The Viper (42 page)

She managed to convey both wariness and skepticism in the inflection of that one word. He couldn't blame her. He wasn't all that comfortable with the idea himself. What the hell did he know about love?

He hadn't expected her to jump in his arms and declare her love for him--if she'd ever cared for him, he'd sure as hell ruined that--but it pained him to realize just how much cause she had to be cautious. He'd hurt her, and she feared he would do so again. "I know I haven't acted like it."

"No, you haven't," she agreed all too readily. "Why should I believe you?"

He should have known she wouldn't make it easy on him. But he'd dug himself into this grave, so he needed to dig himself out. "I've never been so miserable in my life."

Her mouth quirked. "And this is supposed to convince me? I think you're going to have to do better than that."

For a man who'd never thought he had feelings, let alone tried to talk about them, he didn't know what to say. "I've never felt like this about anyone. You make me crazy. You make me happy. You make me want to be a better man."

A smile hovered around her lips. "That's sweet."

He nearly choked. "
Sweet?
Good God, don't let anyone hear you say that!" He'd never hear the end of it.

She eyed him expectantly. "Is that all?"

He gave her a sharp look. "This isn't exactly easy for me; you could show a little mercy."

She lifted an imperious brow. "Mercy? I didn't think you knew the word." She shook her head. "You know I'm beginning to doubt this fearsome reputation of yours. I didn't think you were scared of anything."

"I didn't think so either," he muttered under his breath. He'd rather take on an army of Englishmen with his bare hands--naked--then bare himself like this.

How could he find words to convey the enormity of what was in his heart? "You were right. I was fighting this. I was fighting you. I've done everything I could to make you hate me, but it wasn't until I succeeded that I knew what a damned fool I've been. I swear if I could take back what happened in that boathouse, I would." He dragged his hand through his hair, trying to find a way to explain the inexcusable. "I should have pushed you away, but I wasn't strong enough. Somehow it ended up all twisted. I tried to make myself believe that all I felt for you was lust, and I made you believe it."

"You didn't act alone, Lachlan. I should never have done what I did." Her cheeks flushed in the darkness. "It was wrong of me to try to persuade you that way. I didn't give you a choice to push me away; I wanted to make you weak." He felt her eyes on his face, as if she could dig the truth out of him. "But I don't understand. If you love me, why did you refuse to help me?"

He knew he had to tell her all of it. "You know I have some debts?" She nodded. "Some of the money is for the families of the men who died for me that day."

She gasped. Her eyes locked on his. "How much of it?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "They had large families."

"My God, you've been supporting all those people for ten years?"

His jaw locked. "It's not enough." It would never be enough.

"Why didn't you tell me? How could you let me think you didn't care about your duty to your clan? How could you let me make all those accusations?"

"Because I didn't want you looking at me the way you are now. I'm not a bloody saint, but I pay my debts."

Her eyes widened with horror as she realized all the ramifications. "Oh God, Lachlan, I'm sorry. I swear to you I will find a way to make sure you get your money. If Robert won't ... Somehow, I'll repay you."

He stiffened. "It's my debt, Bella, not yours. I don't want your money. I'll find a way."

"But--"

He stopped her with a finger over her mouth. "No."

Her lips pursed. "Do you always have to be so stubborn?"

He lifted a brow. "Do you?"

Their eyes met and her frown dissolved into a wry grin. "It would be much easier between us if we weren't."

"Aye, but I wouldn't want you any other way."

The broad smile that lit her face warmed his heart. "You wouldn't?"

He shook his head. "That stubborn pride makes you strong. It helped you survive. It brought you back to me." He squeezed her harder against him. "I should have protected you."

"You did as much as was humanly possible. But no man is invincible--not even you. We were betrayed; there is nothing you or anyone could have done about that."

He started to argue, but this time it was she who put a finger to his mouth. "There are no one's hands I would rather put my life into, Lachlan. No one. I, too, wouldn't want you any other way."

He cocked a brow in silent challenge.

