The Hunter (38 page)

Ewen had reached the end of his restraint. Whatever control he thought he had vanished in the wake of her release. He’d wanted to drive her crazy and make her ready for him; he just hadn’t anticipated what it would do to him.

It was the most erotic experience of his life. He’d never tasted a woman so fully before. Never had his mouth on her as she broke apart. Never felt so connected as the spasms of pleasure reverberated through her body. She gave herself so freely and completely.

He couldn’t wait another minute.

Mumbling some kind of apology, he levered his body over hers. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed hard in anticipation as he fought to hold himself steady. To go slow.

Her eyes lifted to his. He felt a click. It was as if something shifted in his chest and locked into place.

Her eyes flickered down and widened. He followed the line of her gaze and saw what she did: a very intimidating-sized erection. He wanted to give her some kind of reassurance, to tell her it was going to be okay, but truth be told, even if he could manage to grunt a few words right now, he wasn’t sure how much this was going to hurt. Even soft and wet from her release, she was still small and tight, and he was big and hard.
Very
big and very hard.

Just thinking about it made him pulse. He fought the urge to throw his head back and surge inside.

But it was a battle he lost. His cock was too hard, her slick, warm entrance too inviting, and whatever control he’d had fled the moment he rubbed his sensitive head against her silky dampness. Holding her gaze, he started to press inside, inch by inch, but the intimacy was too intense, the emotions too powerful. It was too much. The gentle nudge became a quick plunge as he possessed her fully, binding her to him in a way that could not be undone.

He let out a groan of pure, primitive satisfaction, overwhelmed by a sensation of relief and something else. The only way to describe it was utter rightness. As if he was where he belonged. As if he’d found his destiny.

Her soft cry of pain broke through some of his haze. But it was too late. Too late for recriminations. Too late to change his mind. Too late to take it back—he’d gone too far, he couldn’t pull back now even if he wanted to. She was his.

At least for the moment.

He clenched his teeth, holding himself stone still, wanting to give her time to adjust to the feel of him. But it felt too good. She was tight and hot, gripping him like a damned glove, and every instinct in his body screamed to move.

He stole a glance down at her, surprised to see her eyes not squeezed shut, but looking at him with the emotion that she’d forced him to acknowledge.

Love
. His chest squeezed. A wave of tenderness crashed over him. He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled. “For what?”

For so many things. “I hurt you.”

“It isn’t so bad … now.”

As if to prove her words, she moved, sending a hot swell
of pleasure surging to the tip of him. He groaned, unable to resist the primitive instinct to respond with a movement of his own. A tight, quick nudge.

She winced.

He cursed. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m trying not to move, but you just feel so good, it’s killing me.”

Given how much pain he was in at the moment, the smile that spread across her face wasn’t exactly appreciated. “I do? I am?”

He gave her a sharp glare, his teeth clenched tightly. “You don’t need to be so pleased about it.”

Her smile became even broader.

He leaned down to kiss her again, the movement making him sink deeper.

She gasped, but this time not with pain. Their eyes met. “Oh! That felt …”

He knew how it felt. It felt incredible. He moved again, drawing out just a little bit and sinking back in. Her eyes widened. “Oh …” Again. “Oh!”

When she circled her arms around his neck to hold on tighter, it was all the invitation he needed. Holding her gaze, he thrust again—and again. Watching for any sign of pain. But it wasn’t pain that brought a soft pink blush to her cheeks.

When her hips rose to meet him, he couldn’t hold back. His strokes lengthened. Deepened. Went faster and harder, her gasping moans urging him on.

The pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Like nothing he’d ever imagined. She was … everything. And more.

So tight. So hot. Sweat poured off him, the frantic thrusts taking their toll. Pressure built at the base of his spine, stronger and more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. Her body gripped him, milked him, pulled him over the edge.

And he took her with him. Holding her hips, he thrust in
hard and deep, grinding out her pleasure in slow, hard circles as his own roared in his ears.

