The Seduction of Miss Amelia Bell (19 page)

E
dmund pushed open the door with his boot and carried Amelia into his room. Part of
him shouted to put her down and lock her away somewhere. But his heart pushed him
ahead. He didn’t think of how many nights they would have together. He cared only
about this one.

He felt foolish and vulnerable at the way his heart beat over her, how his blood coursed
like molten fire through his veins for her. He knew stories of great men who surrendered
their hearts to their women. But it had never happened to him before. Thanks to his
books…and Finlay Grant’s poetic tales of Camlochlin’s courtly love, he’d suspected
it someday would. But he wasn’t prepared for the full and utter change it brought
in his way of thinking.

“I don’t want to let ye go, Amelia,” he told her, taking her to his bed. “What can
I do to convince ye that ye would be happier with me than with anyone else?”

She clung to him as he lowered her to his mattress and dragged her satiny voice across
his ear. “Ye can do nothing. My heart has already convinced me.”

He pressed his lips to hers and fire scorched his mouth, the pit of his belly, below
his navel.

Gaza’s whimper at the entry pulled him away with an oath to ride to the nearest Buchanan
holding and drop her at the doorstep.

After securing that they were alone and locked away, Edmund turned, stared as if stricken,
and he was, at the goddess on his bed, and then returned to her.

“My dog loves ye already,” she told him, then caught her breath while he undressed
on his way back to her.

His plaid fell away as he lay beside her and took her in his arms. “If she loves me,
how can I return her to the chancellor?”

“Let’s not speak of him now,” she whispered against his mouth.

He loved kissing her. He loved the taste, the feel, the scent of her. But he wanted
more. He began unlacing her gown, taking his time, savoring each moment.

“I don’t know what to do…about pleasing ye.” Her voice quavered against his cheek
when she broke their kiss.

“Ye can practice whatever ye want on me.”

He felt her smile into his neck. “I can do anything?”

“Aye.” He closed his eyes as she bit down on his neck and then traced her tongue over
where she bit.

“I’ve never seen a man’s naked body before.” Her breath singed his chin. “But I’ve
dreamed of a statue cool and hard beneath my fingertips.”

He took her mouth with raw demand while she ran her palms over his hard angles. He
wanted to rip her gown off her body and toss his garments to the fire and sink into
her as deep as he could go. But he didn’t want this night to end. Not ever, so he
took his time.

But spurred by her desire to be ravished, he did get her out of her gown quicker than
she’d ever gotten into it.

He wrapped her in his arms and legs, plundering her mouth and growing hard against
her. When she scored her fingernails down his back, he lifted his head to look into
her eyes, untangled their limbs, and straddled her in one fluid motion. His heavy
cock rested on her belly while he cupped her firm breasts in his palms and traced
her nipples with his tongue. Her body beneath him tempted him to madness. He need
only spread her wide with his knees and thrust his cock deep.

She pushed him gently away, but only to lean up and feast her eyes on him hovering
over her. And feast she did. Edmund felt her gaze as if it were a brand, burning him
everywhere she looked. She smiled, her lids heavy, her hair tumbling about her face
like some wanton garden nymph while she ran her fingers over the ridges in his belly,
down his hips, and finally over his rigid shaft. She looked up from it, her gaze dark
and glittering at the same time. “Ye’re crafted like him, only bigger.”

He angled his hips forward, offering her more of him. With her breath quick and shallow,
she took him in both hands. He groaned and dripped onto her fingers when she squeezed
him.

Gripped in passion’s selfish throes, he bent to her and grasped her bottom lip in
his teeth. He swept his tongue into her mouth, deep and wide, and lifted his hips
up off her. She didn’t release him but stroked his tender shaft in her small, hot
hands until flames lanced his nerves.

He covered one of her hands with his big one and guided her over him faster, harder.
The urge to slip inside her, to be encompassed in her tight sheath, was maddening,
but not yet. Almost.

Almost.

“Later, I will taste ye in my mouth.”

Och, hell, how did she manage to speak words that made him cast his control to the
wind? How could she be so innocent and so damned sexy at the same time?

He didn’t know if it was her promise, the husky tone in which she spoke it, the rhythm
of their hands, or everything combined that was his undoing. Scalding fire licked
through him, bubbling deep within, building pressure until his muscles trembled with
ecstasy and he moaned like some beast in pain.

