The Highlander's Temptation (16 page)

“Ye nearly gave me a heart attack. What were ye thinking?”

All the laughter faded from her eyes and she glanced away. “Ye’re just the same as my family. None of them understand me either.”

“Lass, ’tis not that.
I was amazed by ye, stunned. Ye handled your horse well, and your balance…” He raked a wet hand through his hair. “Truth be told, ye reminded me of a warrior goddess. Beautiful, confident and skilled. I just wish ye’d give me fair warning. ’Twas a dangerous trick ye pulled and ye’re lucky ye fell into the water. What if ye’d fallen on a rock and cracked your head open? Or broken your neck?”

Fuming, she turned on him. “’Tis your fault, ye cad. I’ve not fallen off Angel in years. We practice that
move at least twice a week.”

“Twice a week?” He thought he might keel over right then.

“Aye.” She chewed her lip. “’Haps I should nay have shown ye. I didna realize ye’d have such a fit over it.”

Lorna sounded so downtrodden, Jamie couldn’t help but stroke his hand over her cheek, threading the tips of his fingers into her damp hair. With his other hand he tilted her chin up so that she looked at hm.

“I was scared,” he admitted. “Ye dinna realize…” Lord he couldn’t confess to her what she meant to him. “The thought of ye falling or being injured tore me apart inside. I could nay live with myself if something happened to ye when I could prevent it.”

“I relish the freedom of riding, Jamie. I love the feel of the wind in my hair, the thrill and excitement of doing something daring.” She chewed her lip. “Any man is going to frown upon it. To stifle me.”

Jamie smiled, choosing to tease her. “Any woman, too.”

She rolled her eyes.
“Ye know what I mean.”

“Aye, lass, I know what ye mean. Ye’ve such spirit, such fire, it should never be stifled.
I’d never suppress ye. ’Tis one of the things I adore about ye.”

Hope that neither of them should possess sparked in her eyes. “MacKinnon will stifle me.”

“Let us not talk of MacKinnon,” he grumbled.

“Why? I’m to marry him.”

“Dinna remind me.”

“Tell me, Jamie. Tell me why ye dinna want me to marry MacKinnon.”

Jamie growled, slipped his hands over her hips and tugged her close to him, feeling the warmth of her body slide against his and not caring that his hardened body told her exactly how much he desired her. “Because, I’d have ye for myself.”

And then he kissed her. His lips crashed over hers in a torrent
fiercer than the swirling waters. A kiss that claimed her as his own, even when he knew she was so far from being within his grasp it made his heart ache.

Chapter Fifteen

Lorna allowed herself to be swept up into the passion and pleasure of Jamie’s kiss. There was no sea lapping at her feet, no gulls screeching overhead, simply the two of them and their mouths pressed hotly together.

She wrapped her arms around his middle, fingers splaying over the muscles of his back. A strong, sturdy back. Her nipples hardened, tingling and tugging at something within her. What was the power that Jamie wielded over her? Whenever he was near, she could barely think straight, and as soon as his lips touched hers, she was done for.

With his mouth taking control of hers, his lips sliding in a sensual rhythm, tongue gently exploring, Lorna was fairly certain she never wanted to come up for air. She sighed, and that little sound seemed to knock something within Jamie. His hands went from her face, down over her neck, shoulders, arms, and then burned a path around her waist until they both cupped her buttocks.

Jamie growled against her lips as he lifted her up on her tiptoes, tucking her length against his own. A sharp gasp escaped her as the rigidness of his arousal pressed indecently, and oh-so-deliciously to the very heated part of herself that had seemed to come alive the moment they met. She couldn’t help rubbing wantonly against him, enjoying decadent frissons of pleasure as they radiated through her.

One thing was certain, she’d never be able to look at the beach again without feeling his strong hands on her behind, nor the feel of his thick erection nestled at the juncture of her thighs.

Feeling bold, Lorna let her own hands trail lower from the small of his back to the taut muscles of his behind. Thick muscle, hard, and yet pliant. She gripped him tight, reveling
in the differences of their bodies. Jamie groaned, kissed her harder. The sound he made, the primal passion of his kiss, it took her over the edge. She wasn’t sure she could come back from where she was. It was a swirling, tumbling, chaotic mass of emotions and bliss-filled sensations.

