Highland Temptation (6 page)

What the
hell
had he been thinking? Colin pushed a hand through his hair and grabbed a clump of it at his nape. How had he believed he'd be able to survive in close quarters for hours, days, weeks on end with a woman like Lady Emilia?

She was everything he admired in a woman. Bonny. Intelligent. With quiet strength. But she was also so sweetly innocent, it roused something inside him. A wicked spirit that wanted to devour her innocence. To teach her everything he knew. To show her all the erotic things he wanted to do to her body.

He wanted to teach her pleasure. He wanted to show her what he could do to her, how he could bring her that pleasure, and so much more. He had been standing behind her, trying to focus on her wounds and not her pale, perfect skin nor the dip and flare of her waist and hips. She was a feminine creature, from her wispy curls to her tiny wee feet. He had wanted to wrap his arms around her, bend down and kiss the column of her neck, feel the pulse of her jugular vein under his lips. He wanted to taste her and suck her and show her what it was to be made love to.

He stared at the horse in front of him. The animal was just fine. He was the one who felt like he needed…what? He didn't even know. He was losing his mind—that was all he knew for certain.

He left the stable, going into the clearing between it and the inn. He gazed up into the night and saw no stars, no moon. There was no light at all, just a dim glow from two of the windows of the inn, one of them his and Emilia's. He gazed at that window for a long while, seeing vague shadows of movement inside, then nothing. She hadn't extinguished the lantern, but she'd probably gone to bed.

He needed to wait until she was asleep. Perhaps he was a bastard for being gone so long, leaving her wondering what had happened to him, but he needed to be away from her for a while. On the other hand, there was nowhere for him to go. The town was quiet and dark, its occupants asleep or nearly there, and it was damn cold out here in the open.

He'd go for a walk for as long as he could tolerate the chill in the air, he decided. He walked around to the front of the inn, then out onto the street, placing his footsteps carefully on the cobbles. He'd driven through Caxton at least a dozen times on his travels between London and Scotland. He'd been in this town, on this street, but now it felt foreign, changed somehow.

He'd never traveled with such precious cargo before, he realized. He thought of Emilia, alone in bed in a strange inn. God. He'd been in such a hurry to leave, he hadn't even locked the door when he'd left her.

He'd left her vulnerable. Unguarded. In danger. Panic welled in his gut, and he turned, sprinting back to the Cross Keys Inn as quickly as he could without falling on his face in the dark.

He was sweating by the time he mounted the stairs—not out of exertion but out of panic for Emilia's safety. If she was safe, he vowed, he'd never leave her alone again. He'd likely go crazy from lust, but he was never,
ever
going to leave her vulnerable.

He reached the landing and was at the door in two long strides. He stopped, battling back the urge to throw the door open, took a ragged breath, and slowly turned the handle and pushed the door inward.

She lay on the bed, curled on her side, facing him. She was asleep. And safe, thank God. He closed his eyes in a long blink, then opened them again. Her face was soft in slumber, and she looked so damn young. She
was
so damn young, he amended, a decade younger than him.

As quietly as he could, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, this time locking it. He went to the basin and washed, then took a pillow from the bed and tossed it to the floor at the foot of the bed. Pulling his
sgian dubh
from his stocking, he placed it by the pillow. He removed his shoes and stockings and unbuckled his kilt before laying one of the plaids on the floor and grabbing another to use as a blanket.

After blowing out the lantern, he lay on his back on the hard floor at the foot of the bed and closed his eyes. It wasn't unreasonable to think Pinfield could already be after them. Who knew to what lengths the man would go to find his daughter? Colin had been unforgivably stupid tonight. There was no excuse for it.

It would not happen again.

A drawn-out noise woke Emilia from a fretful sleep. She shivered and opened her eyes. The room was dim and cold, the meager light and heat coming from the glowing coals in the brazier, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

She went stiff when she heard the sound again. A ragged moan, as if someone were in the throes of death. She reached for Colin, but he wasn't beside her.

The moan came again, this time on a drawn-out word. “Nooo.”

The voice had come from somewhere beyond the foot of the bed.

“Colin?” she whispered. No answer. Slowly, she rose to a seated position, the wounds on her back pulling uncomfortably.

“Stop. No.”

Finally she could recognize the man's tortured voice. It belonged to Colin. Her heart pounding frantically, she slid off the side of the bed and hurried to its foot, slamming to a stop adjacent to the bedpost.

Colin was on the floor, on his hands and knees, his white shirt hanging down, plaids in a tangle around him. He gripped a dagger in one hand and swung it blindly back and forth. “St-op!” he yelled brokenly.

His eyes were open, but he clearly wasn't in this room with her. He was somewhere else. Somewhere terrible. She gazed warily at the glint of the dagger in his hand. It was a small blade, but she was certain it'd be wickedly sharp.

His body recoiled as if someone had just dealt him a crushing blow, he cried out, and Emilia flinched. She had to stop this. “Colin? Colin!”

Too deep into the nightmare, he didn't hear her. His arm swung, the dagger slicing an arc in the air.

Emilia chewed on her lip. She had no idea what to do. How to get him out of this hell he was so clearly living in.

“Stop!” he bellowed.

“Colin!” she shouted in return. Lord, she hoped they didn't wake the whole inn. She moved across the bed and slid onto the other side, farther from the slice of Colin's wicked dagger.

“Colin, it's me,” she said loudly. “Emilia. I'm here. I'm just behind you.”

He whipped his head around, looking over his shoulder, but his eyes were wild and unseeing. “Who's there?”

She dropped to her knees near his bare shins. “Me. Emilia. There is no one else here, Colin. Only me.”

He shook his head in disbelief, raising his dagger in warning.

She reached out and rested her hand on his back, exerting a gentle pressure. “It's just me. I'm not here to hurt you, but that dagger is scaring me. Will you put it down, please?”

