Page 17

His body was on fire. Patrick had never been more aroused in his life. His shy, sweet little Lizzie had turned into a bold seductress. She could bring him to his knees like this. Hell, she already had.

All his honorable intentions were forgotten in the space of one long heartbeat.

I want you inside me.

He'd almost come right then, his body already pushed to the edge by the seductive press of her sweet little body against his. His ironclad control shattered into fragments. All he could think about was tossing her down, twining her legs around him, and thrusting up high inside her until the demons roaring in his head quieted. Until these powerful, terrifying emotions unleashed by her tender declaration let him go. Until the burning in his chest stopped.

She loves me. God. He didn't want her love. It was too great a responsibility. He would only hurt her. But for one reckless moment he'd been moved beyond words, humbled by her gift. Almost … happy.

His kiss was brutal, punishing, for making him feel like this. He was desperate. Out of control. Never had he experienced this kind of irrational urgency. He needed her. Like a starving man needed food. Like a dying man needed salvation. Now. Before everything went to hell. Before she could change her mind.

Though she seemed in no danger of that. She met him full force, plying his carnal strokes with thrusts and parries of her own. The sensation of her sweet, silky tongue sliding against his, delving in his mouth with eager abandon, drove him wild.

He drank her in. Her heat. Her sweetness. God, he couldn't get enough of her. His tongue circled hers, twining and probing in an anxious rhythm that echoed the pulsing of his erection as he carried her toward the bed.

Her soft little sounds of pleasure were only increasing his agony. Her bottom nudged the heavy head of his cock as he held her, and he thought he was going to explode. The temptation to wrap her legs around his waist and plunge into her heat was almost overwhelming. It would be so easy to lift her skirts and smooth his hand over the velvet softness of her naked bottom, lifting her over him as the weight of her body took him deeper and deeper.

Oh, God. The heavy tug in his groin was unbearable.

What the hell was the matter with him? He was acting like a damn barbarian.

He was a damn barbarian. He wanted to take her over and over. Make her come until she could think of no one else but him. Until he proved that she truly belonged to him.

He broke the kiss long enough to lower her to the pallet, forcing himself to slow, to tame the beast raging inside him. Cursing the absence of his plaid, he divested himself of his jerkin, shirt, and boots and lay down next to her.

The soft press of her body stretched out against his was too much. He wanted to sink into her, to feel all that softness envelop him in its healing embrace. Unable to keep his hands off her for a second longer, he slid his palms down her waist and over her hips, molding every sweet curve through the thin gauzy fabric.

He felt like a bairn with a roomful of sweets. He didn't know where to start, but he was going to eat every sugary piece. Would she melt in his mouth? Dissolve into a warm puddle of syrup?

He scooped up her breasts in his hands. The soft round flesh spilled over his fingers, more lush than he ever could have imagined—and he'd done plenty of that late at night when the discomfort in his loins became unbearable.

Did she touch herself and think of him? He clenched his jaw to fight the surge at the thought of her pale soft hands pleasuring herself while he watched.

Barbarian.

His mouth slid over her jaw and down her throat, her skin as smooth and sweet as cream. “God, you taste incredible,”

he murmured, his tongue sliding a teasing path along the edge of her bodice. “I want to lick every inch of you.”

He lifted her breasts to his face and nuzzled her lightly, inhaling the warm feminine scent in the deep cleft. His thumb grazed the turgid peak through the silky cloth. “Your tight little nipples.” He looked into her eyes intently. “The soft skin above your thighs.”

Her eyes lit with surprise and then with something far more dangerous … curiosity. This woman could unman him.

She squirmed a little in his arms, her impatience fueling his hunger.

His fingers worked the ties of her gown, loosening it enough to ease it down past her shoulders and lift her breasts over the tight confines of her stays, at last revealing her bare chest to his greedy gaze.

