As High as the Heavens (31 page)

"I can't ... I dare not say." She turned her head away.
"Just let me go, Duncan. It's past time we were returning to the cottage."

His hand dropped from her face. He clasped her arm
with a firm grip.

"Nay." A fierce determination burned in his eyes. "Ye'll go nowhere until I have the answers I seek. And if ye
won't answer me in words, then I'll make ye answer me
in another way."

Her eyes widened. Panic twined about her heart.
"What ... what do ye mean to do?"

"Dinna fash yerself, lass." Duncan smiled, his mouth
softening until it was full and ripe and sensuous. "I don't
mean to finish what those two outlaws began. I only
mean to kiss ye."

Before Heather could fathom the true intent behind
his words, much less protest, Duncan's head lowered.
He captured her lips in a deep, slanting kiss. She stood
there a moment, stock still, dumbfounded at the sudden
turn of events. Then reality returned.

With a muffled cry, Heather pounded on his chest,
fought to escape him. In response, Duncan's arms encircled her body, dragging her yet closer. Not for a moment, however, did he pause in his relentless attack on
her mouth ... and her suddenly overloaded senses ...
and heart.

It was all too much, Heather thought, caught up in a
whirling maelstrom of wondrous, melting sensations that
coursed through her body. She didn't want this moment
ever to end. It was too delicious, too mind-drugging,
too heavenly.

Nothing mattered save that Duncan had come for her,
fought for her, and now held her within the protective
haven of his arms. Nothing mattered but the feel of his
big, hard-muscled body pressed against hers.

She moaned softly, the sound caught somewhere between resistance and surrender. Then, in one sudden surge, all the fight drained away. Heather arched up to
meet him. Her hands entwined about his neck.

A shudder rocked him. Duncan paused, then pulled
away. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, his chest
heaving now, irregular and harsh.

"Och, lass, lass," he rasped thickly. "Ye inflame me so,
with yer sweet mouth and even sweeter body. We must
stop this, and stop this now, or-"

"Or what?" Heather was quick to demand.

He lifted his head, staring deeply into her eyes, his gaze
hot, hungry, and so very, very anguished. "I've wanted
ye for so long now, indeed since the first day I met ye.
Wanted to kiss ye, hold ye, love ye in the most intimate
way a man can love a woman. Not that I could ever be
worthy of ye, or that it was right to think of ye in such
ways..." Duncan sighed. "But, after all these months of
being with ye and working so closely with ye day after
day, no amount of praying could long keep my thoughts
from straying to ye."

"And do ye imagine my need for ye is any less than
yers?"

For a fleeting instant, joy flared in his eyes. Then it
faded.

"It makes me so verra happy to hear ye say that, sweet
lass," he said. "But it doesn't matter. In but another week,
the queen's rescue will have been attempted. Whether we
succeed or fail, our time together is over. Ye'll return to
yer life-as I must to mine-and they are lives that can
never be joined." Duncan averted his gaze. "Especially
now ... now that my father-Malcolm-has died and I
know that I was never who I imagined myself to be."

Heather clutched at his shirt. Her hands twisted in
the coarse, homespun fabric. Och, how she wanted to
tell him he hadn't a care in the world for who he was,
that he was as noble in birth as she and that it would
take more than some imagined difference in their social
classes to keep them apart.

But she couldn't. She had given her word to her father. In the remote likelihood that Duncan prematurely
knowing the truth might endanger the success of the
plot, she still didn't dare risk telling him.

But, though she couldn't tell him all just now, she
could give him her heart and her love. That gift might
ultimately still be faint compensation for the great advantage of his true birth, but Heather knew now it was
a risk she was willing to take. Perhaps she, in the end,
would fall prey to the same entrapment of the heart
as had her mother and sister, but she thought not, she
hoped not.

Duncan was more than just a pretty face and a magnificently conditioned body. He was also a good, honorable,
brave, and intelligent man. He cared for others, tried his
very best to treat them fairly. He strove to live his life by
the highest of principles. And though he made her laugh
and cry, had even made her angry at times, whatever he
did, whenever he was with her, Heather felt happier and
more alive than she had ever felt before.

Though she might ultimately never wed Duncan and
instead be forced to go to another, for this precious moment in time she was his. Heather lifted on tiptoe to
brush her lips across his.