He guided their hands to her entrance and ground himself against her one last time
before his seed erupted all over her opening. She cried out as he released her and
let her move him however she willed.

She coiled her legs around him and wiggled beneath him, against him, while the last
of his cum shot out in a thick stream.

He spoke into her ear, telling her how good she felt, how he wanted to dip inside
her and make her quake to her center. She smiled, a slow, languid smile, and guided
his tip into her. She teased him, taking an inch and then retreating, anxious about
the pain he would cause. When she did it three more times, each time taking him a
little deeper, he nearly released himself again.

But now it was her turn.

Kissing her hungry mouth, he pushed deeper and deeper inside her until she cried out.
He quieted her by remaining still atop her, looking into her eyes. Cupping her face
in his hand, he spoke quietly against her rapid breath. “I love ye, Amelia.”

Her eyes filled with large glistening tears while he began to move again. Slowly,
meaningfully.

“Ye weren’t supposed to seize my heart, lass. But ye did.”

Like the first night they danced, he made love to her, caressing her in his arms as
if she were everything to him. She was. He explored her, shared her intimate smiles,
and kissed away her tears.

Later, when they rested, Edmund thought about what Malcolm had told him. His cousin
was correct about their course. They’d veered off, and he led the charge. As precious
as Sarah was to Amelia and Luke, she meant nothing to the two most powerful men in
Scotland. But Amelia did. He knew how valuable she was. He didn’t know what he would
do about their course, but he knew that he loved this woman and he’d asked his best
friend to stand with him. Of course, Malcolm vowed that he would.

“Edmund?”

“Aye, love.”

“Is there a garden at Camlochlin?”

He moved in to kiss her. “Camlochlin is the garden, love. ’Tis only missing its angel.”

Evening grew into the stillness of a night kept young by the laughter of a tavern
wench while she traipsed around the lord of Ravenglade’s bed, the quiet conversation
of a servant and a knight coming to know each other over sweet wine and a warm fire,
and the whispered promises of momentary lovers locked in passion’s embrace.

“This is the third time ye have consented to me, lass.” Edmund watched Amelia’s lips
curl into a teasing smirk while she wrapped her legs tighter around him.

“Do ye intend to have me then, Highlander?”

Her voice was thick with passion, her gaze on him smoky and sparked with the same
hunger he felt coursing through him for her.

“I do, Amelia.” He kissed her chin, her throat, and drove himself deep into her. He
almost lost himself when she cried out. “But I would not claim a woman as mine without
her consent.” He bit her chin, then took her mouth with broad, slow strokes of his
tongue that matched the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Do ye give yer consent, just fer tonight?” he asked, breaking their breathless kiss
to look down into her eyes, slowing his movements and fighting the effect her tight
thighs around his waist was having on him.

“I do.” She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, and arched her back, pushing her
hips up. She moved in a little dance beneath him, against him, that shook him to his
core.

He slipped his arm around her small waist and flipped onto to his back, bringing her
over him. He smiled and drew in his bottom lip when she straddled him, bravely taking
his full size.

Looking up at her, he knew that his heart was lost to her. Mayhap it had been from
that very first night. He was in love with her.

Setting his palms on her hips, he guided her for a little while and then he drew her
down on him, her breasts pressed to him, his breath becoming hers, his hands tight
on her rear. He guided her up, down, once, twice, and then he felt her shudder and
grow tighter around him. He slowed his thrusts, grinding her hips against his in a
dance that pulled tight, short groans from her lips.

“Drench me, love,” he whispered as she obeyed.

He watched her and did the same for her.

B
y now, Sarah knew almost every curve, every arc, and every angle of Lucan MacGregor.
But nothing was more perfect than his dimpled chin, she thought, wiping the last traces
of blood from it, the decadent fullness of his lips, and the ease with which they
curled whenever he looked at her. He was, she decided, the most perfectly formed man
she’d ever met. She finished cleaning the last of the wounds on his face, a slight
cut along his chin from the fist of a man even bigger than he was. Lucan had taken
the blow straight on, shook his head, and then delivered a thunderous uppercut to
his opponent that Sarah feared had killed the man. It hadn’t.

“Ye’re very dangerous without yer sword.” She didn’t move from her position standing
between his knees where he sat.

“’Twas a good fight.” He looked at her, his gaze level with hers. “I prefer it to
more serious fighting.”

