Sweet Temptation (28 page)

But she remembered the night she had spent in his arms in Edinburgh, and knew that wasn’t so. Something had cut him off from her, was blocking her approach to him. She knew that if only she could find the key, somewhere inside him there was an entirely different man with an infinite capacity for love. And she would find it some day, but she was beginning to wonder if she would still care.

Gavin surveyed the men gathered around him, their bodies torpid from feasting and their faces flushed with drink, and was almost tempted to leave and go back home to Sara. He could still see her as she had appeared at dinner, and he had to hold on to his chair to keep from leaping to his feet and calling for his horse. Even to sit with her, to be able to watch her as she worked her needlepoint, or listen as she played the harpsichord, would have been a balm to his lacerated soul. He knew that to spend a whole evening with Sara was inviting disaster, but he didn’t care anymore. There were times when he thought he would willingly mortgage his soul for a few hours spent in her arms.

Gavin had been at his most persuasive this evening. He had come to the Fraser clan, to Ian’s father to be precise, but his words had fallen on deaf ears. Donald Fraser, the old laird, was just as committed to the prince as his son, and nothing could sway him. Why did he keep trying? Why did he think he could change, in a few months, loyalties that went back hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years.

“It’s no use being faithful to the Stuarts, when it’s going to ruin your clan,” he had argued in utter frustration.

“And ‘tis no good yer telling me tae turn my back on my loyalties,” Donald Fraser had replied. “Tis the same as telling me tae turn my back on me own people.”

“They may eat you out of house and home, but they won’t get you killed. Why persist in a lost cause?”

“Who’s tae say ‘tis lost?”

“You know it is. No matter how many victories the Prince wins, he has nowhere to go for replacements when his troops are used up, no one has any proper military training, and he has no money to buy guns or ammunition. Cumberland has all three, and more besides. Hell, our men can’t even hit a target with a gun.”

“Ye canna understand that we’re willing to die for our loyalty.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand it. If you told me you were fighting for the good of your people, I would understand. If you told me you were fighting for independence from England, I might join you, and we might have a chance to win, but as long as you fight in the name of a pretender king, you’ll only exchange one parasitic monarch for another. And I doubt you’ll be any better off under your bonnie prince, for all his youth and charm. The Stuarts have always held to their divine right to be kings, and this young man has a full dose of the fever.”

“But he
is
divinely ordained,” insisted Donald Fraser. “He goes back to James I in an unbroken line!”

“You’re forgetting that England has twice rid herself of Stuarts from this line, and at the third opportunity, they chose a German instead. England will never allow them back.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m afraid we shall.”

There was a disturbance outside the room, and the door was opened to allow in a buxom young maid with flaming red hair spilling down her back who boldly scanned the gathering until her eyes settled on Gavin.

“Oich, I knew ye were here,” she called, entering the room like a whirlwind and slapping Gavin with a huge kiss as he hastily rose to his feet. “My body always knows when ye are about.”

Donald Fraser chuckled. “The lassie is nothing if no’ direct. I’d beat her if she were mine, but I’ll no’ tell my brother how tae raise his child.”

“I heard ye were back from London, but ye were off again before I could find ye.”

“I had to go to Glasgow on business.”

“And to bring back a wife,” added Donald Fraser.

“Oich!” exclaimed Colleen, bounding up from where she had settled on Gavin’s lap. “I heard ye were married tae a wheyfaced virgin who ran at the sight o’ yer rod.” She laughed lustily. “She ran the wrong way.” She laughed again, but when Gavin didn’t join her, she sobered quickly enough. “She’d better be Scottish,” said Colleen, hand on her hips, a challenging look in her eye.

“She is, but she has lived in London all her life.”

“Weren’t nobody here good enough for ye? I’ll bet she has white skin, no breasts, and lies rigid under you, holding her breath the whole time.”

Gavin remembered Sara’s far from cold response in Edinburgh and flushed. Colleen took that for an admission, and he didn’t tell her otherwise.

