The Rogue: A Highland Guard Novella (The Highland Guard) (16 page)

At least he hoped it was only a moment.

She nodded, although clearly from the twinge of trepidation that crossed her face, she didn’t fully believe him.

Perhaps his honor had not completely deserted him. Somehow he found the strength to ask, “Are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life. Show me. Please, show me.”

The soft plea was uttered with such urgency, Randolph could only answer with a groan of relief and a final thrust of possession.

Isabel Stewart had given herself to him, and he would never give her back.

Izzie cried out—actually it might have been more of a scream—at the shock of pain. Even with the warning, the biting sharpness had been unexpected.

But good gracious, she felt as if she’d been split in two.

The quick glance she’d stolen of his manhood before he started to press inside her had alerted her to the problem. But she thought he would realize that he was too large to fit. He’d almost convinced her that it might work—right up to the last moment. Now she just wanted him off—and out—of her.

She started to push against that powerful chest that she partially blamed for her predicament. If he wasn’t so incredible to look at, she wouldn’t have been so aroused in the first place.

He swore and grabbed her wrists, pushing them back on either side of her head. She struggled for about a second before realizing she would have more chance of bending steel. Stretched out under him like this, she felt protected and vulnerable at the same time. But despite the pain he’d just given her, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

“I’m sorry, love. Just give it a moment.”

Love.
It was the second time he’d called her that.
Mo ghrá
—my love. Did he even realize it?

Her heart squeezed with longing that stole her breath. She told herself not to put too much store in it, but coupled with the infinite tenderness of his lovemaking (up until that painful part), she wanted to think this meant something to him, too.

To her it meant everything.

She looked at the handsome face poised inches over hers and stared deep into his eyes, searching for answers.

She must have found them because she realized it didn’t hurt so much anymore. Suddenly, she was conscious of something else, of the fact that they were joined together. That he was inside her—filling her. Maybe filling her a little too much, but other than the sense of overwhelming fullness, he wasn’t hurting her anymore. The pinching was gone. It felt wonderful… significant… powerful.

Slowly, the tension started to ease from her muscles. It eased even more when he took her silence for an invitation to kiss her. Or maybe it was to stop her from more protests. Whatever the reason, it worked, and her body relaxed even more.

It more than relaxed. She started to feel the now unmistakable twinges of arousal. Was it only two weeks ago that she’d really been kissed for the first time, and now she had a wanton’s understanding of her body? Good grief, what had he done to her?

Maybe she didn’t know everything. When he finally started to move, slowly sliding himself in and out of her, she was at a loss. Was she supposed to do something? God knew what he was doing to her felt incredible, but what about him? If the tortured look of barely repressed ecstasy on his face was any indication, perhaps she was doing enough. She had the sense that he was struggling to hold on.

“Tell me what to do,” she said softly.

“Nothing,” he gritted out from between clenched teeth. “Don’t move. If you move, I’m not going to last.”

As she rather liked what he was doing, Izzie didn’t move. She just held on.

He’d released her wrists and her hands instinctively went to his shoulders to brace herself against the jarring as his pace intensified, and the slow slides gave way to deeper and faster thrusts. She only wished that she had something to brace her heart. But their eyes held and with every stroke, her heart lifted higher and higher. She couldn’t rein it in.

The tenderness of his lovemaking had shattered every last barrier of self-protection. Izzie loved him with her whole heart and told herself that she could not be alone. How could he not be feeling the same thing? He was. He had to be.

With nothing holding her back now, she gave herself over to the sensations. She let them carry her away to a place that he had shown her. To the place where sensation reached its highest peak and her body shattered.

She felt the frantic restlessness, the quickening of her pulse, and the steady building toward something that seemed tantalizingly out of reach. But this time it wasn’t just her body experiencing the ecstasy, it was also her heart. For as the final rush of pleasure surged through her body, she looked into his eyes and found something that gave her hope: surprise. This was new to him. It
was
different.

