The Laird Who Loved Me (30 page)

Alexander’s face was contorted with fury and another crash of thunder shook the ground, louder and closer than before.

Dervishton, shoved aside, looked as angry as MacLean. “You have no right to interfere!”

MacLean gave him a dismissive glance before he turned to Caitlyn. “Go to your room.”

“But I—”

His eyes blazed with an unusual light, the green seeming to swirl. Thunder rumbled across the house, shaking each window. Lightning dazzled her eyes as the wind slammed into the house and rattled every shutter.

At the bottom of the stairs, Georgiana shrilly called for MacLean.

“Damn it, Caitlyn!” she snapped. “You look a mess. Go to your room!”

A
mess
? What sort of man would say such a— Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the landing. Her hair had fallen from its pins, her lips were bruised and swollen. If Georgiana or anyone else saw her—

That white-hot gaze landed on her again. “Go!
Now!
”

She picked up her skirts and ran, reaching her room as the storm broke with a howl of fury.

Rain and hail pelted against the window and lightning flashed blue-white in the room, which was dimly lit by a bedside candle and the crackling fire. In the hallway came the sound of a scuffle, a muffled shout, and a noisy crash. The storm’s fury intensified, drowning out all other noises, and Caitlyn heard nothing
more. She’d thought she knew the power of the curse, but the sheer power of the storm was like no other.

She shivered and went to the bellpull to summon Muiren, but just as her fingers closed around it, her door was rudely opened and MacLean strode in.

She caught her breath. His cravat was ruined, one coat sleeve was torn at the shoulder, and a cut by one eye trickled blood, as did one on his lower lip. His eyes were agleam with masculine confidence, a satisfied smile curving his mouth. He closed the door and gestured toward the empty lock. “Where’s the key?”

“Muiren put it in the top drawer of the dressing table. I’ve never—”

He strode across the room and fetched the key, then dropped it into her hand. “From now on, you will lock that door. Do you understand? Dervishton is not to be trusted.”

She nodded, then shivered. “I never expected him to . . .”

“Someone gave him the notion that you’re only a half step above a lady bird,” MacLean said grimly.

“Ah. Her grace.”

MacLean’s gaze flickered over her. “Are you hurt?”

“No, you came in the nick of time. But you clearly took a beating.”

“Dervishton made a few paltry attempts to retaliate. He did not win the fight.”

“Good God. If you look like that and you won, what does
he
look like?”

“A bloody mess.” MacLean’s smile faded. “You’re certain he didn’t hurt you?”

She smiled. “Do I look hurt?”

“No. You look … delectable.” His gaze heated and the air between them grew heavy as if weighted with a million thoughts and feelings, all of them too tangled to unwind into coherent thought.

“Sit down and let me clean those wounds,” she ordered in a husky voice, pointing to the chaise by the fire. She whisked over to the pitcher and basin on the washstand and dampened a hand towel.
Keep your wits, Hurst. Just because you’re alone with him is no reason to panic.
But it wasn’t panic. Something far more dangerous made her blood race and her hands tremble.

She turned from the washstand and pasted a smile on her lips. “I have three brothers, so I’m quite used to dealing with split lips and black eyes.”

He crossed his arms. “I’m not in need of a nursemaid.”

“Good, because I’m no nursemaid. Once I’ve washed off the blood and made sure you don’t need stitches, I’ll turn you over to your valet.
He
can be your nursemaid.” She crossed to the door and locked it.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t want someone to burst in on us while I get you cleaned up.”

He scowled. “Just give me the towel.”

“No. You can’t see where it’s cut, and I can.”

“Very well, damn it!” He went to the chaise and sat with a scowl. “Just hurry up and do it.”

Moving to stand between his knees, Caitlyn was achingly aware of him. She placed her hand beneath his chin and lifted his face, his warm, whisker-roughed skin making her fingertips tingle. She dabbed the cut on his lip, wincing when he did so. “That hurts.”

His gaze, liquid and dark in the dim light, met hers. “No.” His voice was low and deeper than usual.

She gently wiped the blood from his chin, then moved to the cut below his eye. Cleaning the blood off with a few gentle pats, she was relieved to see that the wound was minor. “It’s not deep, but your eye will be bruised in the morning.”

