Rebellion & In From The Cold (16 page)

“No.” He reached over to toy with the ends of her hair. “Would you have it stopped, Serena?”

She sighed, opening her eyes to watch the wispy clouds chased by the wind. “Part of me hates not being able to take a sword and fight myself. Yet another part, a part that seems to have just begun, wishes there was no need to fight at all. That part of me wishes we could go on living as we have been, watching the flowers come up in the spring.”

He took her hand. It was too fragile to hold a sword, he thought, however strong her heart. “There will still be flowers. And there will be other springs.”

She turned her head to look at him. It hadn’t occurred to her that she was relaxed with him, content, even happy to be alone with him on the banks of the lake. It was her favorite place, one she came to when she was deeply troubled or very happy. Now she was there with him, and it seemed so right, somehow—the gentle call of birds, the smell of the water and damp earth, the almost harsh light of the sun.

Her fingers curled into his in a move so instinctive that she didn’t know she had done it until it was too late, until the change had come into his eyes, the subtle darkening, the sharpening of intensity. It was as if in one instant the rest of the world had slipped out of its orbit and only they were left, hands linked, eyes only for each other.

“No.” Quickly she pushed herself up so that she was sitting rather than lying on the bank. It had seemed a move of self-preservation, but it was a poor one, as it only put them closer together. Brigham reached out to trace the line of her jaw.

“I could let you go, Rena. It wouldn’t change what’s between us.”

“There can be nothing between us.”

“Stubborn.” He nipped her lower lip. “Willful.” Then he traced the ache with his tongue. “Beautiful.”

“I’m none of those things.” She lifted a hand, thinking to push him away, but somehow she was clutching his jacket.

“You’re all of them.” He bit gently at her jaw, making her eyes widen in confused desire. His lips curved at her reaction. She would be a joy in bed. Slowly, almost leisurely, he shifted to nibble her earlobe.

“Don’t.”

“I’ve waited for days to have five minutes alone with you and do just this.” He dipped his tongue into her ear so that both pleasure and heat rippled through her. “There is nothing more I want than to make love with you, Serena. Every inch of you.”

“I can’t. You can’t.”

“You can,” he murmured. “We will.” He teased her lips apart with his.

For a moment she luxuriated in it, the feel of his lips on hers. The rightness of it. But it couldn’t be right. It would never be right. “Please, stop. It’s wrong for you to speak that way to me. It’s wrong to—I can’t think.”

“Don’t think.” Suddenly he gripped her by the shoulders so that they were again face-to-face. “Feel. Just feel. And show me.”

Her head was spinning, with longings, with warnings. With a moan, she dragged his mouth to hers. It was wrong. It was madness. But she couldn’t resist. When he touched her, she wanted only for him to go on touching her. When he kissed her, she felt she might die from the pleasure of it. To be wanted like this was its own kind of torment. She could feel his desire for her in the way his fingers gripped, in the way his mouth devoured. With each passing second she could feel her will drain until she knew there would come a time when she would give everything to him.

He covered her heart with his hand, aroused to desperation by its pounding. For him. Unable to resist, he traced his fingers over her curves, trailing his lips down her throat, then up again, to find her lips warmed and waiting for his.

“My God, Serena, how I want you.” His breath ragged, he pushed her away to stare at her flushed face. “Can you understand?”

“Aye.” Her hand was shaking as she lifted it to her throat. “I need time to think.”

“We need time to talk.” Very carefully he released her, only just realizing how hard his fingers had dug into her arms. He heard the sound of approaching horses and swore. “Every time I’m alone with you I end up kissing you. We won’t get any talking done this way. I need you to understand how I feel, and what I want for us.”

She thought she did. And to her shame, and her excitement, she knew she was close to agreeing. He wanted her, and she would be his lover. It would be the most precious moment of her life. And then he would offer to make an arrangement. As his mistress, she would be well provided for, well housed, well clothed, well attended. And miserable. If she found the strength to refuse him, she would retain her pride, and she would be even more miserable.

“There’s no need to talk. I understand.” She rose to brush off her skirts. “I simply need time to think about it.”

He took her hand, knowing they had only moments to be alone. “Do you love me?”

She closed her eyes, wishing she could hate him for asking what he must already know. “That isn’t the only question to be answered, Brigham.”

