The Campbell Trilogy (105 page)

I’ve failed.

Jeannie stared helplessly at his back, watched as he put his hand on the latch, taking in every heart-wrenching detail of the man who’d claimed her heart from the first moment she’d seen him, as if by doing so she could hold on to him forever. Her eyes scanned the tall, powerful frame, the wide shoulders, narrow waist and long muscular legs, the big callused hands, and the silky black hair that curled at his neck.

He was a fortress of masculine strength—seemingly indestructible.

Seemingly, there was the rub. He might look like a rock, but he was flesh and blood.

Fear, panic, and desperation conspired in one final attempt to make him see what she could not explain: That if he left now, he might never return. “Duncan, wait, you can’t go. I …”

Dear God, what can I say?
How could she make him understand without betraying her father and putting his life—and the lives of her clansmen—in danger?

The politics of who was right and who was wrong in the religious dispute between Huntly and the king meant nothing to her. All that mattered was that two men she loved were on opposite sides—how could she protect them both?

If she told Duncan what she’d learned, she knew him well enough to know that he would consider himself duty bound to inform his cousin of her father’s perfidy. He could not stand aside and allow a wrong to go unchecked. Betrayal such as her father intended to a man of integrity like Duncan would not be worthy of understanding or mercy. Duncan would always do what was right and just, no matter the personal cost. She knew that about him.

But if she didn’t tell Duncan—or somehow stop him from leaving—her father’s treachery would put Duncan in grave physical danger. No matter what she did, Jeannie knew all hope of their family being persuaded to make a match between them was gone. It was the other match that worried her—the one her father had arranged to Francis Gordon and which she’d unwittingly agreed to. She felt a twinge of guilt. Her father had invoked a powerful weapon: duty. She wanted to be a good daughter and defying him would be extremely difficult.

She was caught in an impossible quandary, torn between two conflicting loyalties. Either way she lost.

Somehow she had to convince Duncan to heed her warning, but she had to be careful. He was too astute—he might guess what was happening if she said too much.

He looked back at her over his shoulder, his handsome face set hard against her with cold determination.

It was the way he looked at other people—not her. His ability to shut off his emotions so completely, so easily, unsettled her.

“I need to do this, Jeannie. Don’t make it harder than it already is.”

Hard?
What a prodigious understatement. He had no idea how this was tearing her apart.

She ran toward him and put her hand on his arm, tears of fear and frustration streaming in hot rivulets down her cheeks. She gazed up at him, imploring him with all the love in her heart. “Please, you can’t leave like this.”

He stood very still and didn’t say anything, but the edges of his mouth turned white. He was fighting something.
Me
, she realized. Denying her
was
hard for him. It was a small crack in an otherwise impenetrable façade. Gently, he unlatched her fingers from around his arm and turned away from her.

Her heart twisted with a fresh spike of panic.
He’s going to leave. Stop him. Hold on to him.
Not knowing what else to do, she flung herself against him, putting herself between him and the door.

She clung to his mail-clad chest, but he wouldn’t look at her. His expression stony and unreadable, only the tick below his jaw betrayed his effort. She couldn’t bear that he was holding himself apart like this. “Please, don’t be angry with me,” she begged, tears choking her voice. “I know you think I’m being silly and was foolish to have come here like this. I can explain.” Her chest heaved as she fought to breathe between the sobs. “I’m just so scared.”

Perhaps it was the honesty of the emotion that finally penetrated, but suddenly his arms were around her and she felt the comforting security of being held against him. He stroked her hair and murmured soothingly, “I know, my love, I know. But have faith in me.”

I do. But I’ve no faith in treachery.

He gazed down at her and their eyes locked. She couldn’t breathe, waiting, hoping. Her mouth quivered as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. The tenderness in his eyes gripped her heart. She loved him so much. The thought of life without him was too horrible to contemplate. “Please.” She lifted her mouth to his, needing the reaffirmation—needing him.

His fingers tightened around her chin as if he was trying to resist the pull, but the desire and the indelible connection between them was stronger than them both.

He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, his kiss achingly soft, achingly tender, comforting her with the caress of his warm, silky lips.