He sucked in his breath, letting it out in short, ragged gasps. He loved breasts—big, small, and everything in between—but Elizabeth's were nothing short of spectacular. Mind-blowing. Bury-your-face-and-never-want-to-leave. Every man's erotic fantasy. Lush and round, firm and high, topped by small nipples the same soft pink of her lips. “You're beautiful,”

he groaned.

He almost didn't want to touch her. The porcelain skin looked so delicate and unblemished—too fine for his big, rough hands. But he couldn't resist. He cupped her, and the sensation of all that warm, silky skin under his callused palms forced another groan as he caressed the velvety softness with his hands and fingers.

She didn't break, she shuddered. Arching into his hand, into his mouth, threading her fingers through his hair insistently. He kissed her gently at first, brushing his lips over the smooth, creamy skin, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. He flicked his tongue over her nipple, using the heat of his breath on her damp skin to increase her pleasure. She beaded and tightened, the petal-pink skin darkening to mouthwatering raspberry.

He tamped down the reflexive surge. Hell, he could come just looking at her.

He couldn't wait any longer and took the pink pearl between his teeth and tongue. She moaned, a low, throaty sound that called to him in the most primitive way. God, she was ripe. Like a juicy peach that he couldn't wait to bite into.

He sucked her harder. Deeper. Circling her nipple with his tongue as his hand eased up the edge of her skirt.

She was so incredibly responsive. His hand slid up the inside of her thigh. So incredibly soft. His finger swept her sex, and he jerked, his body weeping to feel the slick heat. So incredibly ready.

He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and devour every inch of her. To press his lips and tongue against her until she shattered. But that would have to wait; they had a lifetime to explore their passion. Though she'd taken the precaution of barring the door, his men could return at any time or someone could come looking for her.

He teased her with his fingers until her hips began to press against his hand. Until the tiny whimpers increased in urgency. Her hands were on his shoulders, on his arms. Sculpting his muscles, clutching him wildly, begging.

She was going to come.

Oh, yes. He swelled hard and hot.

He circled her nipple with his tongue, and when he felt her start to break apart, he sucked her deep into his mouth and pressed his finger against her sensitive spot. She cried out, arching her back against his mouth as her body clenched around his finger with a wave of rippling contractions.

He couldn't take his eyes off her face. She was so beautiful like this, it made his chest ache. Head tossed back. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted. Her raw passion roused him to the breaking point.

He couldn't wait another minute. He needed to be inside her.

He unfastened his breeches, and his cock sprang free. Big and hard and thick with blood. A pearly drop glistened on the tip.

Her eyes widened.

Before she could think about it, he moved over her, rubbing his sensitive head in her damp heat. The groan that went through him shook his entire body. He gritted his teeth against the urge to plunge deep inside. To relieve the unbearable pressure. She was so wet that it was killing him to go slow. He'd been waiting too long for this.

“Please,”

she whispered, looking into his eyes, as if reading his mind. “I need you now.”

The heartfelt desire humbled him as nothing before. He could feel something grip him. An emotion so unfamiliar, he didn't know what to call it. But he knew that the need he had for this woman had nothing to do with lust. She was hope to a dying man.

He looped his arms under her legs and positioned himself at her entry. Slowly, he began to push inside.

He groaned, the pleasure too intense. The tight clench of her body fisted around him like a velvet glove. “God, you feel incredible.”

So amazingly tight. The urge to thrust, to sink into her full hilt, teased the edges of his consciousness.

But he needed to have care for her innocence. Except that nothing about her responses to him felt innocent. Inexperienced, yes, but not innocent. No maidenly shock. No fear. No pain.

She lifted her hips, urging him deeper, and his entire body clenched with restraint. He was too big and she was too small. But nothing in her expression suggested that he was hurting her. Her eyes were half-lidded, hazy with passion.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

Her eyes flickered open, meeting his gaze. He detected a flash of anxiety before she shook her head. “You won't hurt me, Patrick.”

There was something in her voice … He eased into her inch by inch, until he reached the point of no return. Holding her gaze, he thrust, and her body welcomed him without resistance.