He sat back on his haunches, bringing the dagger to his face and looking at it, his brows drawn together in a frown. Then, as slowly as if he were moving through syrup, he dropped his hand to his side and turned to face her.

There was no recognition in his eyes. Moving as slowly as he had, and very aware of the weapon he still gripped, she reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Colin, it's me. Emilia.” She gazed straight into his clouded eyes.

The bristles on his cheek scraped against her palm as he stared at her. He blinked, then blinked again, hard. Then his entire body shuddered, and she heard the
clack
of the blade as it hit the wood floor.

“E-Emilia?”

She nodded, and he fell backward, away from her as if she were poison, catching himself with his hands. He looked at the dagger beside him, now lying innocently on the floor, then back to her. “I…Jesus. Emilia?”

“Yes, it's me. Everything's all right,” she said, amazed by the contrast in their voices. She sounded strong and calm, while he sounded bewildered and afraid. “I think you had a nightmare.”

He scrambled up to a standing position, and she rose, too, facing him, watching him guardedly as his expression changed from confusion to anger.

She reached toward him, but he stepped back, the muscles in his jaw working.

“Everything's all right,” she soothed. The look on his face made a prickle of unease run up her spine.

“Nay,” he bit out.

She tilted her head in confusion.

“Nay, 'tis
not
all right.”

“You're all right. The nightmare is over.”

His head swung from side to side. “Aye,” he said bitterly. “ 'Tis over. They're gone.”

“
They
were never here.”

“They were. I was trying to kill them, if they didn't kill me first.”

She nodded. “You succeeded.”

He turned away from her, grabbing the bedpost and leaning his forehead against it. “Do you not see, Emilia?”

“See what?”

“They're gone, but you could be, too. I might've hurt you.”

“You didn't. You wouldn't,” she said.

“I didna see you. I might have thought you were one of them. I might've slit your throat.” His words were brutal, hard, and anguished, and his eyes shone like gold in the almost nonexistent light.

“No. You would never think that.”

“I would. I did.”

“You didn't hurt me, Colin. You didn't even come close.”

He shook his head. “What if I had?”

“But you didn't!”

He closed his eyes and groaned. “What was I thinking, insisting I come with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm a damned idiot,” he said. “A selfish, foolish man.” He turned to her. “I wasna thinking of your safety.”

“Of course you were.”

“Nay. I only kent I wanted to be with you. That I like being near you. That I wished to take you away from Pinfield. But I didna bother to think about how I might be as dangerous to you as he is.”

She ground her teeth. “Never compare yourself to him. You're nothing like him.”

“I'm dangerous, Emilia.”

“I know that. But not to me!”

“I might've hurt you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I might've
killed
you just now.”

“No,” she said stubbornly. She'd been cautious of the blade, but only because she hadn't wanted to be accidentally cut when he'd been slicing it through the air. She'd never once thought that he'd deliberately hurt her. She still didn't.

“I'm going to send for one of the other Knights to take over,” he muttered.

Panic nearly choked her. “No! Please don't. I don't want anyone else.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“I only want you. Please.” Compelled by some force she didn't understand, she stepped up to him, wrapped her arms around him, and buried her head in his chest, squeezing tight. “I don't think I'd survive this with anyone else. Please don't leave me.”

“Why?” His voice had dropped to a murmur, and his arms came up and around her, resting just above the top line of her wounds.

“Because, you're…you. You make me feel safe. You're the only one who can keep me safe.” Panic pulsed desperately in her throat. The thought of him leaving her made her dizzy with the need to convince him to stay.

“Impossible.”

“It's true.
Please,
don't send for another Knight.”

“Emilia,” he whispered. “You dinna understand. There's something…” She felt him shaking his head.

“I know,” she said. “I
do
understand. Do you think I don't see the darkness in you? I have always seen it. It lurks there, behind almost everything you do. Whatever it is tortures you. And whatever it is caused that nightmare, I'm certain of it.”

He sucked in a breath and was quiet for a long moment. She hugged him tighter, pressing her cheek against the hardness of his pectoral muscles.

“How can you…How could you have seen all that?” His voice was soft with wonder.

She closed her eyes. “I've watched you. From the very first time you came to the house to guard my father.”

“Why?”

Her breath caught in her throat—because that was the question, wasn't it? Why had she found him so compelling, even from the very first time she'd seen him?

“I could say I don't know, and that's partly true.” She pulled back a little and looked into his face, and realized she didn't want to lie to this man, ever. “But to me, you encompassed all the good things a man should be.”

He reached up and cupped her chin, then rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. Emilia tried to contain her shiver.

“And what are those, lass?”

“You were handsome.” She pressed on, fighting embarrassment at that admission. “Intelligent in the way you handled my father. Loyal to your brother Knights. Strong and capable that night in Vauxhall when your comrade was attacked. But I always saw the darkness lurking, especially that day we crossed paths on the street in London.” She gazed into his eyes. “Were you fighting it that day?”

“Aye,” he said gruffly. He dropped his hand and pulled her to him again. She went into his arms willingly, loving the heat and comfort his body gave hers.

“What am I going to do with you, Emilia?” His groan was laden with desperation and fear, and laced with something she could only identify as desire.

“Stay with me,” she said.

He gave a huff of laughter. “That's easier said than done.”

“I feel safe with you, Colin. Safer than I ever have with anyone else. Please. Stay. You are the only person who can help me—there is no one else I'd feel safe with.”

“Even after tonight?”

“Especially after tonight. The fact that you didn't make a move to hurt me even in the deepest moments of your nightmare proved that you'll never hurt me.”

“You've a strange way of looking at things.”

“The
correct
way of looking at things.”

“We'll be needing to take precautions.”