Kilts and Daggers (14 page)

Fagan gave her a long, passionate kiss, the kind Grace was growing addicted to. She realized that she didn't want to share this feeling with anyone else—ever—only this man before her.

The way he fondled her breasts made her yearn for something just beyond her reach. All she knew was she craved more of his touch. She was fully aware of the hardness that brushed against her belly. But when his hand moved and slid up her inner thigh, she was glad the shadows from the crackling fire hid the flush in her cheeks.

“Fagan!” she cried out as he rubbed her most sensitive spot between her legs. She reached down and stilled his hand.

“Shhh…let me pleasure ye, if only for this night. Och, lass. Ye are so wet for me, so ready.”

When his lips touched hers, all sanity fled. The man thrust his finger partially inside her at the same time his tongue entered her mouth. She couldn't catch her breath, couldn't—and didn't want to—stop the rush of heady pleasure.

She gripped his shoulders as he battered her defenses. She felt a vaguely unsatisfied ache down there, something she didn't quite understand. Fagan's caresses were making her mad with need. She wanted more. She needed…him.

“Fagan, please.”

He pulled up her legs to straddle his waist, his member resting at the folds of her womanly heat. Gently, he pushed against her, and she thought she'd fall apart.

“Is this what ye want, lass?” His voice was thick and heavy. “Because once ye say ‘aye,' there is nay turning back.”

She lifted her fingers to his lips, and he kissed them. His eyes darkened with emotion, and a hot ache grew in her throat. “Yes. I want nothing more than to be with you.”

He leaned over her and stilled. “This may hurt for a wee bit, but I give ye my word the pain will lessen. Trust me.”

“I do.”

He kissed her, and she gasped when he entered her with a single thrust. He held perfectly still and placed his forehead to hers. His body shook, and sweat beaded on his brow.

“Are you all right?”

His eyes widened. “Me? Are ye?”

Grace gazed into his eyes and never wanted to look anywhere else again. She brought his lips to hers and kissed him as if he were her lifeline into this world and the next. Slowly and with unbearable tenderness, he moved inside her. At first, there was a slight discomfort, but then she found herself releasing her body, her mind, and her heart to him.

He reached down and rubbed the sensitive spot between them. She wasn't sure what she was doing but knew that he hadn't yet sought his own pleasure. She ran her fingernails down his back and he groaned.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Och, nay.” He lifted his head. “I want to come inside ye.” When she shifted and lifted her hips to seek a more comfortable position, he growled. “God…oh, God…aye, lass, aye…”

She could feel something building, thundering toward a peak. Between Fagan's words and the expert touch of his hand, she was coming apart. Their bodies were in exquisite harmony with one another. They were as one. “Fagan…”

“After ye, after ye…”

Waves of ecstasy flowed through her. The pleasure was pure, and she cried out for release. Passion inched through her veins, and her whole being flooded with desire. She yielded to the searing need that had been building between them. Fagan grunted, and love flowed in her like warm honey.

He gently brushed the hair back from her forehead with his thumb. He captured her eyes with his and caressed her cheek before he rolled onto his side and draped his arm over her. His breathing, as well as hers, was heavy. She nestled her bottom into his groin, rubbing her fingernails over the tiny hairs on his arm. He spoke softly against her ear.

“Are ye all right?”

“Mmm… I think I'm doing rather well.”

He kissed her on the top of the head. “I'm glad to hear it.”

“And you?”

He nuzzled her neck. “I couldnae be better.”

Grace rolled over and faced him. She lifted her hand to his cheek. “I want to remember you like this always.”

He kissed the palm of her hand, and then his eyes narrowed. “There is naught to remember about me because ye are now mine.”

Fagan held Grace in his arms until the rising sun peeked through the slits in the door. He clung to the memory of last eve as if the woman in his embrace had saved him from drowning in a stormy sea. As he lightly fingered her loose tendrils, she nestled her head into his chest. He regarded her with curiosity as his mind was puzzled by new thoughts. Ideas he had never thought possible.

Grace stirred, her usually lively eyes sparkling up at him with weariness. “Mmm… I don't want to rise. You're so warm. Can't we just stay like this all day and shut out the rest of the world?”

“I'm afraid my men wouldnae agree to that. Besides, what if the rat returns? I donna think ye'd want to be lying flat on the pallet if he does.”

She swatted at him. “That's why I have you and my dagger to protect me.”

“Me, aye. Your dagger, nae so much.” When she was about to protest, he silenced her words with his lips. He pulled back and gazed down lazily through half-closed lids. “Are ye all right?”

“I couldn't be better, Mister Murray.” She gave him a soft smile.

“Did I hurt ye? I tried to be careful.”

She ran her nails lightly over his arm. “At first, it was uncomfortable, but after a while I can honestly say that I enjoyed myself.”

“Next time will nae be as unpleasant. I promise ye that.”

“Oh, I don't think it's wise for there to be a next time between us. I have to say that's not a very good idea.”

He lifted a brow. “What do ye mean?”

Grace raised her hand to his cheek. “For one night, I wanted to know love. I wanted to feel love. And I told you that I wanted to know it with you, being held in your arms. You gave me that.”

