Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (27 page)

Her thoughts shuddered to a halt. Dear God, Kelvin had nearly been killed. Her hands trembled at the thought. She had failed him. And why? Because her mind had wandered, because even far from the castle, thoughts of Dugald had plagued her, making her forget her responsibilities, her vows to protect Kelvin. She'd been so immersed in memories—the feel of Dugald's skin, the sound of his voice, the taste of his kiss—that everything else had faded to unreality. Even her ultra-sharp senses had failed her. And tragedy had struck. But William had come to the rescue, had risked his life to save a boy he didn't even know; William, who she found boring and remote. William, whose patient attentions she had ignored for so long.

Her parents were right; she was wild and undisciplined. She must not choose someone who would insult her, then inflame her, who made her forget all but her own selfish desires. Who had no concern for her or Kelvin except how they might aid his cause. Indeed, Kinnaird had never denied that his only interest was in finding a rich bride. In fact, he was not even interested in her in
that
regard, but on an even lower level, a level so primitive that Shona had never known she possessed such feelings. He had said, with his usual arrogance, that someday her mind and body would be in accord and she would come to him. But he was wrong. Instead, she would choose someone staid and steady, someone mature, who would quell her unruly spirit, who could improve her nature, for it was not just herself she had to care for now. She had vowed to protect the lad with her life, vowed on her honor, and failed! Had it not been for William's quick wit and selfless courage, Kelvin's life would surely have been forfeited.

Guilt gnawed at Shona like a hungry beast; fatigue wore at her soul. But she had one more thing to do before she found her own bed. Rising to her feet, Shona turned and strode resolutely out of the room and down the winding stone stairs.

The hall grew hushed when she entered it. She clasped her hands together, praying for strength, for forgiveness for her weaknesses, "I would beg your attention for a moment," she called.

The place grew still as faces of family, friends, and strangers turned toward her.

"As ye have all probably heard, Kelvin was attacked by a wolf this day. I failed..." Her voice broke, but she cleared her throat, pushing away the horrid images of what might have happened had William been a little slower, had his mind wandered as hers had. “I failed to keep him safe. Were it not for Laird William..." She turned toward him, feeling weak and small. "Twas a very brave and selfless thing he did." She paused a moment, steadying her own mind. "For that I would thank ye, William...and accept your offer of marriage."

Shona awoke slowly. The hour was yet early, the sun not quite over the horizon. The world was still cast in a predawn pearlescent gray, but she felt no need to sleep longer. Neither did she wish to awaken. Instead, she wanted nothing more than to lie in oblivion, to forget her obligations as well as her shortcomings. But neither would be forgotten.

She had promised to keep Kelvin safe and she had failed in that mission. She had been distracted, careless, drawn away into her disturbing thoughts of Dugald.

Aye, she had failed. But she would not fail again. She would be the epitome of good sense and self-control, and she had already taken the first step: she had become betrothed to William.

Shona closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the reactions to her announcement the previous night. Her parents, regardless of their own recommendations to marry William, had looked shocked. Sara and Rachel had uttered dutiful congratulations, Hadwin had been sober, and Stanford had wept openly. She had scanned the hall, but Dugald had been nowhere to be seen. And a good thing, too, for he was surely the last person she needed to muddle her thinking. Not that she was unsure of her decision.

William was a good man. Solid, steady, fatherly. Still, something inside her ached with her decision.

She had gone to bed soon after her announcement, but Dragonheart had hung cold and heavy against her skin, making her rest fitful and frustrating. Finally she had slipped it from her neck and hung it over a peg on the opposite wall. She could see it now, its ruby glowing like a single angry eye. She remembered how warm it had been at other times, how it would almost purr with a strange, sensual joy when Dugald was near. When he touched her, his hands like magic— No! She would not think of that. She would not! Sitting up quickly, she lunged from her bed.

Twas not too early to begin the day. The festivities were nearly over. There would be guests to whom to bid adieu, and preparations to make for her wedding.