Her heart rose up to her throat, the relief to her frayed emotions acute. In the safety of his embrace she knew that everything was going to be all right.

The heat of his body warmed her, gentle and soothing, taking away the chill like the morning sun on a bed of dew.

She tasted him through the salt of her tears, the dark, spicy masculine essence of forbidden fruit. So irresistible it had to be sinful. One taste and she was lost.

But the tender kiss was like a sprinkle of rain on a raging wildfire—too gentle, too sweet to douse the flames of her fear. Only the fierce downpour of passion could tame the desperate maelstrom lashing inside her.

Don’t let him go.

She sank against him, seeking the reassurance of his solid strength. Leather and steel bit into her chest, but she didn’t care. He was hard and steady, a rock in a stormy sea, and as long as she could hold on to him, nothing could go wrong.

He groaned, sensing her need, threading his fingers through her hair to grip her neck and bring her mouth more firmly against his.

His lips moved over hers, roughly, passionately. The comfort and tenderness of moments before turned hard and possessive. Demanding. All of the emotion that he’d fought to contain exploded in a rush of hot, searing lust. She could taste his hunger, his desire, and her body heated with awareness. Sensation shot through her in hot, shimmering waves. All she could think about was the way that he’d touched her, covering her with his big hands, pushed inside her and thrust until the heavens had parted and she’d glimpsed paradise.

He smelled incredible. She inhaled the wind and the sun, a potent primitive scent that only increased her urgency. It filled her mind with wicked thoughts. She wanted to feel him naked against her. Wanted to slide her mouth and tongue over his chest and taste the salt of his hot skin as he pounded inside her, working them both to a frantic lather.

Her hands clutched his shoulders, gripping hard, trying to bring him even closer. She stretched against the hard length of his body, lifting up on her tiptoes to circle her hands around his neck, seeking …

His hand slid down her back to cup her bottom and lift her firmly against him.

Oh, God, yes.
Pleasure broke over her in heavy waves. Her body softened. Tingled. The strange fluttering awakened low in her belly, damp and insistent. She circled against him, instinctively seeking friction to ease the anxious pressure.

He growled, a fierce primal sound that called to a place deep inside her. An erotic, carnal place she was only just discovering. She wanted to make him sound like that always. Crazy with need. Crazy for her.

He lifted her leg to circle his waist and pinned her back up against the door. The hard column of his desire pressed insistently between her legs. This time his size did not bring fear, only eagerness. She remembered all
too viscerally his fullness inside her, hot and heavy, stretching her, driving her home to oblivion.

She wanted him there now.

And he wanted it, too. Badly. She could feel the hammering of his heart, the taut muscles flexing under her fingertips, the jerkiness of his movements. The air verily crackled with danger. His passion was like a cask of gunpowder in her hands, ready to explode.

His tongue was in her mouth, probing with long, wicked strokes that left no part of her unclaimed. She opened against him, wanting it even deeper. Harder. Wetter. Her entire body ached for him. Need obscured everything else.

No longer bound by innocence, she knew what this man could do to her and she wanted that feeling again. Over and over until they collapsed in a sated heap of naked entwined limbs. Until he never wanted to leave her again.

His mouth dropped to her throat, his hand clutched her breast, squeezing, their bodies undulating toward only one conclusion.

He tugged her stays and bodice down to access her breasts, almost tearing the fabric in his urgency. She cried out when his mouth covered her, when he sucked her deep into her mouth, tugging her throbbing nipple between his teeth as his hips rocked against her.

God, she could feel it. Feel the pleasure building. The heat intensifying, concentrating at her very core.

He fumbled with the ties at his waist. A moment later she heard his sporran and scabbard hit the ground, then felt the air on her bare skin as he lifted her skirts.

She was so wet, so hot, literally shaking with desire, her need all consuming.

He lifted his head from her breast and gazed into her half-lidded eyes. His eyes were hooded, dark with passion, every muscle in his face and neck tight with strain.
“I can’t wait,” he growled through clenched teeth. “God, what do you do to me?” he groaned, his voice raw and exposed—almost angry.