He came with a white-hot intensity that shook him to his core. For a moment, the pleasure was so acute his mind went black. Again and again the spasms wracked him. Gripping. Squeezing. Wringing him dry.

“I love you so much.” Her words echoed over and over again in his head, in his heart.

When the last ebb had faded from his loins, he collapsed, spent and exhausted, on the bed beside her, reveling in the sensations and strange feelings running through him. He still felt like he was flying. He felt light-headed, his mind a little soft and fuzzy. Almost as if he’d had more of that whisky than he’d realized.
Jesus!
He’d never realized it could be like … 
that
.

Incredible. Amazing. Like nothing he’d ever experienced before. They’d been … connected. Not just joined, but connected. He’d never felt closer to anyone in his life as he had at the moment he was inside her, looking deep into her eyes. When they’d found release together, it wasn’t just his body that was sated but his soul. And the euphoria hadn’t ended with release. He felt—the feeling was so foreign to him, it took him a moment to put a name to it—
happy
. As if he could lie here with her forever.

She was so damned sweet. So giving. And she loved him? How had he gotten so lucky?

He was about to reach over and tuck her under his arm, when she spoke. “If this is what marriage has to offer, I think I shall be quite content.”

She might have doused him with a bucket of cold water, the shock of her words was the same. The fuzziness disappeared. The euphoria and happiness turned to an icy chill as the reality of what he’d done hit him quick and hard.

Fuck
.

The oath was well placed. That was exactly what he’d
done—both literally and figuratively. Not just her, but himself as well.

Instead of tucking her against him, he stared at the wooden roof of the barn in stunned disbelief as the ramifications battered down on him relentlessly.

God’s blood, what the hell had he done?

In taking her innocence, he’d violated the trust of both his king and his liege lord, and put his future, as well as that of his clan, at risk. One finger of land? Hell, he wouldn’t have a fist of dirt to his name when Bruce found out. The half-finished castle—a monument to his father’s rashness—would be a blight on the landscape forever. But none of that would matter, because Ewen would be dead. The king was going to kill him.

Ewen had been trying to keep his head down, do his job, distance himself from his “wild” father and rebellious cousin, and not bring attention to himself. Well, Bruce was sure as hell going to notice this. He was almost glad Sir James was dead, so he wouldn’t have to see this.

Meant to be. Rightness. Fate. Destiny
. Had he really used such fanciful excuses for justifying the inexcusable and losing sight of his honor? For forgetting what mattered? What about duty, loyalty, and discipline? Those were what he was supposed to think about. He wanted to blame it on the whisky, but he knew it wasn’t that. He’d been scared of losing her and he’d reacted without thought. He’d let emotion control him. Damn it, he didn’t get emotional. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

He was as bad as his damned father! His whole life he’d been fighting to make sure he didn’t end up like Wild Fynlay, and in a matter of minutes, he’d undone it all.

The Lamonts in Cowal would be no more.
Up to you
. God, he felt ill.

At first Janet didn’t realize anything was wrong. Still tingling and weak with pleasure, still feeling as if she were
soaring through the clouds, she was so caught up in the wonder of what had just happened that she assumed Ewen was feeling the same way.

She wasn’t even worried when he didn’t respond to her jest. He was probably just as overwhelmed as she was.

It was only when he sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the pallet (giving her a nice view of his broad, well-muscled back), tugged up his breeches, and put his head in his hands that she realized something was wrong.

She realized just how wrong when he muttered a vile oath that she’d never heard from him before.

Her chest squeezed, but she tried not to overreact. So what if this wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured the moment? It didn’t matter that he hadn’t pulled her into his arms, stroked her hair, and told her how wonderful it was. How much he loved her. Really it didn’t.

The squeeze tightened to a pang. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old virgin. She was a mature woman. She didn’t need such reassurances, even though they would have been nice. She pushed back the hot wave of emotion that rose to her eyes.

Ignoring the silly, girlish disappointment swelling in her chest, she tried to think rationally. His reaction was understandable. Of course, it was. She knew Ewen, and no doubt he would see taking her virginity as some kind of violation of his man’s code.