Her cry was one of satisfaction, not of pain.

He paused, feeling a moment of surprise, but when she circled her hips he was sucked into a vortex of pleasure so intense that nothing else mattered.

Lizzie was weak with pleasure, her body tingling from the force of the release that he'd teased from her with his skilled fingers—and his mouth. She'd never realized her breasts were so sensitive, but when he'd clasped his lips around her nipple, shards of white hot pleasure had shot through her in a hail of flickering light.

But it was nothing to the sensation of him pushing inside her.

She had to admit that she'd experienced a fleeting moment of doubt when he'd opened his breeches. He was a big man. Thick and long, the heavy round head stood a few inches past his belly button. He was at least twice as big as John—and that had hurt initially.

John. She should tell him….

But the moment she felt him rub against her sensitive flesh, all other thoughts were gone. She wanted to take him into her body. To love him. To give him pleasure and find it in return.

Her body dampened, beckoning him in the most intimate way. The concentration of sensation started all over again as his plump head caressed her, teased her, roused her passion to a frenzied storm.

Until her body was wet and hot with need.

And when she didn't think she could take another minute of his exquisite torture, he entered her, penetrating inch by incredible inch. Stretching her. Filling her.

And with one last plunge, completing her.

Her body sighed, taking him in as if she'd been waiting for this her whole life.

Perhaps she had.

God, she could feel him. Her body tingled around the rock-hard column that pulsed with life inside her. She was a puddle of sensation, ready to be swept away in a maelstrom of passion and desire.

Then suddenly he stopped.

He knew.

It had always been her intention to tell him, but there hadn't been time. A flash of panic penetrated the haze. What if he didn't want her? Their eyes met, and she saw the flicker of surprise. The silent question. But not blame. Not anger.

Relief crashed over her in a warm, shimmering wave of acceptance. The last barrier between them was gone, and Lizzie gave herself over to the power of their lovemaking.

She circled her hips and he started to pump. Slowly at first. Long, languid strokes, sliding in and out with deliberate purpose. Her body clutching around him the entire way—trying to hold on.

He kissed her again. Her mouth. Her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, dragging it between his teeth. She moaned at the sensation of his silky lips closing over her. Laving her with the heat of his mouth and tongue as his arousal stirred her to a wicked frenzy. To a peak such as she'd never known.

She clutched him as if she would never let go, running her hands over his heated skin, over the slabs of tightly defined muscles in his arms and chest, feeling them taut and straining under her fingertips, loving the feel of his hard, powerful body on top of her … inside her.

Propped up over her, he was magnificent, his shoulders impossibly wide and powerful. Tight bands of muscle lined his stomach with every thrust. Just looking at him made her feel weak all over. His dark, silky hair slid forward across his handsome face, tight with the effort to control.

But she didn't want control. She wanted to see the depths of his need for her, the depths of his very soul. She wanted all of him.

“Harder,”

she urged him on. “Don't hold back.”

His eyes were dark with passion. “I can't. I'll hurt you.”

“You won't.”

Her hands gripped his hard flanks and pulled him forcefully against her, lifting her hips to take him even deeper. “Please …”

It was all the encouragement he needed. He let go, and she welcomed him with all the love and acceptance in her heart.

He sank into her again, holding her gaze as he touched the deepest part of her. Again and again. Harder and faster.

He was amazing. All his power, his fierceness, unleashed inside her.

She clenched him tighter with her body, dragging each stroke from him. Until the violent crescendo reached its highest peak. Until all the love she felt for this amazing man converged into one perfect moment of sensual bliss.

It was magic.

This was love. What had happened with John Montgomery paled in comparison with the breathless splendor she felt in Patrick's arms. Not just the pleasure that overwhelmed her body, but the closeness. The emotional connection that made everything so intense. Every touch. Every kiss. Every stroke reverberated through her like wildfire. She felt cherished. Protected. Loved.