"I don't care what the world perceives us to be. I know ye, Duncan Mackenzie, and ye're the finest man I've ever
met or could ever hope to meet. Indeed"-she smiled
up at him, her whole heart in that look-"if the truth be
told, I love ye. Love ye with all my heart."

The expression in his striking eyes turned warm, tender. "I don't know what to say, lass. To hear ye speak such
wondrous words ... well, it boggles my mind and fills
me with great happiness." He paused to brush a tendril
of hair from her face. "But still I fear ... I fear ..."

"What, Duncan?" Heather prompted when he was
slow to finish. "What do ye fear?"

He inhaled a shuddering breath. "I fear that, in the end,
I'll still lose ye. There's yet so much standing between
us-yer father, yer betrothal to another, my questionable
heritage, and my obligations to the only woman I dare
call Mither. And, though I want ye so badly I ache with
the longing, I won't have ye any way save as wife."

"And when did I ever say I'd accept such an offer, if
that's indeed what ye're offering?" Heather asked with
an impish grin.

Her attempt at humor fell flat with him. "Ye know I
can't make such an offer, lass. It'd be ludicrous."

She thought she knew why he imagined wedding her
was an impossibility. That knowledge, however, still
didn't do much to ease the sting of his rejection.

Heather gave a snort of disgust and began to turn
away. "Pish, ye men are all alike," she muttered. "Ye hunt
us as avidly as dogs on a scent. Then, when ye finally
capture our hearts, ye immediately lose interest."

Duncan grabbed her by the arm, spinning her back
around. "It isn't that way at all," he growled, anger darkening his countenance and tightening his lips. "I
haven't lost interest in ye and never will. But I'm not
worthy of ye and will never be. Would ye wish me to
think only of myself?"

"Nay, Duncan." Heather jerked free of his hold. "I
would wish, though, for ye to at least have the courage
of yer convictions and be a man of yer word. Ye've yet
even to admit if ye love me or not, and that after I've
bared my heart to ye."

"Och, is that what this is all about then?" He gave
an unsteady laugh and shoved his fingers through his
hair. "Ye think I don't love ye and but play some game
with ye?"

"Don't ye?"

"Nay, lass. I play no game."

Duncan reached out to draw Heather to him, but she
stepped back. Confusion clouded his eyes.

"Och, lass, don't go and work yerself into a frenzy now.
I love ye. But love isn't always enough."

"Apparently not!"

Och, Heather thought in dismay, how could I have been
such a fool? I've played right into his hands. Thank God
Duncan's at least honorable enough not to take advantage
of me. But the pain of his rejection, of loving him and not
being loved as equally in turn, is almost past bearing.

"Lass," he said, compassion gleaming in his eyes,
"don't go on so. It isn't at all how ye imagine it to be."

"Isn't it?" Heather laughed, the sound high-pitched
and strained. "Well, no matter. Naught was lost but a bit
of my pride. And now it's past time we were returning
to the cottage, wouldn't ye say?"

"Nay, I wouldn't say!"

In a swift move, Duncan took two steps, swung Heather
up into his arms, and stalked off toward a fallen log about
fifty feet away. For an instant, Heather fought to catch
her breath. Then she began to struggle in his arms.

"What do ye think ye're doing?" she demanded, outraged. "Put me down, I say. Let me go!"

"Nay, I won't," Duncan said with a resolute shake of
his head, "until we talk this out. Until I can convince ye,
once and for all, of my true feelings for ye."

"I never said..." At the memory of her words earlier,
Heather flushed crimson. "Well," she corrected herself
hastily, "that wasn't what I meant, at any rate."

"Then exactly what did ye mean?"

"I meant ... I meant ... Och, I don't know what
I meant!" Tears sprang to Heather's eyes and coursed
down her cheeks. "Och, curse ye, Duncan Mackenzie,"
she wailed. "I don't know what I meant, and it's all yer
fault!"

At the first sign of her tears, Duncan slid to a halt
and lowered Heather back to stand on the ground. "My
fault, is it?" He rolled his eyes. "I go to the limits of my
endurance to treat ye honorably, and it's still my fault?
Truly, lass, ye never cease to confound me."