Going to Dragonheart, she slipped it from the peg and around her neck, then turned toward her window. The shutters stood slightly ajar, allowing her a gray-shadowed glimpse of the bailey, the courtyard and the stables beyond. She remembered where Dugald slept as vividly as she recalled her own name. Was he awake? Was he thinking of her? Had he heard of her plans to wed? Did he, even now— God's wrath! Slamming the shutters closed, she jerked angrily about. Twas thoughts of him that had made her neglect Kelvin before. She would not do so again.

Yanking her door open, she hurried down the hall to check on the lad. His portal opened with only a slight creak. Upon the wide straw-stuffed mattress, a plethora of boys slept, arms and legs spread everywhere. But Kelvin was alone on a small pallet, giving his wounds a chance to heal. He lay on his side with his lips slightly parted and his hair tousled. For a moment she was tempted to cross the floor and smooth the hair from his brow, to make certain he was still breathing. But such would be folly. There was no need to wake the child. Fiona had said that he needed nothing more than sleep and time to help him mend completely.

She retraced her steps to her room and closed the door behind her.

Refusing to take one more glance out the window, she drew her nightrail over her head with a sigh.

"So ye will marry William?"

"Dugald!" Shona gasped as she spun toward the voice and hugged her nightrail to her chest. He stood in the corner, not three feet from her bed. "What are ye doing here?"

"Watching you."

Desire immediately coiled tight and hungry in her gut. She hugged her gown more tightly to her.

"How did ye get in?"

He didn't answer, but said instead, "You should keep your door closed, lass. You never know what lowly soul might breech the sanctity of your quarters."

She stepped back a pace, seeing the anger in his eyes. "I realize that now. In fact, I will make certain to bar myself in from this moment forward."

"Tis a bit late to lock the stable door after the stallion has already mingled with the mares."

She raised a brow at him, trying to calm her breathing. "Ye see yourself as a stallion, do ye?"

"Twas just a figure of speech, Shona," he said, approaching her again. "But if that's how you feel, do not be afraid to state your opinion."

"Stay back!" Her voice sounded far more panicked than she had hoped.

He stopped. "Why? I have only come to wish you all the best and to kiss the future bride."

She swallowed. "I dunna think that is such a good idea."

"Whyever not? You did not mind kissing me before."

"Twas different then."

"Different? However so?" he asked, stepping forward again.

"That was before..." She crowded back against the wall.

"Before what? Before you decided that one's title and properties were more important than his soul?"

"What do ye mean by that?"

"This William?" He stopped inches from her. She could feel his nearness like a hot, tangible force. "Are you saying you do not care for his wealth? That you marry him because you admire him so? That his ties to the throne hold no appeal for you?"

"Tis none of your concern why I marry him," she said.

He reached out to touch her. She tried to draw away, but the wall was behind her. His fingers stroked across her cheek. She nearly shivered at the touch, but managed to hold herself unmoving.

“Mayhap he has a magical allure that you cannot resist," Dugald said. "Mayhap when he is near you cannot keep yourself from him."

She bit her lip. Even now, when he baited her, she wanted nothing more than to fly into his arms.

“Mayhap his touch is like heaven, like magic, beyond understanding." His fingers brushed her ear, and now she did shiver, letting the gossamer feelings sweep through her like fine wine. "Mayhap you lie awake at night thinking of naught but him."

Dugald's voice was no more than a whisper, a sliver of sound that pierced her soul as his hand scooped behind her neck, pulling her nearer. Against her better judgment, she was drawn forward, and suddenly his hps were a breath from hers and his hand skimmed down her bare back to her waist.

"Mayhap he has cast a spell upon you. A spell you would not break even if you could. There is no logic to the things he makes you say and do," Dugald murmured, "and yet you long to be near him.

To feel his fingers against your skin. To breathe in his scent, to be naked beneath him."

His hand slipped lower, feather soft, over the curve of her bare buttocks.

"Dugald!" She breathed his name, praying he would leave, but hoping he would not.

"Mayhap your dreams are filled with him," he whispered, slipping his hand down her arm and taking her nightrail from her numb fingers. In an instant he had tugged it away and dropped it to the floor.