The warmth that emanated from him drew her closer. She leaned against his leg as she pretended to examine his bruises more closely, in reality admiring the masculine line of his mouth. Why did he have to have such a beautiful mouth, one that begged so to be kissed?

Outside the storm raged, the rain sluicing against the windowpanes. Inside the bedchamber, the fire warming them, the light flicking over MacLean’s face, it was as if they were the only people in the entire world.

“Caitlyn,” he whispered, his breath harsh.

She dropped the towel on the floor and reached for him, sliding her arms around his neck. “Kiss me.”

He pulled her close and their lips met as a rumble of thunder shook the house. There was no gentleness in this kiss, no caution. It was purely hot and urgent.

Caitlyn shivered as Alexander’s hands roamed over her body, warming, molding, tempting her to move closer, to be more daring. She slid her hands into his thick, black hair, burying her fingers in the soft waves. She devoured him with her kiss, branded him as hers, urging him with her tongue to be bolder, to take more, to—

He pushed her back, his breath harsh. “Caitlyn, we can’t do this. I will have you in my bed when I win the wager and not before.”

Blast the damned wager!
He was going to be honorable
now
? She couldn’t accept that, though his pride seemed to hold him firmly against the notion. Then inspiration struck. “If I lose, I must come to your bed. Correct?”

“Yes.” He looked weary.

“Then I see no conflict. This isn’t your bed.”

His lips twitched. “You are determined in this?”

She slid her hands to his face and lifted his mouth to hers. “Please, MacLean. I’ve thought of nothing else for the last few weeks. I just want—”

Alexander kissed her. He couldn’t have said no now if he tried. Having their legs entwined, her full breasts pressed to his chest, her warm skin beneath his fingers, was driving him
mad
.

He wanted her passionately, desperately, and completely. But she was an innocent. Could he really—

With a muffled oath, she answered his unspoken question when she pressed herself fully against him,
hooked a heel over his calf, and kissed him for all she was worth.

In that moment, Alexander was lost. He could fight himself, stifle his own urges, but not hers—never hers. Sweet, impulsive, savoring life, she made him feel more alive than he’d ever felt.

He covered her mouth with his, mastering her even as he was mastered. He slid his hands over her, lifting her skirts and pushing her gown aside as he settled her on his lap, her knees to each side of his hips as he possessively explored every lush curve, every smooth expanse of skin.

He untied her gown and pushed it down over her shoulders to expose her lush breasts. Cupping them in his hands, he marveled at the silken texture of her skin, then bent his mouth to them and teased the nipples to hard peaks.

Caitlyn moaned and writhed against him, clearly hungry for more, savoring the feelings the way she savored her food. He kissed her from her plump lips to the gentle curve of her shoulder, and she pressed against him, asking silently for more, her hips restlessly pressing against his erection.

God she was a handful, and she seemed to know exactly what she wanted.
This is definitely no virgin.
Relief flooded through him and his passion exploded with full force. He unlaced his breeches, releasing his cock, groaning when she tried to help, her fingers brushing against him. Then he pushed aside her chemise
and lifted her up until she was poised over him.

Eyes locked, panting heavily, he pressed the tip of his cock against her slick opening.

For a long moment they stared at one another, then she placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed down, over him. With a gasp, he slipped into her tight wetness, keeping his eyes open to absorb the look on her face.

Her face was flushed, her skin glistening, her lips red and swollen from his kisses. Her long, gold hair tumbled about her in silken swirls, her gown opened to reveal her smooth skin and gorgeous breasts. He was so overcome with her that for a moment, he had to stop and fight for control.

She wiggled and pressed down more, and his cock slipped farther inside her, her velvety heat unlike anything he’d ever felt. He grasped her waist tightly, but refused to help her—she had to control this, and she was doing a damned fine job.

Inch by delicious inch, she lowered herself onto him. Her tight wetness almost undid him. His body was drenched with sweat, his muscles screaming as he clenched them to hold off the explosion.

She pushed down more . . . then stopped, wincing in pain.

Shocked, his gaze locked with hers. Was she a—

Hands gripping his shoulders, she thrust herself down completely over his cock. A spasm of pain flickered over her face, followed quickly by blissful pleasure.