“And I told ye… I
warned
ye that once ye said ‘aye,' there was nay turning back.”

She hesitated, blinking in confusion. “I don't understand.” She sat up and held the blanket over her chest.

His eyes narrowed. “What is there to understand? I took your innocence.”

“You didn't take anything. I
gave
you my innocence.”

Fagan rose from the pallet and donned his kilt. “And if ye're with child, 'tis my child.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm not enceinte.”

“And ye say that because ye've had so much experience with this in the past?”

Grace pulled herself to her feet and wrapped the blanket around her. “Is that your concern?” When he didn't respond, she quickly added, “Ravenna told me she'd been with men before Ruairi because of her duties to the Crown. Yet she was never with child.”

“Nevertheless, ye show up in the Highlands demanding to speak to your sister who ye thought was with child.”

“You know very well that I didn't know Ravenna's purpose.”

He pulled his tunic over his head. “I am nae going to quarrel with ye over this.” He stepped around her to the pallet, and she turned to face him. “Let me tell ye how this is going to be, and then mayhap ye will nae be so confused. Like it or nae, Lady Grace, ye're mine. Ye gave yourself to me of free will. Lest ye forget ye're the one who stood between me and the door. I am taking ye to England for ye to break off your betrothal with Casterbrook. Once that's settled, ye will return with me to the Highlands.” His voice became softer. “I know I donna have much to offer ye, but I give ye all that I have. I give ye me.”

She poked him in the chest with her finger, and her voice went up a notch. “No one tells me what I can or cannot do, especially a man, a Highlander, who thinks he knows all and what's best for everyone around him.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

“You have this way about you that makes me frustrated because you're so completely headstrong. My apologies if you thought last night bonded us together for all eternity, Mister Murray, but I assure you that was not my intention. You know perfectly well that your laird, as well as my sister, would never approve of this union, ever. And unless
you
intend on telling them about our little indiscretion, as far as I'm concerned, last night never happened.”

He gestured down to the pallet, and her eyes widened at the spot of blood.

“There is proof that I took your innocence,
bhana-phrionnsa.
I donna think ye want me to call in my men to bear witness to what happened here between us last eve.”

“You wouldn't dare.” Her jaw slackened when she realized he was dead serious.

“I am naught like the Englishmen ye favor. I take responsibility for my actions. I ruined ye for any other man. There is nay turning back now. The deed is done. Ye are mine.”

* * *

Fagan walked out the door, and Grace was thankful he was out of sight. She could have throttled the man. Fury choked her and curses flew from her mouth. She was irked by his unreasonable demands, especially since his chivalrous attitude finally surfaced at a most inopportune moment. Frankly, his unwarranted behavior cast a shadow on the best night of her life. She would never forget the memories of their tender moments together.

But she thought they had had an understanding. Her intent was not to force Fagan to the altar and shackle him into a marriage, of all things. Any man would've been relieved to be released from such a burden—but not him. Then again, she was learning he wasn't like most men. She had a hard time understanding why he would even consider being strapped to an English lady. She knew he put up with her as a courtesy to Ravenna and Ruairi, but he didn't have to take things this far.

Grace quickly dressed and folded the blanket. She needed to find Fagan and talk some sense into him, praying he didn't open his mouth to his men about their encounter. With one last look around the crofter's hut, she rested her eyes on the pallet on the floor. Memories of Fagan and his gentle touch warmed her heart, but when she thought of his demands, the man fired her blood again and not in a good way.

She walked out of her shelter and was greeted by the warm rays of the sun. Everything was calm, and the horses were grazing. No one would ever suspect that a savage storm raged through the glen last night if they hadn't experienced it for themselves. Grace closed the door behind her and hastily increased her pace to find Fagan. She didn't have to look far. He approached her from the woods, leading two mounts.

“Are ye ready? My men are securing the carriage horses now.”

“Yes, but we need to talk.”

He stopped when he reached her. “What about?” His tone was innocent, but she knew better.

“Don't be coy with me, Mister. You know exactly what I want to discuss.” When his expression hardened, Grace softened her voice and reached out and touched his arm. “Fagan, I cannot lie to you. Yes, I wanted to be with you and I did so freely. I meant what I said. I favor the way you and I have grown to talk with each other.” She met his eyes and held them.

“If only for a moment, I wanted that special time and the man to be you. But as I told you, what we shared was only for one night. I didn't expect you to wed me because you took my innocence. I was perfectly aware of the choice I made. You once told me the path I choose to take is my own, but I should take the time to think things through. Can you honestly imagine spending the rest of your life with me? We'd kill each other. Why can't we just go on with our lives? No one knows.” She glanced at him for any sign of objection, and he studied her thoughtfully for a moment.

“But I know.”

And that was all he said. He walked around her and left her standing alone. She glanced down at the grass with its blanket of morning dew and took a deep breath, praying for patience. She had to get him to see to reason, and she only had the remainder of the trip to England to accomplish the task.

“My lady, we are ready to depart,” called Calum.