She wasn’t alone, and the knowledge only intensified the feelings she was experiencing. She hadn’t thought she could feel anything more powerful than the first time—she was wrong. It was so much more when sharing it with the man she loved. Seeing his face transform, feeling the rush of warmth inside her, knowing that he was experiencing the same pleasure as her… that wasn’t just touching heaven, it was heaven.

It took a long time to come back down to earth. Finally, he collapsed on top of her. The fierce pounding of his heart against hers only added to the feeling of closeness—of being one.

Randolph was so motionless, were it not for his heavy breathing, she might have thought that she’d killed him.

Was everything all right?

Apparently, it was. He muttered a blasphemy and rolled off her. In doing so, he pulled himself from her body and broke the connection between them. She felt the loss and wanted to hold on, but it was already gone.

The sudden cold shock didn’t last long. He pulled her against his body, nestling her against the warmth of his chest. Despite the undoubtedly tawdry display of half pulled off clothes and tangled limbs, it felt like heaven again.

Pressing her cheek against his chest, Izzie listened as the pounding of his heart slowed and felt an almost trancelike happiness.

He broke the silence with a heavy sigh of contentment, echoing her thoughts. “I could stay like this forever.”

But
w
ould he? Izzie had to know. She had to find out whether her instincts had been right. Whether he had felt the same things as she.

She turned her head, propping her chin on her hand to look up at him. The arrogantly refined, handsome features looked so relaxed—almost boyish. Her heart squeezed a little more. Like this he was hers.

“I love you,” she said and waited.

She felt his heart stop for a long heartbeat before starting again. She felt like an axe was hanging over her head—or maybe her heart.

Tell me you love me, too. Tell me I wasn’t wrong. Hold me in your arms and tell me you’ll never let go.

She honestly thought he might, which made it more crushing when he didn’t.

“I know.” His eyes were cruelly understanding and tender. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

I know.
It wasn’t stated arrogantly but matter-of-factly. Of course, it was hardly a surprise. How could she not? Everyone did. It must be something he’d heard a hundred times.
What’s not to love?

But he had no idea how much his words had hurt. How he was breaking her heart with his gentle smile.

She turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. She didn’t understand. How could he make love to her like that and not love her?

But what did she really know? She was an innocent—or had been until a few minutes ago. Maybe there was nothing different or special about what had just happened between them at all.

“We will be married as soon as the banns are read,” he proclaimed matter-of-factly.

“I’m not marrying you,” she said quietly, not turning her head to look at him.

His heart stopped again under her palm. It took longer to restart this time. “Of course you’re going to marry me. You just gave yourself to me.”

She’d given him everything, but he’d only accepted part.

“It isn’t enough.” She knew that now.

He repositioned her so that she was forced to look at him. He didn’t look happy. “What do you mean it’s not enough? It was pretty damned spectacular.”

“Was it?” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter to her, when it actually meant everything. “I will have to take your word for it as I have nothing in the way of comparison. But spectacular isn’t enough for me.”

Maybe she was the one who wanted perfect.

Making love to him had told her what she needed to know. She could never marry him without love. Passion wasn’t enough. Satisfaction in the bedchamber would not make up for the fact that he didn’t love her, nor would it make her heart break any less when he left her for another. She couldn’t share him. She wanted to be enough.

She’d gambled her innocence and lost. Although maybe it wasn’t a complete loss. At least now she knew the truth. He didn’t love her, or he was determined not to—both amounted to the same thing.

She’d had enough. She was done trying to make him see. The man was blind and could stay that way for the rest of his life for all she cared. She wasn’t going to waste any more heartache chasing after someone who didn’t want her.

“What do you mean it’s not enough?” He sounded like he was about ten years old. But she wasn’t in the mood to pacify men who acted like little boys.

She sat up to make her way off the bed, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. The handsome features that she’d admired not long ago were dark with anger and frustration. “Is this your way of trying to extract promises from me?”