Alexander could no longer think. He rocked into her
hard and fast, caressing her breasts, kissing her deeply as he increased the tempo until she was gasping, her skin dewy with exertion and flushed a delicate pink.

She was so beautiful—so
his
.

Suddenly she arched, her legs gripping his hips as she pressed against him, gasping his name and shuddering, tightening unbearably around him, stroking him with her heat and wetness.

And holding her close, he finally surrendered his control, tumbling over the edge of pleasure after her.

“Gor, what a storm we’re havin’!” Muiren, who’d been towel-drying Caitlyn’s hair after her bath, shivered as lightning lit the room, starkly white before disappearing. “I canno’ remember when we’ve had such lightnin’.”

Caitlyn didn’t answer. Her heart was too full, her thoughts too confused. Fortunately Muiren didn’t require a response as she was full of news herself.

The fight between Lord Dervishton and Alexander had ended with Lord Dervishton being carried away on a makeshift cot. Since Lord MacLean had disappeared a short time after that, no one was sure how injured he was, but Muiren had caught sight of him going into his room and said she detected little beyond a bruised eye. Caitlyn could have told the maid exactly how little harmed MacLean had been, but she wisely said nothing.

“Which, if ye’d seen Lord Dervishton, would tell ye all ye need to know about Lord MacLean’s ability to fight!”

“So one would think,” Caitlyn murmured.

“Aye, miss! No one knows what they were fightin’ over, though ’tis said Lord MacLean told his man ’twas a lady’s honor.” Muiren continued to comb Caitlyn’s hair before the crackling fire. “Obviously, he meant her grace.”

Caitlyn was glad Muiren was so caught up in her tale that she didn’t really expect any responses. Caitlyn’s mind was too full of Alexander to respond with more than vague answers.

“Och, her grace looked like the cat as swallowed the canary, she was tha’ pleased to be fought over,” Muiren went on.

Caitlyn was amazed how she’d given in to her passions so completely and without thought. It made her realize that since the first time she’d met Alexander MacLean, they’d been heading toward that exact moment. In a way, it was a wonder it hadn’t happened earlier.

What an
incredible
experience. Nothing had prepared her for the way her senses could explode or how long afterward a touch of euphoria would linger. Caitlyn rubbed her arms and shivered.

“Miss, ye’re cold!” Muiren fetched a blanket and put it about Caitlyn’s shoulders.

Caitlyn managed a smile. “I’m fine. I think my hair is plenty dry now, so I’m going to go to bed.”

“Aye, ye’re worn-out, aren’t ye. No wonder, with th’ excitement ye’ve had today.”

You have no idea.
But it wasn’t just the physical aspect that made her so weary, it was the emotional aspect, as well. Afterward, Alexander had held her for such a long time that she’d thought he’d fallen asleep. Yet the second she’d moved, he’d released her, looking down at her with a dark, unfathomable gaze that had shaken her to the soul. In his eyes she’d seen wonder and dismay, uncertainty and sadness.
What had he meant by that look?
He’d been unaccountably quiet, the air around him heavy with tension. She’d tried to make light of it and had even attempted a joke, but he would have none of it, simply regarding her with a grave look before he’d dressed and left, telling her they’d talk later.

Caitlyn had been bemused by events and she hadn’t protested, though she’d felt all of two feet tall when he’d left so quietly. Her heart still ached from the sound of the door closing behind him.

“We’re all mighty proud o’ ye, miss,” Muiren said. “Ye’re well on yer way to winning the wager.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Caitlyn settled into the huge bed, gratefully snuggling down between the covers.

“Do ye know the next task ye have to compl—”

A light knock sounded on the door, and Muiren puffed out her cheeks. “Who could tha’ be at this hour o’ the night?” She hurried to the door and opened it.

The fire flickered wildly, a stream of cold air rattling against the closed windows.

From the bed Caitlyn couldn’t see the visitor, and after a few words Muiren closed the door and returned to the bedside, a pleased look on her plump face.

“Who was it?”

“It was Mrs. Sterling’s niece, who’s the upstairs maid here. She found this earlier in MacLean’s bedchamber and brought it to ye.” Muiren proudly held out her hand. In the middle of her palm lay Muffin’s bow.