Moon Awakening (6 page)

Ulf hated her… just as all the Highlanders hated her. Except Cait. She hoped Cait would find happiness with Drustan.

"Emily, stop!"

That was Lachlan's voice, but she couldn't obey. If she did, he would take her to his castle made of stone and her heart would be ground to powder by more hatred from his clan.

"Emily!"

She pushed herself to run faster, but she was still several feet from the edge of the forest when a heavy body landed against her, knocking her to the ground. She fought, but she could not dislodge his weight. She kept trying, but no matter how hard she tried to get her legs under her, she failed. Finally, spent from her efforts, she lay still.

Lachlan rolled off of her and turned her onto her back before standing up.

"Why did you run away?" he demanded, his voice tight with fury, his expression set in stone harder than his castle.

Did he hate her, too? "Please let me go."

"Where, you daft woman? You have nowhere to go. Surely you must see that."

The smell of the sea surrounded them, reminding her that she could not go back. "The forest. I want to go to the forest."

"Have you really gone daft then? There is nothing for you there but wild animals."

"At least they won't hate me. Please, Lachlan. I can't go to the castle… I don't want to meet your people."

"You have no choice."

She scrambled to her knees and scooted away from him.

"If you run again, I will lock you in the tower. Your door will only be opened to serve your meals."

Emily jumped to her feet and ran. He caught her before she'd taken four steps. She hadn't expected any less.

He turned her to face him, his expression good and mean. "I meant what I said, lass."

"Yes." Tears were streaming down her face now and she could not stem their flow. "Lock me in the tower and I won't have to see anyone. I will not have to face their hatred."

It was a much better plan than her confused notion of hiding in the forest.

"Hatred? Whose hatred?"

"Your clan's. The women will be just like the Sinclair women… or worse. They'll believe I soil the air they breathe just because I'm English and the soldiers will all glare at me all the time. If I do something wrong… they'll hurt me. I was just waiting for it before and now I know it will happen. Ulf already wants to hurt me," she reminded Lachlan of that irrefutable fact before bursting into more sobs.

He pulled her roughly against him, his hand patting awkwardly on her back. "I won't let him."

"You will. You hate me, too. You have to. I'm your enemy." Even as she said the words, she pressed into the solid safety of his body.

Somehow, this all had to be a nightmare and therefore she was not acting forward. Nothing had to be proper or make sense in dreams.

Lachlan could not stand Emily's bereft tone and having her soft curves so close to him was driving him as daft as she sounded. But he did not believe she was crazy. Just hurt, very, very hurt. It was true that the Highlander's dislike of the English was deeply ingrained, but the Sinclairs had obviously taken it to levels far beyond anything he had seen before.

"The Sinclair soldiers hurt you?"

"Not yet, but it was bound to happen. Don't you see?"

"And Talorc?"

"He hates me most of all. He called me his enemy and no one cared, but they all think I'm wicked because I said I would rather be married to a goat than to him."

"Was this before or after the marriage?" he asked, feeling his first twinge of sympathy for the Sinclair laird.

To have his bride chosen for him would have been insult enough, but to have her say in front of witnesses that she would rather be married to a goat would have been galling indeed.

"Before." She hiccupped on a small sob and burrowed closer to his rapidly growing arousal, but she did not know it.

She was too innocent to realize it. He was sure. And the knowledge tormented him.

"I do not like your tears."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop crying."

"I'm t-trying…"

He could tell she was. She sucked in one small, shuddering breath after another.

He could hear his brother
making
disparaging comments and Cait was upset that he was
holding Emily
so close. He frowned. His
life
as a laird made for
very little
privacy, but right now he wanted the prying eyes and ears of his fellow werewolves off of the vulnerable woman in his arms.

He swung her up against his chest and something strange twinged inside him when she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the curve of his throat. Lust. 'Twas all it was. He wanted her and he could not have her. It was nothing more than that. If he could bed her a few times to rid himself of the affliction, it would leave him.

He carried her into the forest, far away from the watchful eyes and superior hearing of his soldiers. It was not a smart thing to do. He was taking time they should be spending returning home and getting the women to certain safety.

Yet he could not make himself turn around and return to his soldiers until he had calmed Emily's fears.

He stopped only when he could no longer hear the others. He forced himself to let the woman go, lowering her to her feet carefully.

She looked up at him, her eyes still drowning. "Have you decided to leave me in the forest then?"

"Tell me why you ran away," he said instead of answering her ridiculous question.