He dropped her hand and stepped back, his eyes cold again. “We’re back to that, are we? I’m English, and no matter what you may feel for me, no matter what we can bring to each other, you won’t forget it.”

“Can’t,” she corrected, and wanted to weep. “No, I can’t forget who you are, what you are, any more than I can forget who and what I am. I need time to see if I can live with what you want from me.”

“Very well.” He inclined his head. “You’ll have time. But remember this, Serena. I won’t beg you.”

“It’s going to be a beautiful ball.” Maggie balanced on the rung of a ladder and polished the topmost corner of a mirror. The servants, under Fiona’s eagle eye, were turning the house inside out. Family was expected to do no less. “Everything will be perfect, Rena. You’ll see. The music, the lights—”

“And Coll,” Serena added, rubbing her cloth over the arm of a chair.

“Especially Coll.” Smiling, Maggie looked down over her shoulder. “He’s already asked me for the first dance.”

“That comes as no surprise.”

“He was so sweet when he asked,” Maggie murmured, peering closer to the mirror to give her face a careful study. She was terrified that the long, sunny rides she had indulged in would bring out freckles that Coll would despise. “I wanted to tell him there was no one else I wanted to dance with at all, but I knew that would make him go red and stutter.”

“I don’t remember ever hearing Coll stutter until you came to visit.”

“I know.” Maggie bit her lip in delight. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

A sarcastic response faded from her mind when Serena looked up at Maggie’s beaming face. “Aye. He’s fallen in love with you, and I’ve no doubt it’s the finest thing that has ever happened to him.”

“Not just because you’re my friend?” Maggie asked anxiously.

“No, because he looks happier whenever you’re in the room.”

Maggie felt tears sting her eyes, then blinked them away. She didn’t want them red and puffy if Coll happened in. She was still floating in the fantasy that her love should see her as nothing less than perfect.

“Remember years ago when we promised each other we’d be sisters one day?”

“Of course. You would marry Coll and I would marry whichever of your cousins I—” With the cloth dangling from her fingers, Serena looked up. “Oh, Maggie, never say Coll has made an offer?”

“Not yet.” Maggie tucked a loose curl back in her cap. For a moment she got the stubborn line between her brows her father would have recognized very well. “But he will. Rena, it can’t just be wishful thinking. I love him so much.”

“Are you certain?” Rising, Serena crossed over to lay a hand on Maggie’s skirt. “We were only children when we talked that way. I know you had your heart set on him, but you’re not a child anymore, and Coll’s a man.”

“It
is
different.” With a sigh, Maggie rubbed at a spot on the mirror. “When we were children I would think of him as a prince.”

“Coll?” Serena couldn’t prevent a sisterly snort.

“He was so tall and bonny. I imagined him fighting duels over me, sweeping me up on his horse and carrying me off.” Laughing a little, she stepped down a rung. “But now, these past few weeks, being around him has made me see him in a whole new way. He’s a steady man, dependable, gentle, even shy in his way. Oh, I know he has a temper and can be reckless, but that’s the part that makes him exciting, as well as steady. He’s not a prince, Rena, and I love him more than I ever knew I could.”

“Has he kissed you?” Serena asked, thinking that Brigham was more like Maggie’s childhood vision of Coll. The earl of Ashburn was a man for duels and carrying off.

“No.” Maggie pouted for a moment over it, knowing it was wrong to wish he had just once taken
command of her. “I think he was about to once, but Malcolm came in.” Maggie fluttered her hands. “Do you think it’s wrong for me to want him to?”

“No.” Serena’s answer was flat and honest, but Maggie was dreaming and didn’t notice the tone.

“I miss my mother more now than when she died,” Maggie mused. “Not being able to talk to her about all of this. To ask her if being with my father ever made her feel as though her heart had turned upside down. Tell me the truth, Serena, do you really think he loves me?”

“I’ve never seen him act so stupid around anyone else. Stammering, going around dreamy eyed and slack mouthed. Whenever he looks at you he either goes pale or colors up.”

“Truly?” Maggie clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, but the man’s slow. I’ll go mad soon if he doesn’t stop looking and take.”

“Maggie!” Though her laughter was scandalized, Serena gave her friend a careful study. “You wouldn’t, well, agree to more than a kiss?”