She gave him a look of contempt that wasn’t half of what she was feeling. “You don’t know me at all. I told you before, I want nothing from you.” She adjusted her dress as best she could knowing there was nothing she could do about the ties at the back. Removing her cloak from the floor, she pulled it around her shoulders. Her focus was on the door. All she wanted to do was get out of there.

He’d started to retrieve his clothes as well and was much more efficient at putting them on. When he realized that she meant to leave, he blocked her exit. “You aren’t going anywhere until we settle things. You have to marry me, damn it.”

His proposals just kept getting better and better. “Why? Because you took my maidenhead and honor demands it? I’m certainly not going to tell anyone, and I hardly think you will tarnish that shiny mail of yours by shouting it from the rooftops. Sir Thomas Randolph divesting virgins of their maidenhead? What would people think? Especially when they learn I’ve refused to marry you, too.”

The reference to her cousin made his mouth press into a cold white line. “Walter will make you.”

“Will he? I wouldn’t be so sure. And no one can make me say vows before God. These are not the days of brigands and barbarians, my lord—women cannot be compelled to marry someone they do not want. And I do not want you. Now get out of my way.”

He seemed momentarily stunned by her vehemence and let her pass. She was through the door and down the stairs before she realized he was behind her.

She was about to turn and tell him to go away, when he growled, “You aren’t walking back alone.”

Realizing it was useless to argue—not to mention foolhardy to walk by herself—she ignored him instead.

She was the only one to do so. On the mile-long journey down to the abbey, it seemed as though half the town of Edinburgh—still celebrating—stopped him to gush, fawn, and offer their congratulations on his miraculous taking of the castle. He spent most of that mile running afterward to catch up to her.

An enormous sense of relief came over her when the guesthouse finally came into view. She couldn’t bear to look at him right then; she just wanted him gone. With nothing left to say—thank you hardly seemed appropriate under the circumstances—she started toward the door.

Before she could make her escape, however, he stopped her. He seemed to have calmed down a little and didn’t look as angry. He had his charming knight smile on. Here was the part where he said whatever he thought she wanted to here.
It is all an act. Always. How can I have forgotten?

“Wait. You can’t just go like this. I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t want you to overreact and make any hasty decisions. Why don’t you think about it for a few days?”

“I don’t need to think about anything. I’ve made my decision.”

His jaw hardened again—this time with a furious tic. “How can you say that after what just happened? I know it was your first time, but you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

He actually sounded a little uncertain. She shook her head, dumbfounded. Was that what this was about? Had she wounded his masculine pride by not being overcome by his lovemaking? She had been, but not in the way he meant. “Have no fear, my lord. Your talents in the bedchamber are not exaggerated. I was properly swept away into complete euphoric bliss.”

He looked so relieved that were her heart not being twisted in a vise, she might have laughed. Had she really made the vaunted rogue worry that he’d left her underwhelmed? He didn’t understand at all. Why should he? For him the bedchamber was enough. To him it was everything.

“Then why…?” He finished his own question. “You want me to say it, is that it?” His voice had risen with his anger. “Fine. I love you, and I will keep my damned vows. Does that make you happy? Is that what you need to hear?”

She didn’t think it possible that he could make her pity him. But the great hero of Scotland—the man who seemed to have everything—had just succeeded. And she wasn’t alone. The two massive warriors who’d just come out of the king’s former lodgings with some of his things heard his words as well and both men shook their heads as if they felt sorry for him.

But it wasn’t just pity that she felt. Randolph had also given her the confirmation that she was doing the right thing. He didn’t want her; he just didn’t want her to refuse him. She looked at him without hesitation, and with remarkable composure for someone who’d just had a knife stuck in her gut. “Sir Thomas?” His gaze met hers, and even through the fury, she sensed that he knew he’d gone too far. That maybe he was a little shamefaced. “Go to hell.”