"I told you. I can't stand any more hatred." She sighed, making an obvious bid to get control of her emotions. "I looked up at your castle and suddenly all I could think of were all the people who lived there… every one of them prepared to dislike me because I am English. On top of that, I am the Sinclair laird's wife and they will hate me for that too because he is your enemy."

"You believe this because… ?"

"It's true. I wish it weren't, but I've come to accept it. The Highlanders hate the English."

"You said that you told the Sinclair laird you would rather marry a goat. Do you not think that has as much to do with his clan's hostility to you as your being English?"

"Cait said that, but no one smiled at me upon my arrival either." She took a deep breath and let it out.

"We do not smile at strangers. Is that an English custom?"

She thought about it for several seconds while she blinked the last tears from her eyes. "Perhaps not, but I was supposed to marry their laird."

"By the king's edict."

"Well, yes."

"That would sting the pride of the clan. Their laird is their chief, they are loyal to him over their king."

"But you are supposed to be loyal to your king above all."

"In England this is true and mayhap in the Lowlands, but not here, lass."

"But that is wrong. It is a sin to put a clan chief above the king of your country."

"By whose edict?"

"The Church… I am sure the Church has taken such a stand."

"Are you?"

"Doesn't that matter to you?"

"No."

She stared at him as if she could not imagine such a thing. "Are you not worried about being sanctioned by the Church?"

"Nay."

It was almost worth saying it just to watch her reaction. She looked thoroughly scandalized. "But that is terrible."

"Do you think so?"

"So, Cait was right… Drustan will not be marrying her with the blessing of the Church."

"I did not say that."

"But no priest would come to your holding if you have such disrespectful views."

"Our priest does not find our views distressing."

"He doesn't?"

"No."

"
Your
priest? Does he live amidst your clan then?"

"Yes."

"Do you hate me, too?" she asked in a small voice.

"Why would you ask such a thing?"

"You acted like you hated me."

"When?"

"When you lifted me from the boat."

"You inconvenienced me. I was angry."

"I am sorry."

"You were obviously feeling overly emotional."

"Yes." She took another deep breath and waited. He waited for what she planned to say next. Finally, she let the breath out in a disgruntled sigh. "Well…
do
you hate me?"

"No."

"I don't hate you either."

He didn't understand why, but he liked hearing those words. Nevertheless, he said, "It does not matter."

"No, I don't suppose it does. Just as it does not matter to you that I think you are wrong to have kidnapped Cait and me."

"You are better off with my clan than the Sinclairs."

She bit her bottom lip, her eyes questioning him. "I don't see how."

"No one here will hate you, Emily."

"Ulf already does."

"Ulf is offended by your plain-speaking and your insults."

"He's surly."

Lachlan laughed. " 'Tis good of you to notice."

"I wasn't complimenting him."

"He would take it as such."

"You Highlanders are a strange lot."

"You have no idea."

She looked at him with such an air of innocence, he could barely refrain from touching her. "Your husband has not bedded you yet, has he?"

She gasped, her pale skin going rose red. "You should not ask such a question!"

"But I am right."

Her blush deepened and she looked away.

"Tell me the truth, English."

"It should not matter to you."

"Tell me."

She hugged herself, as if grabbing for courage. "No, he hasn't." She glared at him. "Are you happy now?"

He had guessed she was untouched, but to hear her say so affected his libido with cruel intensity. "He has never even kissed you, has he?" he asked, embarrassing her further and tormenting himself, but he had to know.

"Lachlan, please… don't ask such personal questions."

"I want to know."

"I don't want to tell you."

"I could kiss you and find out."

"It would be wrong to kiss another man's wife."

He didn't answer, waiting to see if she would give in and tell him the truth. She watched him as if waiting for him to withdraw the question. It was not going to happen.

He moved toward her.

She took three hasty steps backward. "No. He's never kissed me. Are you satisfied? He hates me. I told you, but the truth is… I don't want his touch."

That final whispered admission almost sent him to his knees because she did not mind
his
touch. His body still throbbed in reaction to her burrowing into him for comfort, even though she had seen him as the enemy.

Her violet eyes searched his during several seconds of silence he was content not to break. "If your people hate me, will you let me go?"

"They will not hate you." He would make sure of it. He knew the Sinclairs had more reason than most to despise the English, but to take their anger out on a tenderhearted woman like Emily was wrong.

"Will the women be kind to Cait as the Sinclair women are to Susannah, or will they shun her for being their enemy?"

"Drustan would challenge any man whose wife or daughter shunned his mate."

She nodded, apparently satisfied by that. "That is good to know. He's a strong warrior. Few would challenge him."

"You've got the right of it."

"Lachlan?"

"I am standing right here, lass."