She nodded, realizing for the first time, because of her closeness, that his left
eye was slightly more golden and his right, a bit more green. “Ye’re verra’ handsome.”

“Thank ye.” His smile widened into a grin that snatched the breath clean out of her.
“But I should be the one telling ye how bonny ye are. From the moment I saw ye, I
didn’t care if everyone else in the world vanished, as long as ye remained.”

She shook her head and severed her gaze from his, still unfamiliar with such adoration.

He smoothed a lock of her hair off her cheek and traced her bottom lip with his thumb.
“Ye’re going to have to grow accustomed to such words, Sarah. Fer I wish to bestow
them on ye until ye’re old and gray.”

She closed her eyes. Och, how could this wondrous man care for her?

“Sarah?”

She opened her eyes and set them on his and smiled. She had to smile, for he made
her heart soar. She thought of the hours they’d spent together last night, talking,
laughing, learning about each other. Never in all her life had she shared so much
with a man…with anyone, save Amelia. She wanted to kiss him, to explore him, but she
was frightened because unlike the other men in her life, Lucan meant something to
her. She liked him very much…and she was tired of being frightened. Amelia was correct,
Lucan was different. It was time to trust a man.

When she took his face in her hands and bent to kiss his bruises, he coiled his arm
around her waist and pulled her against his chest. He opened his hand, spreading his
broad fingers over the small of her back, and tilted his face to hers. She kissed
his mouth, and her knees almost gave out beneath her. His lips were soft, temptation
itself. He moved them with pure mastery of motion, opening his mouth and spreading
his tongue inside her, withdrawing just enough to share her breath. Her insides burned
with flames only he could extinguish.

He rose up out of his chair and led her to one of the settees in the solar. There,
he sat and pulled her gently down with him. They lay, tangled in each other’s arms,
his long, muscular legs around her.

How safe she felt, cherished for more than the pleasures she could give him. For the
first time in years she felt innocent, untried, vulnerable. Her heart beat madly,
but she tried not to fight what he made her feel. His kisses were like the finest
wine, smooth, warm, intoxicating. His fingers moved through her hair, over her throat,
and down her hips until she felt heady with desire.

He held her face between kisses and told her how bonny she was and how she made him
feel like a man. She laughed a little. He needed no help in being a man.

“How is it possible that no woman has snatched ye up yet, Lucan?”

“Some have tried, but none were right fer me. Until ye.”

Her heart accelerated and she had the urge to run, to find the control she used to
have with men that she seemed to have lost with this one. But she couldn’t move. She
didn’t want to. She didn’t care if she wasn’t in control. Not this time. “What is
it about me?”

He shook his head. “I admit yer beauty attracted me at first, but there was something
else. Ye seemed verra’ exposed, at risk to things around ye…like a wanderer in the
lair of dragons.”

“Ah”—she smiled—“so ’twas a knightly thing. Ye wanted to save m’ from danger. What
happens when I’m secure and no longer need a protector?”

“If ye let me”—his voice was low and rough along her mouth—“I will always protect
ye from danger.”

“That sounds permanent, Lucan.”

“’Tis how I intended it to sound, lady. I want ye in my life. I want to make love
to ye and watch ye grow fat with my bairns.”

He kissed her and held her in his arms when she trembled.

Bairns? That was permanent indeed. Would she ever be ready for such permanence with
a man? How would she know? She looked at him and he smiled. And she knew.

“So ye retrieved neither yer cousin’s hand, nor his dog.” Darach didn’t care if he
was beaten senseless for a second time; he had to gloat when William entered the barn
that morning almost as bruised as he had been when they captured him. “I must tell
ye, going to Ravenglade fer the hand was foolish. I’m certain m’ kin had a good laugh
over it. The dog…” He shrugged. “If ’twas Edmund who took it, ye likely willna’ be
seein’ the beast again. Edmund has an affinity fer canines. Owns the ugliest one in
Scotland.”

“And
ye
might not be seeing Edmund again,” William warned him and took a seat on a nearby
stool, “or the rest of them.”

“How many were there?”

“What? Ye know damned well how many there were. There were three! In my defense, I
delivered a number of gut-crunching blows.”