She had no way to shield herself from him now. No way to hold the raw, aching desire at bay.

He glanced down. She watched him look at her, and though she knew she should cover herself, she had no wish to do so, for the admiration in his eyes was like a bold caress, as potent as a lover's hot kiss.

She watched his nostrils dilate, watched his self-control slip a notch. A muscle flexed in his jaw, but he held himself still as his gaze swept from her shoulders to her thighs and back.

Shona's nipples hardened under his gaze. She knew she should send him away. But his arm was firm around her back, and her will was weak. He lifted his left hand. As light as a breeze, his fingers touched her breast. She shivered beneath his touch, and though a thousand angels told her to draw away, she let her lids fall closed and her body arch toward him.

His palm cupped her breast, and when next he spoke, his tone was throaty.

"Mayhap your every thought is filled with him," Dugald continued. “His laughter, his beauty, his grace. And though you know you are a fool, you do not care what he is, what he is hiding from you, what he has done, for you would risk your very life for a moment in his arms." She felt his breath on her skin, and then his lips touched her brow. "To be in his dreams." He kissed her cheek. "In his bed,"

he murmured, and kissed her lips.

She could not help herself. She was weak and she knew it, but his allure was too strong. He was speaking every traitorous thought she had of Dugald. He knew every shameful feeling that sparked through her when he was near. And she could no longer deny it. Her kiss answered his with a heat of its own.

He pressed her back onto the bed. She tugged at his tunic, pulling it free of his plaid, so that her hands could find the hard, rounded muscle of his chest. Strength rippled beneath her fingers, but it was not enough. She needed him naked, needed his skin pressed against hers. He made no objections when she sought the buckle of his belt.

His fingers joined hers in their frenzied quest, and in a moment they were pressed together, flesh against flesh. His thigh lay beneath hers as he leaned over her, kissing her throat, her shoulder, her breast.

Shona arched against him as fire spurred through her. He suckled her nipple into his mouth and she twined her fingers through his hair, trying to hold the world steady as fire exploded inside her.

But in a moment he was moving on, blazing a trail of kisses over her ribs, her belly and her hip.

She writhed beneath him, still holding his hair as she bent her legs and ached to ease the building inferno within her. His hands slipped over her thighs. His kisses followed, easing down her sensitive flesh until her legs quivered with her suppressed longing.

She jumped at the explosion of feeling, jerking on his hair as she did so. But Dugald failed to notice. Instead, he kissed her again. She jerked beneath his caresses. His tongue touched her sensitive folds.

"Dugald," she gasped.

He kissed her thighs, her belly then crept upward. His erection, hard and long, brushed between her legs.

"What do ye want?" he rasped.

She tried to answer. But there were no words. Instead, she pulled his head to her and kissed him. Dragonheart glowed hot and heavy between them.

He drew away from her lips, kissing her cheek, her ear. Against her belly, his desire throbbed with the heat of a volcano. She pressed against it with indescribable need.

"Tell me what ye want, Shona."

She did not delay an instant. "I want ye," she whispered. "Now. This instant."

"Me?" he rasped, pressing against her. "Me and none other?"

"Ye." She found his lips again and kissed them. "Please, Dugald."

He skimmed his hand down her hip, shivering as he did so. "So you know, lass. You know the truth. You are not meant for a man who can bring you wealth and position, but does not move your soul."

Shona went still. Memory flooded back. Guilt came with it. She was betrothed. She was promised. What was wrong with her?

“You were meant for me. For passion. For life. Not for politics and intrigue. I will keep you safe. Isle Fois is—"

"Nay!" she gasped and pushed away. Passion made her careless, made her foolish. And she could not afford to be foolish.

Dugald slipped to the mattress, watching her from inches away. The muscles of his chest felt hard as glass against her breast, and the hard length of his arousal throbbed against her side, making it impossible to remember what she was about to say.

"I will protect you, Shona. It does not matter what you've done," he whispered fervently, slipping his hand along her side.