And at that perfect moment—when her heart stopped and her body clutched in one last gasp—they touched heaven together.

Their shared cries of release tangled in the warm, sultry air of their pleasure.

The warm rush of his release was caught in the rippling tide of her own.

Their eyes met and wouldn't let go—not even when the last shudder of their bodies had ebbed. And what she saw there touched her soul.

Tears of happiness blurred her vision. Lizzie had found her heart's desire. She loved him, and he loved her. He might not be ready to admit it, but the truth was there in the emerald depths of his heated gaze.

Patrick rolled to the side so as not to crush her, feeling as if he'd just run into a stone wall. Every bone in his body crushed. Every muscle ripped to shreds. Once he'd spent almost a week on the run in the Lomond Hills, evading a score of Campbells, without sleep or food and very little water. He felt like that now. When it had all been over, he'd slept for two days.

What the hell had come over him? He'd never lost himself like that. He'd been wild. Out of control. Possessed by passion unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Passion that had consumed him, wringing out every last ounce of his strength.

His heart tightened, gazing at the woman collapsed beside him like a rag doll. He swept his hand over her flushed cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

Her eyes were bright with happiness, giving him an unwelcome twinge. “Do I look hurt?”

His gaze slid over her red swollen lips, her flushed cheeks, her adorably messed hair, and her ivory breasts rosy from his kisses. No, she didn't look hurt, she looked very thoroughly ravished.

And sensual as hell.

If he hadn't just had the most amazing orgasm of his life wring him dry, he would be tempted to take her again— just so he could see if it had been real.

“You look beautiful,”

he said honestly.

He saw the pleasure she took from his compliment, as if it were a rare treat, and vowed to tell her often so that she would never forget it. Her smile, bereft of its usual uncertainty, deepened to pure radiance. It hit him square in the chest. She should look like this always. Happy without restraint. Secure.

She lay in his arms for a moment, the curve of her body nestled intimately against his. Her cheek and the palm of one soft hand rested on his chest. Absently, her fingers traced the narrow path of dark hair on his stomach. Her hair was spread out like a flaxen veil on his chest, tickling his tanned skin.

So this was contentment. Would that they could stay like this forever.

When the pounding of their hearts had steadied and their breathing returned to normal, she propped up her chin on her hand and ventured a wary glance at him. “Are you disappointed?”

He stilled, not needing to ask what she was talking about. Lizzie hadn't been a virgin. Though part of him had guessed the truth, he admitted a moment of disappointment to have it confirmed. He was a man, after all, it was only natural. She was his woman, and he wished that he'd been the first. Irrational, unfair … definitely. But also honest.

That initial flare of disappointment, however, had fled when he thought of the hurt she must have suffered. He suspected the identity of the man she'd given herself to, and it shed an entirely new light on the events he'd witnessed— and played an unknowing role in—that day. His body clenched. How could the bastard make love to her and then treat her that way?

He'd taken too long to respond, and she misinterpreted his reaction. “I can understand if you wish to reconsider …”

Her voice fell off unsteadily.

“Nay!”

His reaction was swift and forceful; the swell of fierce emotion made him tighten his hold around her. “There is nothing to reconsider.”

The loss of her maidenhead to him was nothing to what it must have cost her. If anything, it eased his own sense of guilt about taking her.

Holding her in his arms like this, just the two of them, he found it easy to forget the complications that awaited them beyond. Life married to a MacGregor would be nothing like what she knew. He had nothing to give her. But he would do everything he could to make her happy.

He ached to taste every delectable inch of her body, cover her creamy soft skin with his hands, and make sure she never regretted the decision to marry him.

But it was a battle he was doomed to lose.

How else would she react when she discovered the truth? He'd deceived her. And that deception, though necessary, had never weighed more heavily on him.

She tilted her head, her eyes scanning his face. “You truly aren't angry?”

He cupped her tiny chin. “Not with you.”