She might think it was ridiculous, but he didn’t.

Sitting up behind him, she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under her palm. Another splinter of hurt tried to make its way through the happiness she’d wrapped around herself like a plaid, but she wouldn’t let it.

“Please don’t be upset. Truly, there is nothing to worry about. We’ve done nothing wrong.” She smiled. “Or nothing that cannot soon be corrected. I will go to Robert as soon as we arrive and explain—well, perhaps not everything.”
Robert could be just as knightly about these kinds of things as Ewen. “But he will understand. He will be happy to see me finally wed, and marrying me will help your clan—you’ll see.”

Nothing could have prevented the stab of hurt when he jerked away from her touch. “You don’t understand a damned thing—the king is going to be furious!”

Janet blinked back at him in shock, stunned by the force of his vehemence. She didn’t think of herself as possessing tender feelings, but he’d managed to find some with his typically blunt and razor-sharp words. “Perhaps it is not an ideal match, but I’m sure Robert can be persuaded—”

He grabbed her by the arm and forced her to face him. “Damn it, Janet! Not everything can be handled with a deft tongue and a few pretty smiles. When the hell are you going to learn that? You have no idea what I’ve done.”

She stopped telling herself to dismiss his reaction. Whatever it was that was causing him to act like this was serious.

He dropped his hand and put his head back in his hands.

Suddenly chilled, she gathered the plaid left by Margaret from the bottom of the pallet, wrapped it around her shoulders, and shifted into position beside him. “Then why don’t you tell me,” she said softly.

She thought he was going to ignore her request. But after a few minutes of grappling, he seemed to reach some kind of decision. “The king has already arranged a betrothal for you.”

She sucked in her breath, staring at him in absolute horror and disbelief. She couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe. Her mind was busy racing in thousands of directions. It was the last thing she’d expected. Robert had never given any indication that he planned …

Betrayal ripped through her, tearing that plaid of happiness into tiny little shreds. But it wasn’t just from Robert.
She stared at Ewen, looking for the man she thought she knew. Who she thought knew
her
.

He lied to me
.

“Who?” she asked numbly.

“Walter Stewart.” The blow took every last bit of air from her chest. Of course! Ewen had let his name slip once. Now she understood the significance. She wanted to laugh, but feared she would cry. Walter Stewart was barely old enough to have earned his spurs. “My liege lord, and the son of the man I owe everything to,” he added.

She might have tried to understand his guilt, the depths of the dishonor he must be feeling for his disloyalty and broken trust, but she was too wrapped up in her own pain and broken trust. She stared at his face, searching for something to hold on to. Something to change the inevitable conclusion staring down at her.

She looked away, turning her gaze to her bare toes. At some point she must have kicked off her boots. A sharp pang sliced through her heart. Was it only minutes ago that she thought he was the one for her? “You did not tell me.”

It wasn’t a question. She didn’t care about his reasons why, but he told her anyway. “The king suspected you would not be as … uh, amenable to returning if you knew.”

The shock was beginning to fade, and anger surged inside her. She looked back up at him, her mouth twisted in a sneer. “How well he knows me. And you went along with it, of course. It was probably easier for you. ‘Not your battle,’ isn’t that what you said? Why should you get involved?”

His mouth thinned at her sarcasm. “By time I realized I
was
involved it, was too late. I knew you’d be angry, and I know it’s no excuse, but at the time I was more worried about keeping us both alive.”

His admission that he was involved was also too late—and too little.

“You could have told me tonight. You
should
have told me tonight.”

“Aye, well I didn’t exactly intend for this to happen. I thought it would be easier if the king explained. I thought it would make our parting less … complicated.”

“If I hated you?”

He stared at her, unblinking.

Dear God!
The color washed from her face; that was exactly what he thought. He would have just handed her over to another man and not looked back. Her heart shattered like glass thrown upon the floor. He might as well have done exactly that to it.