“Why could ye no’ find yerself some Scottish lassie tae marry with ye?”

“Likely none
rich
enough,” Fraser said, before Gavin could speak. “She’s an heiress I heard.”

“No thin-blooded heiress can keep a man like ye satisfied,” Colleen said suggestively.

“Maybe not, but ye can’t expect him tae admit it in front of a lot o’ chattering witnesses, can ye?” asked Fraser with twinkling eyes, as Gavin removed Colleen’s arms from around his neck, her lips from his mouth, and her buttocks from his lap.

“I still say you’re making a mistake supporting the Prince,” Gavin said, deciding to take his leave before Colleen could make any more advances.

“Only time will tell,” Fraser replied.

“And I say be done with all this talk o’ war and have some ale,” Colleen encouraged them both. “Tis all I ever hear, and I’m sick of it.”

“You’ll hear a lot more before it’s over.”

“I’ll be here when you get tired of the ice maiden,” Colleen whispered to Gavin as he started to leave.

“You might find yourself waiting a long time.”

Colleen looked startled at Gavin’s words, and then angry at Fraser’s crack of laughter, but she quickly recovered her control.

“Are ye telling me she’s as well-favored as I am?” she asked, rubbing her buxom figure suggestively against Gavin.

“No,” Gavin replied, with a reminiscent smile that worried Colleen more than any of his words. “She’s slender enough to please even my father.”

But Gavin wasn’t smiling as he climbed into the saddle, nor was it because of his father. He was stunned to realize that he hadn’t been the least interested in Colleen. In fact, he hadn’t even thought of her since he got back from Glasgow. It took a few minutes to absorb that shock, but it took the rest of the ride home to admit it was all because of Sara.

Colleen had not been his mistress exactly, but she was a lusty wench with a robust appetite and a great appreciation for Gavin’s body. She had fallen into the habit of thinking of him as hers alone when he was in Scotland, and he had unthinkingly acquiesced. But now he was suddenly unmoved by her charms, so unmoved that he had not the slightest desire to seek her out, or allow her to seek him out.

His arrival at Estameer interrupted his train of thought, but it returned to Sara the moment his valet left his room. He had been haunted by her ever since that first night in London. At first it had been guilt—guilt had been one of the reasons he had slept with her in Edinburgh—but he had had time since to learn that guilt had been the least important reason of all. Now he was obsessed by an almost overmastering desire to experience her body once again. If that had been all, he wouldn’t have hesitated any more than he would have with his mistresses, but he recognized a different quality in the feeling he felt for her, and he foresaw in that emotional response the strangling net of love. No matter what the sacrifice, he had sworn he would not allow himself to be caught in the same mesh that had made his mother’s life a living hell.

Gavin drew the cord of his dressing gown with an oath and poured himself some brandy. More than once, he had almost persuaded himself he could enjoy Sara’s body without endangering his soul, only to catch himself at the last minute. There was something about Sara that defied a limited involvement, and he had tried hard not to feel drawn to her, but once he had married her, once he had taken her into his home, it was impossible to remain indifferent. Even worse, he found he didn’t want to.

Gavin sat down in his chair so abruptly he spilled some brandy, but he was too absorbed to notice. The defenses he had built over the years—defenses which had never been threatened until now—were in danger of being breached. His instincts told him to run, to escape before it was too late, but he could not, he would not. He would not because having married Sara and discovered she was in love with him, or at least thought she was, he could not desert her. She may have made a mistake, but she hadn’t known it at the time. He had, and he owed her something for selfishly allowing her to link her future with his.

He would not turn his back on her because he simply
could not.
Struggle though he would, there was something that drew him to Sara, something of fascination, something of lust, and something more pure and exhilarating than anything he had ever experienced.