Heather pounded his shoulder once with her fist, then,
still sobbing, gripped his shirt and rested her forehead on
his chest. "When it c-comes to ye, I c-can't help it," she
cried, hiccupping between sobs. "Ye frighten me s-so."

"Och, lass, lass." Duncan encircled her with his arms
and pulled her close. "It breaks my heart to hear ye
speak such words. I don't wish ever to hurt or frighten ye. Indeed, I love ye so deeply that I'd sacrifice everything-even my honor, if need be-for ye." He leaned
back, crooked a finger beneath her chin, and lifted her
gaze to meet his. "Just tell me what ye want of me and
I'll do it."

Heather looked up at him, saw the tenderness, the
caring, the love burning in his eyes. A fierce joy swelled
within her. Duncan truly did love her. Loved her with his
whole heart and soul, loved her so deeply that he'd do
anything for her. Surely, surely, it was safe to surrender
her heart to him.

"Ye've given me all that I need," she whispered, hastily
swiping away her tears. "Ye have for a long while now.
The failing has never been in ye but in me, in my inability
to accept ye for the man ye really are."

Duncan's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "I don't understand."

She gave an unsteady laugh. "Aye, I'd imagine ye don't.
It's hard enough even for me to sort out."

He took her hand and led her to the log. "Sit, lass, and
tell me what ye can. There's naught ye can say that will
scandalize me, and so much I yet need to know about
ye." He smiled, and the act softened his rugged features
until Heather thought she'd weep again at the love and
tender concern she saw there. "So much more I dearly
want to know."

The rich scent of damp earth rose to mingle with the
heady tang of mint and spice from the leaves of the
nearby foliage. Heather took a seat on the log and inhaled
deeply, willing the pleasant odors to fill her, strengthen her. Then she turned, as Duncan settled down on the log
beside her, and met his steady gaze.

"My mother died of a broken heart," Heather began,
"my only sister at the hands of a husband she'd fallen
madly in love with, yet who had never, ever, been worthy
of her ..." For the next several minutes, she proceeded
to recount what had finally led to her resolve never to
allow her own heart to be ensnared by a man.

"Then, atop it all," she said, finishing at last, "my father was never the man I'd thought him to be, a truth
I'd known all my life, even as I managed to deny it for
so many years. What choice had I, at any rate? I'm a
woman, not to mention a dutiful daughter, and dependent on him for everything." She paused, then sighed.
"Mayhap ye'll find the reasons for my decision to avoid
love cowardly, but there they are."

Duncan was silent for a long moment, a moment that
stretched on for an agonizing eternity as Heather sat
there beside him, fearing the worst. If he should turn
from her now ...

"I can't fault ye for what ye did," he said finally. "Ye
were protecting yerself, yer heart, in the only way ye
knew how. And I can also see now why ye took such an
instant dislike to me," he added with a wry grin. "I must
have seemed like just the sort of man to avoid."

Relief flooded Heather, making her head spin. She was
thankful she was safely seated on the ground.

"Aye, ye did indeed. To make matters even worse, ye
were the most devastatingly handsome-and well-builtman I'd ever seen, standing there that eve with but a wee
piece of plaid to cover ye." She grinned and shook her head. "It took every bit of my self-control not to swoon
right there on the spot."

Duncan chuckled. "Ye hid it well." He leaned over and
kissed her on the cheek. "In fact, ye hid it so well and
for so long, I began to despair ever of winning even yer
friendship, much less yer heart."

"And I, in turn," she said, tracing a finger down his
cheek and around his mouth, "fretted day and night that
I was acting the foolish girl whenever I was around ye.
Ask Beth, if ye don't believe me."

He leaned yet closer. "I'd rather kiss ye, I think, lass."
His gaze darkened. "But only for a short while and only
one kiss. We must be getting back before yer father comes
looking for us. He suspects us as it is, and I don't wish
to be forced to defend yer honor against yer own father,
even as poor a father as he, in truth, may be."

"Nor do I," Heather said as she closed the remaining
distance between them, "need to besmirch yer honor in
order to test yer love for me. Leastwise," she added softly
just before her lips touched his, "not today. Not today
but soon, my love. God willing and we survive this plot
to save the queen, verra, verra soon."