shoulder blade. Moving her sleek blond hair to the side, he kissed the back of her neck at her hairline. Then he traveled to the opposite shoulder, dropping his hands to clasp about her waist. When he reached the soft flesh on the outside of her upper arm, he bared his teeth and bit down.
She didn’t move, didn’t cry out. She sighed, long and low, and he felt the deep shudder resonate through her, passing out and up through her hips.
The nip of pain brought her pleasure. His cock grew harder with the understanding, and the gleam of hope that she could be his match strengthened to a bright, burning light.
“You taste sweet,” he murmured, soothing the skin he’d bitten with gentle kisses.
She began to turn toward him, but he raised his hand and pressed her cheek away. “Be still.”
She shuddered again, and he sank to his knees. Slowly, he worked his hands upward from her ankles, over her calf, lingering behind her knee, pulling up the hem of her shift as he went. How he’d fantasized about running his hands over this woman’s flesh. Now he lived the fantasy, and it was every bit as compelling as he’d imagined it would be.
He rubbed his thumb over the sensitive area behind her knee, then kissed her skin. She tasted like an English rose. Sweet and delicate. He’d never feared her thorns, however. He intended to strip them away one by one.
She breathed harshly now, making no attempt to hide her reaction to his touch.
He splayed his fingers and ran them up the backs of her thighs until he reached the rounded curve of her behind. He closed his eyes. How often had he pictured this arse under his hands? How often had he imagined the pink imprints of his fingers on the plump, pale flesh?
He rose, lifting her shift over her head and tossing it aside. It was a cool night, and save her shoes, she was naked. But her flesh was warm under his seeking touch.
“Yes,” she whispered, “yes, yes,” as his hands found their way around her body, up the smooth flat of her stomach and around the curves of her breasts. Her breasts fit perfectly in his palms, and her nipples were taut, jewel-hard under his questing fingers. He pinched them simultaneously between his thumb and forefinger, and she released another sigh, this one more ragged than before.
He pressed his cock against the cleft of her arse, knowing she’d feel the hard ridge behind the fabric of his plaid.
“See?” he growled into her ear. “Never say you do not affect me. That I don’t want you.” He grazed his teeth along her earlobe.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please what?” He swiped his tongue over the shell of her ear. “Tell me what you wish I’d do to you.”
“Take me.”
Not enough.
“How? Where?”
“How? Where?”
“Take me hard.”
He feathered his fingertips over her lips. “Do you want me to take your mouth?”
“I—I . . . yes.”
“Your arse?”
She gulped.
He slid his hand between their bodies, tracing the crease of her arse, pausing at the forbidden area and circling it gently as she sucked in air and shudders rippled beneath her skin.
He traveled farther, deeper between her legs, until he felt the slickness of her desire. “Your cunny? Is it here that you want me?” he purred into her ear.
Her only response was a whimper.
Gently, he stroked over the wet tissue and teased her opening. Then, all at once, he thrust two fingers in.
She didn’t make a sound, but her whole body jerked violently, and her inner muscles spasmed over his fingers. She’d said she wasn’t a virgin, but she was tight, so tight that once again he had to school himself to temperance.
“Tell me about the men you’ve taken here.”
“O-only one.” She gasped as he pumped her.
“Tell me.”
“He was one of . . . my . . . uncle’s footmen.” Her body undulated against him.
“Did you seduce him?”
“N-n-no. I . . .”
“Tell me, Elizabeth.”
“I ordered him to bed me.”
“Couldn’t say no to the duke’s niece, could he?”
“No . . . but he was frightened that we would be caught. It was . . . over very quickly.”
“And afterward?” he said silkily.
“He ran away.”
“And did you do it again?”
“No.” She sighed, long and low. “He wasn’t worth the risk.”
“But I am?”
“Yes.” Her response was instantaneous. “For you I would risk everything.”
He chuckled softly in her ear. “Your footman was a weakling, as most men are when it comes to bonny women. To women of a certain class. But I’m not.”
“I know.”
He continued to slide his fingers into her, reaching deeper with every stroke. He watched her carefully, felt her beneath him, learned her body as he explored it. As the pads of his buried fingertips stroked against her inside walls, she trembled. That one spot deep within her was something he could exploit, use to his benefit when the time was right. But for now, he made his strokes shallower, using his thumb to explore the area behind her cunny.
“Ah,” she whispered from behind clenched teeth.
She liked it there, then. The forbidden territory of her body. He wouldn’t take her far tonight, but soon he’d know every inch, every piece of her. But he’d take his time—there was a fine line between pleasure and pain, between punishment and reward. He would skirt between those lines, right to the cusp of her tolerance, but he would be careful never to take her beyond her limit. He would never hurt her, never scare her, because, in the end, what he loved most was what he saw in her now: the expression of sweet, compliant agony on her face. The sighs of contentment. Each time she responded to him, his need to protect her, to care for her, and to bring her pleasure grew.
Elizabeth needed him. No one else was capable of giving her what she needed. And if anyone tried . . .
Mine
.
.
He squelched the rage that built in him at the thought. He tamped down the possessiveness rising like a powerful tide within him, growling,
Mine, mine, mine!
Mine, mine, mine!
Forcefully, he turned his attention back to the body writhing under his touch. She was so open, so willing. So trusting.
Why did she trust him? What had he done to earn this woman’s trust?
“Turn around.”
She turned, and he pressed her back against the rock face. She shuddered at the contact, for the rocks against her heated skin must feel like blocks of ice.
“Open your eyes.”
Her lids rose, and she gazed at him, the blue orbs hazy with a combination of lust and trust that sent the blood roaring through his veins.
He let her stand alone, panting, as he studied her. Assessed her. She stared up at him. Completely open.
Her trust staggered him, humbled him. He released a breath through his teeth and gathered her against him. She shuddered in his arms, held him, touched him from head to toe as if she sought to get even closer. To crawl under his skin and stay there.
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