"Are you married?"

He shook his head, wondering why she asked the question.

"Oh. Why not?"

"I do not want to marry yet."

"Oh." She went silent, apparently deep in thought.

What she had to think about, he could not guess. "Why do you ask?"

"Not for any particular reason." She licked her lips, blushing a bright pink and looking like she'd lost her train of thought.

"But you were curious?"

"It was merely a general curiosity. I don't care
personally
if you are married," she emphasized. "I am a very curious sort of person. Sybil always says my curiosity will get me into trouble, but I cannot seem to help myself."

Women were odd. Particularly human females, but this one was stranger than most. And even harder to understand was the fact that he liked it. He liked her.

"If I weren't married, would you let one of your soldiers keep me like Drustan is keeping Cait?" she asked, her expression going from worried to embarrassed.

"Nay. I would let no other man keep you."

"Cait believes you mean to kill her brother because of me."

"It is a move worth considering."

Emily paled, all traces of her blush fading along with her natural color. "But I don't want you to kill him!"

She should, or was she too tenderhearted to realize that? "You do not want to be married to him."

"That is no reason to kill him."

"But you do not wish to be his wife." He wanted to hear her say it, though why he should he could not understand. Her desires in the matter made little difference. Still he prompted, "Do you?"

"No, may God forgive me."

"Then his death would be to your benefit."

"Are you truly that cold?" she asked in a shaken voice.

"I am practical."

"Killing a man is not practical. It is wrong."

He did not understand her view. "Your father is a warrior."

"Yes."

"He has killed."

"Yes, but only his enemies."

"Talorc is my enemy."

"Were you at war before your clanswoman married his clansman without permission?"

"No."

"Then he is not your enemy." She seemed relieved by her conclusion. "You have no reason to hate him… or to kill him for that matter. I'm sure everything can be worked out if the two of you met… to talk I mean."

He didn't bother to scoff at her belief, but it was laughable. He and Talorc would not talk if they met face-to-face. They would fight.

"Stop looking like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you plan to kill him."

"Perhaps I do."

"You can't. Talorc is Cait's brother. It would upset her. Don't you see that? According to you, she is soon to be one of your clanswomen whether she wants to or not. Doesn't that mean that her happiness is your responsibility? You are the clan's laird after all."

The woman's ideas were downright daft on occasion and why that should make her even more appealing, he could not begin to fathom. "Cait is already upset."

"It would upset her more."

He shrugged. "She would get over it."

"She would hate you… and Drustan. She would hate him even more. You can't go killing her brother."

The discussion was getting to him, but not in the way he was sure she wanted it to. The thought of killing Talorc and claiming Emily as his lover was too damn tempting for Lachlan's peace of mind.

"He is also your husband. He hurt you. He should die." It made perfect sense to him, but Emily looked appalled.

"You can't kill the man on my behalf!" she shouted. "He didn't hurt me, not more than my feelings anyway. And I've come to believe that feelings are not overly important to you Highlanders. Leastways, not to warriors."

He shrugged again. Feelings
weren't
important, but if he chose to be offended on behalf of hers, that was his right. He was laird and pack leader. He could do anything he wanted.

"You shouldn't want to. I mean nothing to you, but then I don't suppose it takes one of you Highlanders much in the way of incentive to start killing each other." She paced away from him, muttering things that even his hearing could make no sense of. Finally, she stopped and faced him from several feet away. "I am not Lady Sinclair."

He heard the words, but could not take them in. She was not Lady Sinclair? That would mean she was not married to Talorc. "You are saying you lied to me?" he demanded.

"Only that one time. I wanted to save Cait and I thought you would believe that as his wife I was enough of a sacrifice to the clan."

"But you are
not
married to the Sinclair?"

"No." She was wringing her hands now. "We are supposed to marry, but he hates me. I don't know what I will do if he sends me back to England. I have to save my sister."

The words made no sense, but perhaps nothing would have at that moment. All he could think about was that it was not a smirch on his honor to kiss her. Right now.

He could not keep her, not a human… but he could kiss her and perhaps more. He smiled. "Emily… come here."

Her violet eyes flared warily. "I don't think that is a good idea."

The words were barely out of Emily's mouth before Lachlan crossed the distance between them and grabbed her by both arms. She gasped in shock, both at his touch and the fact that he'd traversed the distance so quickly. How had he done it?

Her eyes must be playing tricks on her. She had thought she was farther from him than she had been. That was all, but she hadn't seen him move either. Only a blur and that too was odd. She was sure she'd been watching. Only she must have looked away.

He looked at her like he planned to devour her.