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "All right, maybe without the crude language."

He winced, recalling some of his more choice offerings. "I'm sorry about the things I said. I didn't mean them."

"I know."

"But they still hurt."

She nodded, eyes solemn. "A lot."

He squeezed her tighter against him, pressing his mouth against the soft silk of her hair. "I'm an arse."

Her mouth quirked; she shot him a sidelong glance. "You're starting to repeat yourself."

He smiled. That he had. Sobering, he took her chin once more between his thumb and finger and tilted her face to his. She was so damned beautiful. His heart seemed to have forgotten how to beat. "Have I convinced you?"

He sounded so hopeful, so eager for this to be over, that if it weren't so serious she would have laughed.

Was it possible he loved her? She desperately wanted to believe him. Looking at him it was hard not to. He looked so vulnerable, so uncertain. Two things she'd never thought to see on his face.

But years of disappointment made it hard for her to trust--especially with something as fragile as her heart.

Could she let herself love him?

She felt her heart swell in her chest as she gazed into his eyes, and she knew the answer. What a foolish question! As if she could control her heart. Love happened whether she wanted it to or not.

Of course she loved him. This man who appeared so hard and uncaring on the outside but on the inside was filled with unexpected depths and contradictions. He was a man who'd bellow at her one minute and wrap a plaid around her the next. Who'd walked away from his clan but had done so out of a fierce sense of duty. A mercenary who'd sold his sword to the highest bidder to care for his clansmen. A man who exuded virility but had punished himself with celibacy for ten years. A man who'd claimed his friends meant nothing to him but would race into a burning building before he'd leave one of them die. A man who'd sacrifice everything he'd worked for to help her.

She'd loved him for a long time. She just thought she could protect herself by not admitting the truth.

A bubble of joy spread through her, putting a wide smile on her face. "Not quite yet, I'm afraid."

His face fell. He looked so crestfallen, this time she did laugh.

He frowned. "I'm glad you find this so amusing."

"Oh, I do." She grinned.

"I don't know what else to say, Bella. I seem to have exhausted my meager supply of love words."

She supposed she should be done torturing him, although she had to admit it was fun watching him wriggle and wince with each word like a lad in church clothes. Clearly, talking about his feelings didn't exactly come naturally to him.

She reached up and put her hand on his face, feeling the warmth seep through her.

"Perhaps you'd better show me, then," she said softly.

His eyes raked her face, as if he didn't quite trust his ears--or his interpretation. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, feeling suddenly shy. "I love you, too."

A fierce expression hardened his face. "You don't have to say that."

She smiled. "I know. But it's the truth." She paused. "I've loved you for a long time, but didn't want to acknowledge it because I was scared you would never love me back. And then when I thought you'd betrayed me ..." Her voice drifted off.

He stroked her cheek with the side of his finger. "I'm sorry, love."

She shook her head. "It's in the past. All that matters is what we do from here. You're a hard man to love, Lachlan MacRuairi, but I do believe I'm up to the challenge."

"We'll probably argue."

"Aye, it seems likely."

"I have a bit of a temper when I get angry."

"I've noticed," she said wryly.

"I can be a mean bastard. I'll probably say something to hurt you."

She laughed. "Are you trying to scare me off?"

He gave her a rueful smile. "Maybe."

"Well, stop--it isn't going to work. I'm quite aware of your faults."

He frowned. "I didn't say they were faults."

She laughed, reaching up to twist the lock of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead around her finger. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, could she ever tire of looking at him? Their eyes met, and all jesting fell to the wayside. Suddenly, the air fired between them.

"I thought you were going to try to convince me," she said huskily.

He leaned down and kissed her, answering her command with the soft brush of his mouth. A kiss so tender and sweet it took her breath away.

He tore his mouth away with a pained groan. "I don't know what to do. I've never done this before."

She would have teased him, but she could see how much this meant to him. He wanted to get it right.

"Neither have I," she said softly. Like him, she knew lust, but not love--not tenderness.