Gavin’s eyes were drawn to the door that linked their rooms, and he could feel a force, physical in its strength, pulling him toward that door, to the unspoiled and loving woman who slept beyond, the woman who would undoubtedly welcome him into her arms.
His wife!
Gavin broke out in a cold sweat. He took another swallow of brandy, but it didn’t help. With another oath, he surged out of his chair, grabbed up the candle at his bedside, and stumbled over to the door. It wasn’t locked. He knew it wouldn’t be. He forced himself to pause with his hand on the knob, but almost by itself, the handle turned and the door swung open.

Sara slept in a large bed on a raised dais in the center of the room. The room was plunged into Stygian darkness, but the feeble shafts of light from his single candle found her, and drew Gavin to her bedside on silent feet.

The light fell on the bed, illuminating the deep shadows, revealing Sara lying on her side, her head resting in the crook of her arm. The light must have bothered her for she turned restlessly on her back and faced away from the flickering beams, one arm flung out from her. Gavin froze, the candle high above his head; she turned back toward him and was still.

Gavin stood transfixed by the serene loveliness before him, his body straining to reach out and touch her, his mind determined to keep to its vow to evade the clutches of her attractions. Her hair billowed away from her head in masses of red blond curls, framing the pale white of her skin. He had never known she had so much hair, or that it rioted in such a wealth of curls. She usually kept it confined under a cap, but he found he preferred it loose. It made her look younger, more innocent, more in need of his care.

His eyes studied her face, memorizing every detail. He longed to reach out and touch those lips. He remembered their sweetness, could feel the softness of her skin. One hand moved forward and hovered over her lips. Slowly and with great effort, he drew it back. She might wake to his touch, and hungry as he was to console himself with her body, the thought of having to explain why she should find him standing over her with a naked look of desire in his eyes gave him the resolution to draw back.

Even though it was winter, the neck of her gown was open, and he could see the column of her throat as it disappeared beyond the heavy cotton. A vivid picture of her body as it lay before him that night in Edinburgh sprang into his mind causing his body to ache and lurch in a spasm of desire. A drop of wax from the trembling candle fell on the pillow next to her hair, and Gavin hurriedly drew back.

He must leave, run out of the room before he lost control, or burn them both with a raging desire hotter even than the wax of the candle. Stiffly, with hesitant steps, Gavin backed away from the bed until he was across the room, through the door, and back into his own room. Then, desperately, like a man stumbling to reach his first water in days, Gavin staggered over to the chest, searched until he found the key, and locking the door, flung the key from him. It landed somewhere with a dull thud. The tension went out of his body and he sagged against the wall, breathing deeply. He drove from his mind the wailing voice that urged him to find the key and open the door once more; he ignored the heated blood that raced through his veins and burned like the fangs of a thousand serpents.

Agony worse than anything he had ever experienced or imagined, more than he could resist, racked his body. He took a deep breath and, walking unsteadily past his welcoming bed, threw open the casement windows. A raw January cold swept into the room; Gavin opened his dressing gown and let the freezing air pour over his body, until he shook uncontrollably. But he couldn’t tell whether he trembled from the icy cold outside his body, or the scorching flame inside. With another oath, he flung himself on the bed, hoping sleep would give him at least a temporary release from his misery.

He had to do something soon. He couldn’t stand to have Sara studying so hard to become the kind of wife he wanted, loving him without censure, looking more alluring than any female he knew, and continue to ignore her. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. Moreover, it wasn’t possible. He felt his resistance waver more each day, and unless he was ready to take what she offered, without giving the promises she wanted in exchange, he had to get away.

He lay awake for most of the night thinking of her smile and the smell of roses, but never did he think of how to leave her.

Chapter 18

Gavin was waiting for Sara when she came down. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him standing there in the candlelight staring up at her, and there was a perceptible pause before she continued down the staircase. Would she ever be able to look upon his handsome features or disturbing body without feeling the rush of adrenalin that made her pulse race? Even now, after weeks of living in the same house with him, he took her breath away each time she saw him. No wonder she still felt like a new bride.