She lifted her skirts and made her way to the carriage. The men had already gathered her trunks. The bundles they'd left next to the trail from the evening before were also securely fastened to the coach. She took her driver's extended hand as he assisted her into the place where she'd spend the next several hours thinking of a way to change Fagan's mind. She said a silent prayer she could.

* * *

Tha
e
ceàrr. It's wrong.
Those words plagued his thoughts because Fagan knew in his gut he was right. That's why Grace's words made no sense to him. Contrary to what the woman thought, his decision was not an easy one to make, and it continued to tear him apart.

He considered himself an honorable man. He prided himself on being true and just. Granted, he had bedded his share of willing women, but he'd never been attached to any of them. And on no occasion had he ever taken away the innocence of a lass. Whether the woman was English or a Scot made no difference. His actions would've been the same either way. But Grace was nobility, and he was not. What kind of life could a Highland captain possibly provide for an English lady? He'd go daft trying to sort out the madness.

Once again, he resumed his place and rode in front of the carriage with a handful of his men. He wasn't sure why he stayed there because he could have followed the carriage now. He wasn't saying his farewells, and after Grace broke off her betrothal with Casterbrook, Fagan would be taking her home to Scotland.

“I hope we donna encounter another storm like we did last eve, eh? Praise the saints we had the barn and the crofter's hut in the glen. The horses werenae verra fond of the thunder and lightning. Mayhap next time we will nae be so lucky,” said Calum.

“I ne'er mind traveling as long as the storms are kept at bay. But the storm has delayed our journey. We need to push farther while the light lasts. Och, and I want to keep an eye on Big Gray. He was favoring his left leg after pulling the carriage up the hill in the mud. Although he trails behind the coach this day, keep a watch on him. We cannae afford to lose a good horse.”

Calum gave a short nod. “Aye.”

Fagan continued to push his men throughout the day. They only made two short stops to rest and water the horses. To his relief, he'd managed to take the coward's way out and avoid Grace during those times.

Under the dusk sky, his men wearily bedded down for the night. He started to pitch the tent for Grace when he heard a moan behind him.

“Please, I beg you…”

He turned his head and narrowed his eyes. He refused to listen to her attempts to try to sway his mind at every opportunity. He was about to give her a verbal thrashing when her words surprised him.

“If I become chilled, I'll cover myself with a blanket. I cannot sleep in that tent again with its stifling heat. If you're worried about your men, I'm sure you'll sleep with one eye open to protect me.”

He hesitated. “Are ye certain? I donna mind making ye shelter.”

She gestured to the sky. “The sun was shining all day and no clouds are in sight. You can start to see the stars. The weather is not suddenly going to turn.”

He stood. “If ye're sure.
Fuirich
air
falbh
on
teine
.” When she lifted a brow, he translated for her: “Donna get too close to the fire.”

Grace lowered her voice. “I won't make that mistake again. I don't want to get burned.”

* * *

Men.
And Grace thought her sisters were difficult to understand. She'd spent the entire day confined in the carriage trying to think of a way to convince Fagan to come back to reality. She had failed when she simply tried to talk sense to him. She should've known the easiest way wouldn't work with Fagan. Unknowingly, he gave her no choice but to move on to her next idea. She was determined to show him what life would be like with her by his side—day after day, night after night.

She sat on the blanket before the fire, and an innocent expression crossed her face. “Fagan?” When he glanced up from the flames, she tried to stay her smile. “I'm hungry. Could I possibly have something to eat?”

“Ye just ate.”

“I know, but do be a dear and grab me something from the basket, would you?”

He reluctantly rose and walked to the carriage as she tried to think of another way to annoy him. When he approached her with a handful of dried beef, she smiled her thanks. He walked around the fire and lowered himself to the ground.

She once again met his gaze over the flames. “You know? I'm not really all that hungry. I think I've changed my mind. I don't want to waste the food. Could you take this back and fetch me some water instead?” She placed her hand to her throat. “I find I'm a little parched from the journey.”

His eyes narrowed, and he pulled himself to his feet. He stepped around the pit of the fire and held out his hand. “Is there anything else I can get for ye while I'm up,
bhana-phrionnsa?
”

She lowered her voice, and a smile played the corner of her lips. “As I said, the water will be fine, but I'll be sure to tell you if there is anything else you can do for me.”

“How daft do ye think I am? Ye may think of me as some dumb Scot who isnae educated like the men of your country. And even though your actions make it clear that ye are far above my station, I will nae be made the fool in front of my men. If ye want something, get off your English arse and get it yourself.”

When Fagan turned, she reached out and grabbed his kilt. “Wait! That was not what I meant. I don't think that way at all. I was only trying to—” She couldn't finish her words because he gave her another icy glare and stormed off into the trees.

Grace closed her eyes and cursed her stupidity. She hadn't meant to insult him. As she remembered the look on his face, she cringed. She'd hurt him. All she wanted to do was make him realize that he could be marrying one of those haughty English ladies whose behavior was absurd. During her brief time at court, she'd seen some women whose demeanor was a definite embarrassment to the fairer sex. Her only intent was for Fagan to know that she could drive him completely mad if they were bound as man and wife. And she'd failed miserably.