Positioning himself between her legs, he lifted them around his waist so that her feet were off the floor, and surged inside her with a deep, guttural groan of pure masculine satisfaction.

She gasped from the exquisite force, her back slamming against the door as if to mark his possession. Because that’s what it was—possession. She felt his power surge inside her, every inch of his six foot plus muscled frame poised and straining against her. He was so big and hard, filling her completely, the weight of her body taking him even deeper. She let the sensation wash over her, over and over. It was incredible, beautiful in its primitive perfection. She could stay like this forever.

Their eyes met, emotion breaking through the haze of unfettered passion. She felt his love for her as surely as if he’d just reached out and touched her heart. “You are so damned beautiful,” he kissed her again, hard and punishing. “You make me lose my mind.”

“Good,” she whispered, wriggling him even deeper. “I like you this way.”

His eyes flared, any control he’d managed snapped. Her legs tightened around his waist as his hands gripped her naked bottom. The feel of his big, callused warrior’s hands hard and demanding on her soft flesh sent fresh tingles up her spine. He kissed her again, and his hips started to move, thrusting hard and deep. The force of each stroke shuddered through her, setting off wave after wave of sensation. She gave over to him completely, not knowing that anything could feel like this. Not realizing passion could be so fierce and furious.

Her breath was coming in short gasps, echoing his sharp grunts. Her heart was pounding. Heat engulfed her. She could feel it coming. Faster and faster, he
plunged into her, his powerful body surging into her with every thrust.

“I can’t,” he growled through clenched teeth, his face a mask of tortured restraint. She knew he was waiting …

Her body contracted. “Oh, God,” she cried out as the spasms ripped through her in wave after hot wave.

But her cries were drowned by his. He held her hips and thrust into her one more time, holding her against him as his body jerked with his own release. A guttural sound of raw ecstasy tore from his chest. Warmth rushed between her legs.

When it was over, Jeannie couldn’t move. Utterly spent, utterly boneless, her entire body sagged like a poppet made of rags in his arms.

His breathing was still coming hard when his eyes found hers. “God, I’m sorry.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Whatever for?”

Shame tinged his handsome features. “For taking you like a damned animal. Look at us.” Gently he eased himself out of her and lowered her to the ground. Her body chilled, protesting the sudden emptiness and loss of his heat. Her legs were a little shaky but she managed to stand upright—not a small feat with jelly in her bones. Boyish befuddlement clouded his gaze. “I’ve never been like this before. Something comes over me …” his voice dropped off. “You deserve to be worshipped, to be made love to properly. On a damned bed for starters.”

He looked so chagrined. She put her hand on his cheek, the rough stubble scratching her palm. “It was wonderful. I love what you do to me.” She smiled. “I can’t imagine anything more …” her cheeks heated, “proper.” She tilted her head. “But I suppose there is one way we could rectify the situation.”

His gaze sharpened, hot and penetrating. “How’s that?”

She glanced past his shoulder to the narrow bed, her fingers starting to work the fastenings of his mail at his shoulders. “You could show me all that I’ve allegedly been missing.”

Heat flared in his gaze. “Do I detect a challenge, my lady?”

She gave an exaggerated shrug, her eyes dancing wickedly. “If you aren’t too tired. You were doing all the work, after all.”

“I assure you, my love, it wasn’t work.” He kissed her, nuzzling her mouth with his lips and tongue, then moving onto her ear. “Nor am I tired,” he breathed against the damp skin, sending a shiver down her spine. He scooped her up into his arms. “Though I appreciate your concern for my welfare.”

She giggled and whacked his chest. “What are you doing? Let me down.”

A very naughty grin spread across his gorgeous face. “I think not. I intend to show you exactly how to do this properly.”

And he did—twice—though she suspected there was nothing proper about it at all.

Hours later, Jeannie collapsed in an exhausted heap of naked entwined limbs just as she’d wanted. But never could she have imagined the absolute contentment, the intimacy forged in the arms of another. She could stay like this forever, tucked under his arm, her head resting on his shoulder, her cheek pressed to bare skin. This might be her favorite place in the entire world. She inhaled his warm, masculine scent, savoring the moment and knowing she would remember it always.