But he wanted to kill John Montgomery. If the man wasn't already living his penance, he would do just that.

She read him better than he realized and eyed him warily. “Do you want to know?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nay.”

It was in the past. “Then I would have to kill him.”

Her eyes widened, his blunt statement surprising her. “You would do that for me?”

The woman was daft. “I will kill anyone who harms you.”

He cocked a brow. “I hope that doesn't offend your delicate sensibilities?”

“No,”

she said hesitantly. “Though I'm not used to having such a fierce protector.”

He kissed her forehead. “Get used to it.”

He paused. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I never meant to hide it from you. I always intended to tell the man I married. But when I imagined an engagement, I thought of a nice quiet discussion in a hall, not … this.”

He chuckled, and she blushed. “There wasn't much time for discussion.”

“No, there certainly wasn't,”

he said wryly. “Though had you told me ahead of time, it would have saved me a significant amount of pain and suffering.”

She giggled and then said with mock seriousness, “Your control does you honor, my laird.”

“Witch.”

He slapped her playfully on her bottom. He had no control with her. Heaven help him when she figured it out. “You'll pay for your insolence.”

The wicked gleam in her eye stirred his cock from its sated stupor. “I'm looking forward to it.”

She leaned up and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

“I aim to please, my lady.”

She whacked him playfully. “Not for that, you arrogant beast. For being so understanding.”

“That's the first time I've ever been accused of that.”

She looked at him with those crystal-clear blue eyes that never failed to unnerve him. She saw so much more than he wanted her to. “You don't fool me one bit, Patrick Murray. You aren't nearly as cynical and impervious as you pretend.”

She tapped his chest emphatically. “Beneath that steely chest is a tender heart, and I intend to find it.”

The playfulness fled, a sudden pall cast over the moment of joy. “Don't, Lizzie,”

he warned, his expression as serious as his tone. “Don't try to find something that doesn't exist. You'll only be disappointed.”

She shook her head. “I love you. You could never disappoint me.”

But he would.

I love you. The words he'd been trying to forget but that seemed to be imprinted on his soul. A ray of light in a pit of blackness. Hope for a man who should know better.

His chest felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise of foreboding. He hugged her tight, savoring the moment of connection. The thought of losing her tore him apart.

He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Come. We need to get you back to the hall before someone comes looking for you.”

“When they hear the news, perhaps they will understand.”

Excitement lit her eyes, making her look just like a bairn with a platter of sweets. “I can hardly wait to tell my brothers and cousin.”

Which would be a disaster. Jamie Campbell and Argyll would recognize him. Marriage was only the first hurdle; he still needed to convince her to run away with him— without giving her cause to suspect the true reason.

He hated to put a damper on her excitement, but it was important that her brothers and cousin not learn of their marriage until it was too late to be undone. His voice, though grave, gave no hint of his unease. “Are you sure that is wise?”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You know as well as I do that your brothers and cousin will not be pleased with your choice of husband. They want you to marry Robert Campbell, not a guardsman with little but his sword to recommend him. I don't want to give them an opportunity to refuse their consent.”

She eyed him warily. “What are you suggesting?”

He held her gaze. “That we find a minister to marry us before we tell your family.”

All of the excitement drained from her face. “You mean a clandestine marriage?”

He nodded. “Aye.”

“No,”

she said firmly. “I'll not sneak off as if I'm ashamed of this marriage. I'll be proud to be your wife. My cousin will perhaps be disappointed, but with my brother's marriage—”

“What?”

She smiled. “I was just as surprised as you. It's the most amazing thing. I received a missive from Dunoon before the evening meal. It seems Jamie is to marry Caitrina Lam-ont.”

The Enforcer and the daughter of the Lamont of Ascog— a MacGregor ally? There had to be a mistake. “You're sure the woman is Caitrina Lamont?”

She nodded. “Do you know her?”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Aye.”

“I hear she is very beautiful.”