Maybe if she had, her marriage might have been different. Her feelings for Lachlan had given her better perspective on her past and helped her to feel that she could put it behind her, where it belonged. Buchan seemed less the cruel monster of her memories, and more a man to be pitied. He'd wanted her so badly it had become an obsession. Looking back, she could see all the little places her marriage had gone wrong. He'd wanted her to respond, and her defiance only made him try harder. Until they'd entered a vicious cycle from which neither one of them could break free. They were both too stubborn to admit defeat.

"You humble me." His voice was gruff with emotion.

"And you me," she said, tears of happiness in her throat. She couldn't believe this was really happening. That something so wonderful was happening to her. Part of her feared that at any moment, someone would wake her up and tell her that it was all a dream.

His mouth fell on hers again, and she could feel the force of his emotion running through her.

It was all the reassurance she needed. She slid her hand around his head, running her fingers through his hair--which was far too soft and silky for a fierce warrior--to bring her mouth more fully against his.

She opened it, taking in the long, heartfelt strokes of his tongue. A delicious warmth spread through her. She'd never felt so safe. So secure.

So loved.

For a man who'd never done this before, he was doing an awfully good job of it.

He took his time. Teasing her. Tasting her. Stoking her passion one spark at a time. A stroke of his tongue. A touch of his hand. A soft groan of pleasure whispered in her ear.

Slowly, he eased her down on the ground under him, using the plaid she had wrapped around her shoulders as a blanket.

He lifted his head. "Are you cold? I gathered wood for a fire. It won't take me a minute--"

"I don't need a fire." She slid her hand under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin radiate under her palms. He was hot enough for them both. She skimmed her hand over the rigid bands of his stomach. He sucked in his breath as the muscles clenched in response. "You'll keep me warm."

"I don't want anything between us," he warned.

His words only flooded her with more warmth as a flush of anticipation spread over her. Naked. Flesh to flesh. Skin to skin.

She nodded.

He began to remove his clothes. She felt she should look away. Surely it wasn't maidenly to be so interested. But she wasn't a maiden--and hadn't been in a long time. So she looked her fill. Holding her breath as piece by piece, his magnificent body was revealed to her bold gaze. Boots, weapons, plaid, leather
cotun
, chausses, and shirt were shucked off in a pile beside him. Then his hands moved to his waist. Her mouth went dry as he quickly worked the ties of his braies, releasing the hard column of his manhood. It was dark in the fort, but not too dark to see the massive size of him, and to remember how it had felt to take him in her mouth.

She swallowed, slowly.

"Keep looking at me like that, lass, and this isn't going to last very long." He slid out of his braies, tossing them in the pile with the rest.

Naked, aroused, every inch of his densely muscled physique bared to her view, he was magnificent. She told him so.

In response, he kissed her. She could feel his fingers working the ties of her shirt and breeches--she'd donned her lad's clothes again to travel--and feel his hands skim over her body as he helped her out of her clothes, but his mouth and tongue kept her so busy it wasn't until he broke the kiss that she realized she was naked. "It's you who are magnificent," he said, his voice filled with awe as his gaze skimmed over every inch of her naked flesh.

She blushed, feeling strangely shy. She'd been naked in front of him before, but this felt different. For the first time, a man's admiration of her body didn't bother her. Never had a man looked at her with such reverence--as if she were the most precious, beautiful woman in the world.

He reached out and gently cupped one of her breasts with his hands, running his thumb over the tight nub of her nipple. "I want to taste you, Bella."

She shivered at the husky promise of his words.

He leaned down, placing a tender kiss on the tip of her breast. She moaned, half-pleasure and half-protest at the all-too-fleeting touch.

He skimmed his finger over the heavy curve of her breast and down the flat of her stomach, his eyes feasting along the way.

He kissed her breasts again. Circling the nipple with long, lazy strokes of his tongue, while his hands continued to wreak havoc with her senses, sliding, teasing, trailing a feathery path along her stomach, hips, and thighs, until they finally dipped between her legs.