“Well then,” Darach said while relief filled him. There were three. Lucan lived and
fought. “Let me thank ye fer providin’ m’ lads with proper sport. Hopefully, when
I am recovered, ye’ll allow me the same pleasure. As fer that second warnin’ ye’re
about to give me, I likely
will
be seein’ them all. They didna’ kill ye, nor even one of the others. That means a
bargain was struck fer m’ life.” His mouth snaked into a smirk. “Ye knew ye couldna’
take them on, did ye no’? We come from fightin’ stock. Ye rode to m’ cousin’s castle
and walked straight into hell. Did ye promise m’ life fer yers?”

William stared at him for a long time. So long, in fact, that Darach thought he might
have croaked in some kind of time-delayed consequence of having the shyt beat out
of him.

“I had fifteen armed men at my side,” William finally said. “Sixteen to start, but
I’m told that Grant made a quick end of Andrew by smashing his head into the wall.
Still, the Highlanders were outnumbered. I hadn’t gone fer a fight, but even if I
did, they weren’t afraid, even with the numbers so stacked against them. ’Twas a wee
bit intimidating, that.” At first, the chief seemed to be speaking to himself, rather
than to Darach, which would explain better why he’d complimented his enemies. But
then he clearly looked at his prisoner and smiled slightly. “Neither Alistair’s hand
nor his dog are worth dying over, so I used ye as a pawn.”

“That’s no’ always a good idea,” Darach told him, with more respect for having been
honest. “My kin dinna’ respond well to Grants’ or MacGregors’ lives bein’ threatened.”

“Aye,” William said curtly. “I surmised that much while they pounded our asses to
the ground.”

Darach smiled, making a mental note to remember William’s words for a future ode he
might want to someday write to the lads. “They’re brutal bastards. Did ye lose any
teeth?”

“Nae.” William actually laughed, surprising Darach even more. “But Janet says my nose
is broken and she had to stitch my brow.”

“And he didn’t yelp and whine the way
ye
did when I stitched that gash that wasn’t closin’ on ye last eve, Grant.”

Darach wasn’t sure if the sound of Janet Buchanan’s voice made him want to smile or
shout blasphemies. He looked up to heaven while she entered the barn. When would he
be delivered from this sharp-tongued hellion?

“Did ye use a dull sewin’ needle on him, too, witch?”

“Of course not, wretch. He’s my brother.” She tossed him a cool wooden smile. “His
scar will be much straighter than yers as well.”

“Pity fer him.” Darach yawned. “We Highlanders take pride in our scars.”

“I’m certain yer women don’t feel the same way,” she threw at him, then turned to
William.

“Our women are no’ sensitive barn wenches who recoil at the sight of a real man.”

Her back stiffened. “Let me kill him, William.”

“Don’t touch him, Janet. I’m deadly serious. I wasn’t thrown into a damned moat last
night fer naught.”

“Ye were thrown into the moat?” Darach asked him, doing his best to conceal his grin.

“Most of us were—”

“William, must ye tell him?” his sister complained. “He’ll only wallow in it.”

“I don’t care. This feud is foolish. Mayhap MacGregor is correct and there are bigger,
more threatening enemies waiting in our mist.”

“He
is
correct,” Darach said. “And there are.”

William agreed. “But presently, yer kin are more dangerous than any laws. I intended
all along to return ye to them. I just wanted to wait a few days until ye didn’t look
so beat up.”

“I’ll let them know that,” Darach promised.

“Tell me, they will most certainly come fer ye then?”

“Most certainly,” Darach assured him.

“When?”

Darach shrugged his shoulders. Even if he knew, he wouldn’t tell him.

“Well, I should have told them I would return ye but the moat came quickly. If they
don’t come tonight, I’ll arrange to have ye taken back in the morning.”

He turned to his sister. “See that he eats and is cleaned up. I need to prepare everyone
and see that there is no more bloodshed.”

“I’m tired of looking after him, Will!” Janet called out to her brother, and then
shifted her gaze to Darach when they were alone. “One more day and then I’ll be rid
of ye.”

Darach tossed her a lazy smirk. “Ye’ll miss me. What else will ye have to fill yer
dull days?”

She laughed and he almost hated how beautiful she was when she did. He didn’t like
her, but he couldn’t deny that no lass in England or Scotland was as bonny as she.

“I’ll practice my skills so that if I am ever so unfortunate to meet ye again, I can
kill ye properly.”

Hell, she was a fiery wench. He offered her a cool smile that carefully concealed
what he really thought of her. “If I’m ever tortured by yer company again, I’ll gladly
let ye kill me.”