Aye, she didn’t want this to end. Not now. Not ever. If
they never parted, she’d die content with her lips on his.

“Lorna,” Jamie murmured, sliding his lips
along her cheek.

She let out a little moan of displeasure, turned her face to follow his lips, but ended on a gasp when he trailed a hot path to the sensitive part beneath her ear. Oh, aye, that, too
, was lovely.

Nibbling on the lobe of her ear before sliding his tongue over the shell of her ear, she couldn’t help but wonder how much more pleasure there could be with a kiss, with touching. It seemed that the more he kissed her, caressed her, the more pleasure she received. Like being intoxicated, only better, because on the morrow she’d not wake with a headache that only Cook’s special brew could heal.

Her mood was quickly soured when she realized what kind of ache she’d end up with—heartbreak. In the morning, she’d still be betrothed to MacKinnon, and Jamie would still be heading back south after he reached a deal on wool with her brother.

The torturous thoughts were enough to make her pull back from Jamie a little. She stared into his
heavily lidded eyes, searching for what, she didn’t know—answers. Promises.

His eyes held many promises. Promises of more delicious kisses. Promises of pleasure. Promises that if she stayed right there, he’d fill her body with the wondrous heat he’d already given her.

Jamie dipped his head, touched his nose to hers. “What’s pulled ye away?” he whispered.

Lorna gave a sad smile, bringing her hands up to his waist and clinging to the dampened fabric of his
leine
shirt. “The real world.”

Jamie softly chuckled. “Och, the real world is for fools.”

“Said a fool himself,” she teased back.

Large, warm hands found their way up to h
er shoulder blades, massaging the taut muscles along her spine that suddenly felt pinched. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the release of tension, the closeness of his embrace.

“I’m only a fool
, it would seem, when it comes to desiring a woman pledged to another.”

Lorna glanced up at Jamie, taking in his chiseled from stone features. He was hard, proud, and devastatingly handsome. A shadow
of facial hair had started to grow on his face. She reached up, tracing the line of his jaw and feeling the stubble tickle against her fingertips. “’Tis not yet set in stone.” Her voice came out soft, nearly a whisper. She couldn’t trust her own words, nor his reaction to them, for she wanted desperately for Jamie to agree. To storm back into Dunrobin and demand that her brother break whatever negotiations he’d begun with MacKinnon.

“’Tis not as easy as all that,” he said. “MacKinnon has pledged—”

Lorna couldn’t still her tongue. “He’s pledged himself to Wallace and to the cause.”

Jamie’s hands dropped from her back. They may have been the wrong words to utter, but they were the right words to her. Words he needed to hear.
Jamie was being a stubborn arse and if he couldn’t see that, then she needed to point it out. He himself had just said that he wanted her for himself. That he couldn’t stay away. The same was true for her. And their kiss was any indication, then they
should
be together, alliances, negotiations and contracts be damned.

“If MacKinnon is a man of honor, he would not cease his fealty to Scotland simply because another had fallen for the
woman he plans to marry, but has not even had the temerity to come and visit. Has it occurred to ye that he does not even wish to marry me? But does so only for some other reason? Would not a man wish to meet the woman he was to wed? He visited Dunrobin weeks ago and not once did he ask to see me.”

“What reason could there be? Ye are the very woman a man dreams of being his wife.”

Lorna snorted a laugh, thinking of every fault she had. “Ye are mistaken, Jamie. Blinded by my kiss.” The latter she added in jest, hoping to regain his attention. “Anything that MacKinnon would have heard of me would most likely be about my willful spirit and ability to escape my guards.”

He just shook his head,
the muscle in his jaw clenching, nostrils flared. ’Twas obvious he was struggling inside. Just as she was. Lorna had a hard time not pummeling him with her fists. Why would he not see reason in this? He desired her. Cared for her. All that was obvious. Wasn’t the logical thing to do, to petition her brother to consider his own offer over MacKinnon?