Was he furious about her lie? Had he decided to kill her instead of Talorc? She thought about mentioning that that was sure to upset Cait as well, but that argument hadn't swayed Lachlan in regard to the other woman's brother.

"You do not belong to him, then?" Lachlan asked, his voice rumbling like a predator's growl.

She shook her head. "I am his betrothed."

"But not his wife?"

"No, not his wife."

Lachlan pulled her closer until not even a breath separated their bodies. He was so big and hot, his heat seared her right through her gown and shift. She'd never been held like this. It was indecent, but she could not force sound from her dry throat for a protest. She could barely breathe.

Her breasts pressed against his chest and every time she pulled in a shallow puff of air, they moved in a most disturbing way that made them tingle and ache mysteriously.

Lachlan's eyes were narrowed and fixed on her. He did not look beset by strange feelings from their closeness. "And you told me the truth before, that he has not touched you?"

"Yes." She could barely get the word out.

He said nothing more, but his head descended slowly toward hers, his gaze trapping hers the whole time.

He stopped his mouth hovering just above hers, so close she could feel his warm breath on her lips. A strange kind of fearful excitement shivered through her. Was he going to kiss her then?

She should not want him to. It was wicked, but she did.

Lachlan's lips closed over hers not a second after the thought formed. They were warm and firm, unlike anything she had ever known and she strained upward, needing to feel more.

He made a sound low in his throat, his mouth molding hers. It drew a response from her that was wholly instinctive and she moved her lips in unison with his. It was the most amazing experience she had ever known. Her insides popped and sizzled like a sap-covered log in the fire. She never wanted him to stop kissing her.

In this moment in time, nothing existed that could harm her. No parents who would dismiss their own children as expendable, no angry Sinclair warrior who would send her home only to force her parents to send Abigail in her stead, no Balmoral warriors waiting to carry her to their castle where she would be prisoner.

She was no captive in this moment, but a woman. She had never felt so free and did not think she would ever feel such sensations again. Right or wrong, she wanted to feel them for as long as she could.

His body was so hard against hers, so different from her own… big and powerful, emanating a scent that filled her senses. It was spicy and uniquely male. And it called to something deep inside she could not name, making her feel hollow and empty. Not in a bad way though, not like true hunger for food. No, this felt all too good, as if she had a peculiar hunger only this man could fill. Warmth and an ache connected in some mysterious way to that emptiness pulsed between her legs.

Her hips moved of their own volition, brushing his hard thighs and increasing the maelstrom of feelings storming through her. She didn't understand what was happening to her. It frightened her, but it entranced her as well. She needed to get closer to him. She didn't know how though. Their bodies were as close as two beings could get.

It was not enough.

Her lips parted, softening against his and she could taste him. His flavor was sweeter than honey, which was strange because the man was so far from sweet, but she had never known anything as delicious as Lachlan's kiss.

Craving more of that flavor, she touched his lips with the tip of her tongue. He growled like a hungry wolf, his entire body vibrating with the sound. It shivered through her, too, making her shake and her knees grow weak, but she did not want to stop the kiss.

Far from willing it to end, she wished to do wanton things… to touch him and to be touched by him. She wanted his hands on her face again, cupping her cheeks while he kissed her.

She wanted to feel his skin, imprint his scent and the feel of him on her mind to carry with her into eternity. Her fingers itched to trace the pattern of the tattoo that circled his bicep and then the one of the animal on his back. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair and the dark curls scattered over the sharply defined muscles of his chest and torso.

She allowed herself to press one hand, open palmed, against the front of his chest on the side not covered with his plaid.

Everywhere her skin touched skin, it tingled. It was the oddest sensation she had ever known and it fed the desire burning her insides. It felt as if she were meant to do this, as if she had been born to connect to this man alone.

That could not be true. He was not her intended. She could never be his bride. Tears leaked from behind her eyelids from inexplicable pain at the thought.

She should pull back. She had to stop this before she lost her heart and her honor. Propriety and sanity demanded it, but her heart cried that this was her one chance to taste true desire. Once she was married to Talorc, she could never experience anything like this again. She couldn't. Not with him. Talorc did not smell right… he would not taste right.

Most likely, he would not even kiss her.

He hated her.

How could she belong to a man who hated her?

But her brain insisted that this kiss was still wrong.

Finally, she forced herself to listen and tried to break away from Lachlan, but he responded by moving his grip to her waist and lifting her into more intimate contact with his big body. The apex of her thighs met a hard ridge and with a groan, he pressed her against it. Pleasure suffused her on a wave of such overwhelming delight, she cried out against his lips.