“I don’t know.” Her color was high as she stepped down another rung. “The only thing I’m sure of is if he doesn’t declare himself soon, I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

Fascinated, Serena tilted her head. “How?”

“I—” Maggie stopped at the sound of approaching footsteps. Her heart fluttered once, making her certain it was Coll even before he swung into the room. On impulse, she let her foot slip off the rung and gasped in alarm as she tumbled the last few feet toward the polished floor.

Serena reached out, but Coll took the distance in a leap and caught Maggie around the waist. He had only a fleeting sensation of how tiny she was before he was swamped with concern.

“There now, lassie, have you hurt yourself?”

“How clumsy of me,” she managed over the lump in her throat as she stared up into his wide, rugged face. If Serena had asked her now if she would agree to more than a kiss, her answer would have been yes, a hundred times yes.

“Nonsense.” Overwhelmed by tenderness, he held her gently. “A little slip of a girl like you shouldn’t be climbing ladders.”

Suddenly afraid he might bruise her with his big, clumsy hands, he started to set her down. Drastic desires called for drastic measures, Maggie thought, and she let out a muffled cry as her foot touched the ground. Instantly she was gathered in Coll’s arms again. She nearly swooned in earnest when she felt the rapid beat of his heart against hers.

“You have hurt yourself? Shall I call Gwen?”

“Oh, no! If I could just sit for a moment …” She fluttered her lashes and was rewarded when Coll swept her up and carried her to a chair. It took him only six steps, but he had never felt more of a man.

“You’re a bit pale, Maggie. A little water should help.” He was up and striding out before she could think of an excuse to keep him.

“How badly does it hurt?” Serena had already knelt by her feet. “Oh, Maggie, it would be so unfair if you couldn’t dance tomorrow.”

“I’ll dance. And I’ll dance with Coll.”

“But if you’ve sprained your ankle—”

“There’s not a thing wrong with my ankle. Don’t be silly.” To prove it, she sprang up and did a quick, laughing dance step.

“Why, Margaret MacDonald. You lied to him.”

“No such thing.” She sat again, careful to arrange her skirts in their most flattering folds. “He assumed I’d hurt myself, I never said so. Oh, Rena, how is my hair? It must be a mess.”

“You fell on purpose.”

“Aye.” Maggie’s face glowed with triumph. “And it worked.”

Disgusted, Serena sat back on her heels. “That’s nothing but a trick, and a demeaning one at that.”

“It’s not a trick, or only a small one, and there’s nothing demeaning about it.” She touched a hand to her cheek where Coll’s beard had tickled her. “It was simply a way to make him feel as though I needed tending. A man doesn’t fall in love with a woman who’s a packhorse, you know. If it makes him feel good to think of me as a bit helpless and fragile, what’s the harm?”

Serena chewed over that one, remembering the time Brigham had raised his sword for her when he’d thought she had been attacked. If she had acted a little more … fragile … With a shake of her head, she told herself that was for Maggie, not for her.

“None, I suppose.”

“When a man’s shy, he needs a bit of a push. There, he’s coming back.” She gripped Serena’s hands and squeezed. “If you could leave us alone for just a little while.”

“I will, but … It almost seems as though he hasn’t a chance.”

Her smile spread. “I hope not.”

“Here now.” Coll knelt beside her and offered a cup. “Drink a little.”

“Perhaps I’ll go fetch Gwen,” Serena said as she rose. Neither Maggie nor Coll spared her a glance. “And perhaps I won’t,” she murmured, and left them alone.

Coll took Maggie’s hand in his. It seemed so soft, so tiny. He felt like a bear hulking over a dove. “Are you in much pain, Maggie?”

“No, it’s nothing.” She looked at him from under her lashes, amazed to find herself as stricken with shyness as he. “You don’t need to fuss, Coll.”

Looking at her, he was reminded of one of the beautiful porcelain dolls he had seen in Italy. His need to touch her was as great as his fear that he would bruise her. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be quick enough to catch you.”

“So was I.” Daringly, she laid her hand on his. “Do you remember, years ago, I fell in the forest and tore my dress?”

“Aye.” He had to swallow. “I laughed at you. You must have hated me.”

“No, I could never hate you.” Her fingers curled into his. “I must have been a dreadful nuisance.” She drew together her courage and looked up. “Am I still?”