“Jamie…” How could she convince him? And just as suddenly as the question popped in
to her mind, anger consumed her. She shouldn’t have to convince him they were meant to be together. Either he wanted it or he didn’t. And he couldn’t kiss her anymore if he wasn’t willing to move beyond this beach with a sense of reason. “I need to get back to the castle. I’ve been gone long enough.”

She didn’t wait for his response, but
disentangled herself from his embrace and grabbed Angel’s reins. Her horse nuzzled her arm, and Lorna whispered a sweet word of encouragement. She’d just put a foot in the stirrup when Jamie’s fingers wrapped softly around her upper arm.

“Wait,” he said.

Lorna stilled, unable to move for fear he wouldn’t speak. She even kept her foot within the stirrup. Chewing on her lip she stared at the ancient Celtic swirls sewn into the leather of her saddle.

“Ye are right, Lorna. I am blinded when it comes to ye. Willing to give up everything. Willing to risk an alliance in order to have ye for myself.
But ye see, that is the problem—I canna give up the alliances. I am first and foremost a man of my country. Wallace and the council entrusted me with this, not to destroy alliances with MacKinnon and Sutherland in one day. Ye have to understand that.”

Lorna pulled her foot from the saddle and turned to face Jamie. His eyes pleaded with her, his lips firmed into a thin line. She could turn away now, go back to the castle, forever giving up on Jamie as anything more than an alliance to her family, to the man she was to wed. But Lorna wasn’t willing to give up just yet. He meant too much to her to simply walk away.
As much as she wished to slap some sense into him, perhaps Jamie needed a gentler hand to guide him toward the right path.

’Twas obvious Jamie was not
yet ready to cross the threshold of simple kisses to something deeper, and if she were honest with herself, she wasn’t ready yet either. Not that her brother had really given her a choice. But if there was something there… Well, she wasn’t willing to give up on that either.

Magnus would be furious with her, and while she could deal with his irritation for simple things, his fury over a lifelong decision would be extremely difficult.
Better to ease both these stubborn mules onto the proper path.

Lorna thrust her hand forward and jutted out her chin. “To friendship.”

Jamie stared at her hand, his face flat, making her long to know what was in his mind.

At last he
took her hand in his, sliding upward over her forearm. Shivers passed over her, but she thrust them aside. Now was not the time for a physical reaction. She had to be smart about this if she was going to get Jamie and Magnus to see reason.

He squeezed her arm.
“To friendship.” His voice was soft, defeated almost, something else she chose to ignore.

A soft knock sounded at Lorna’s door just before dinner. She opened it to find Heather standing outside in the corridor.

“What is it?” Lorna asked, feeling exhausted from the emotional turmoil she was putting herself through.

Heather screwed up her face in
to a frown, and pushed into the room. “No need for such sourness, sister. Aunt Sourpuss has enough bitter for the both of us.”

Lorna rolled her eyes and shut the door. She headed back toward her wardrobe, staring at the gowns that hung there. She’d found it hard to pick out what to wear this evening. Normally, she wouldn’t care so much, but for some reason, she felt that it mattered. If she chose something too beautiful, it would be misconstrued. If she chose something too plain—yet again, it would be taken out of context.

Maybe she should just have her meal brought to her room. But if she did that, then she’d not be able to move forward with her vow to make the men in her life see reason.

“Ye’ve been moping around all day,” Heather said. “What’s happened?”

Heather plopped onto Lorna’s bed, fluffed the pillows and sat back on it, elbows bent and hands behind her head like she was in her own chamber. Lorna happened to love that her sister felt so comfortable with her. Despite the hellion that Heather was, it meant much to Lorna that they were so close.

“Magnus told me something dreadful,” Lorna confessed.

Heather’s face fell. “Does this have to do with MacOwen?”

Lorna smiled bitterly. “Sort of. Though ’tis not MacOwen.”

“Who then? Is it Montgomery? He is handsome.” Heather smiled and sighed.

Lorna blew out a breath and tugged the green wool
gown with the Sutherland plaid sash from the wardrobe. Plain, but elegant.

“No, the blue,” Heather said.

Lorna shook her head. “’Tis not Montgomery.”

“Oh.” Heather sounded uncertain. “But I thought…”

“Ye thought wrong.”

“There’s no need for ye to be so angry with me, sister, I’ve done nothing to ye.”