Page 13 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)
O scar had heard a story once, of a mythical hero named Orpheus who had ventured down to the underworld, fending off creatures and arguing with gods, to save the woman he loved.
Granted his request to bring his beloved Eurydice back from the underworld, there had been just one rule: no matter what, do not look back to see if she was following.
It had been one of his mother’s favorite stories, but Oscar had never understood the tragic ending, had never understood why Orpheus didn’t have enough discipline to keep looking forward.
Now, Oscar felt he could sympathize a little more, battling every intense urge to look back to see if Maddie was, indeed, behind him.
She wouldnae be daft enough to stay out in the woods in the dark, he told himself, listening out for the sound of her footfalls. She hadn’t been stealthy in her approach to the lake, but, if she was there behind him, she’d certainly learned how to be catfooted.
“There’s a huntin’ cabin nae far from here,” he said, certain he would gain a reaction.
“Good for any hunters who happen to be in these woods,” she replied immediately, bringing a smile to his lips.
He didn’t turn; he didn’t need to anymore. “I could get ye warm before we return to the castle. Ye wouldnae want yer friend to think ye’ve caught a chill.”
“I am perfectly warm, thank you,” she muttered, closer than he’d expected her to be. “So, whatever notion is running through your head, you can halt it immediately. This can’t ever happen again.”
He laughed quietly to himself. “What can’t happen again? Nothin’ has happened yet, lass.”
If it had, we’d be back at the loch, ye screamin’ me name so loud ye’d have the foxes howlin’.
A ripple thrummed through him, stoking the heat in his loins that he’d only just managed to cool. He couldn’t help it; the mere thought of her had an instant effect on him, unlike anything he’d experienced before.
“I beg your pardon?” Maddie hissed, suddenly appearing at his side, struggling to keep up with him.
She held her lantern up, the glow shining against the side of his face. “Are you going to pretend that you didn’t kiss me back there or that you’re trying to entice me into a hunting cabin to do it again?”
He cast her a sideways glance, looking past the lantern into her eyes. “Ye dinnae need to get so agitated about a kiss, lass. It’s nay more than holdin’ hands in the grand scheme of what I could do to ye.”
“If you hadn’t put your shirt back on, I would stuff it in your mouth,” she groused, radiating a fury that only made him want to chuckle. “Stop saying... rude things! You’re just doing it to toy with me, thinking yourself highly amusing.”
There’s nothin’ amusin’ about the ache ye’ve left with yer rejection.
Starved of satisfaction, he simply couldn’t suppress the hunger that gnawed in his veins.
If she kept taunting him, he couldn’t be held responsible when he hoisted her up into his arms, pinned her against a tree, and kissed her until she pleaded for more.
He thought of her soft, eager lips, matching the ferocity of his passion; the glide of her tongue against his; the way she’d slid her fingertips into his hair, tugging gently; the stirring press of her lithe body, flush against his.
And how fervently he’d longed to tear away that concealing dress, to sink his fingertips into smooth flesh, to satisfy his hunger with his teeth, tongue, touch. ..
“You’re not permitted to touch me again, in any capacity, without my verbal or written consent,” she added, dropping back a step. “I’d ask you to cease your flirtations, too, but then you’d have no choice but to be utterly silent.”
Oscar stopped abruptly, turning to face her.
With her chin to her chest, still mumbling her displeasure under her breath, she didn’t notice he’d halted until she smacked into the hard muscle of his chest.
Reeling back, she put her hand to her brow, squinting up at him. “What did you do that for?”
“Ye have yer wish, me sweet, blushin’ bride,” he said, ignoring the impulse to draw her hand away to make sure she hadn’t bruised herself.
“I willnae touch ye again, nae even when me withholdin’ drives ye to the brink of madness.
I willnae touch ye, whether ye ask nicely or nae.
And when ye cannae bear it anymore, when ye’re on yer knees with me name a plea on yer lips, when all ye can think of is me touch, I still might nae reconsider. ”
It was all bluster. If she were to pull him to her right then, he’d have savored her until they were both spent and panting, but he could tell by the frown on her face that she believed every word.
A flicker of hesitation creased the corners of her bright eyes, her forefinger prodding up the bridge of her spectacles as the lenses fogged a little.
“I once told you that you had a very high opinion of yourself,” Maddie replied stiffly. “I have no doubt that my abstinence will bring that opinion down a peg or two, especially when you see that it’s no struggle at all for me to not be touched by you.”
He nodded slowly. “And I recall that I replied that I had a high opinion of meself for good reason. I said ye’d understand if ye saw me swing a sword.
” He leaned in closer, putting his arms behind his back so he wouldn’t accidentally touch her.
“It wouldnae have been polite, then, for me to mention me other talents. It’s nae just the way I fight that would have ye in awe, lass.
I wager it will be ye who breaks first.”
“Never,” she insisted, tilting her chin up in defiance.
Offering her nothing but a knowing smile, he turned around and kept walking. Anything to distract himself from temptations that would make him lose the wager instead, and being so near to her was his greatest risk.
She’ll surrender. I ken it. All I have to do is be patient.
That had never been his forte, but he remembered what she had said about anticipation and reward.
When she finally came to him, begging him to touch her, to claim her, he had no doubt that it would be more than worth the wait.
He’d just have to be careful not to rush when that moment arrived, for when it did, he wanted it to last until she couldn’t take any more.
By the time he entered the castle, the intensity of his craving for his bride had eased to the point where he might actually rest well. Maybe, he’d dream of her, but there would be no restless torment keeping him awake.
He paused as he heard the echo of her footsteps on the flagstones. “I trust ye can remember yer way to yer bedchamber,” he said, smiling at her. “Or would ye like me to help ye find it?”
“Did it take you the length of that walk to come up with that?” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I am quite capable of finding my way, thank you.”
He stood between her and the staircase, lingering for a moment. “Aye, but ye never ken what might be lurkin’ in these hallways. An escort is always wise.”
“Yet the danger, I think, will be wherever you are,” she said, squaring her shoulders as she marched on past him. “Goodnight, Oscar. I shall see you tomorrow.”
He watched her depart, mesmerized by the sway of her hips in the dark green gown, wishing he’d attended dinner if only to see her enter the room in that dress. “Goodnight, Maddie.” He admired the gleam of her hair as it caught the soft light. “See ye tomorrow, me blushin’ bride.”
As she ascended the stairs, vanishing around the bend with a rustle of silk and petticoats, he could have sworn he heard her mutter, “I do not blush!”