Patrick looked at her sharply, having heard the odd note in her voice. He studied her expression. She was doing her best to seem uninterested, but he could feel her hanging on every nuance of his response. He grinned. Lizzie was jealous. “She's not my type.”

“What type is that, beautiful?”

He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her pursed lips. “Nay, spoiled and sharp-tongued. If this is true, your brother will have his hands full with that one.”

If he didn't despise the man, he would almost pity him.

She smiled but looked a bit shamefaced. “I should feel sorry for the poor girl. I'm sure she's not had an easy time of it these past few months.”

At his questioning look, she continued. “Apparently, the news my brother received all those weeks ago that drove him from here so quickly had to do with Caitrina Lamont. I don't have all the details, but from what I've been able to piece together from Jamie's missive and Colin and Robert's conversation tonight, the Lamont of Ascog and his sons were killed trying to protect the MacGregors.”

Patrick's blood turned to ice. He grabbed her arm. “Killed?”

Weeks … months ago? What the hell had happened to his kinsmen? “Are you sure?”

he said intently. Too intently. She looked down at her arm, and he realized his fingers were pressing into her tender skin. “Sorry,” he said, releasing his hold and trying to calm the race of his heartbeat.

“I'm sure. I didn't realize you knew him.”

“Not well,”

he admitted. It was the implication for Alas-dair and his brother Iain that worried him. Where the hell were they? Had they been taken? Was that why Gregor had yet to return? He should have come back by now. A heavy pit of dread lodged in his chest. “How did it happen?”

Lizzie shook her head. “I'm not certain. But from comments Colin made tonight and something Jamie said before he left, I think Colin had something to do with it. But don't you see what this means? If my cousin has no objection to Jamie marrying a destitute girl tainted by treason, he is not likely to object to my marrying you.”

“Did your cousin have another bride in mind for your brother?”

“No, but—”

“Then the situations are not the same. I won't risk losing you.”

“You won't lose me.”

“You can be completely certain of that?”

She bit her lip. “Almost certain.”

“Almost isn't good enough.”

“But my cousin has sent for me—I cannot ignore his summons.”

“No, but you can delay.”

“I don't know …,”

she hedged.

He took her into his arms and gave her a long kiss. She'd rearranged her gown to cover herself again, but his fingers caressed her breast through the thin fabric. When he finally broke off, her eyes were soft with passion again. His finger slid over her swollen mouth. “It will be romantic,”

he said huskily.

A wry smile played upon her lips. “It will be illicit. You'll not persuade me so easily. But I will agree to consider it.”

That was good enough for now, but he would persuade her. “And you will say nothing to your brother and Campbell?”

She nodded. “It won't be too difficult, since they are leaving in the morning anyway. Now that Alasdair Mac-Gregor has surrendered, Colin hopes it will be easier to round up the other outlaws.”

“What!”

he exploded, unable to hide his shock. Surrendered? Impossible. She was looking at him strangely, and he realized he'd betrayed too much.

Her brows knit together across her tiny nose. “Didn't I mention it?”

Patrick held his impatience in check. “Nay, you didn't. What happened?”

“I don't know all the details, but Jamie found the Mac-Gregor and his men on the Isle of Bute and negotiated their surrender to my cousin. My cousin has agreed to take the MacGregor to England to have his case heard by the king. Jamie's marriage will seal the bargain.”

Patrick rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what this could all mean.

“There will be peace,”

Lizzie said.

Peace. Was such a thing possible? Dared he hope … If this was true, it could change everything. Alasdair had talked his way out of trouble with the king before; could he do it again? It was obviously what his cousin was counting on.

If the MacGregors were pardoned, he would be able to tell Lizzie the truth. He would be able to explain to her what the land meant to his clan and why it had been necessary to hide his identity. It might make it easier for her to forgive him.

“Is everything all right?”

she asked. “Why are you interested in the MacGregors?”

He saw the aversion in her gaze. “You've just surprised me, that's all.”

And had given him much to think on. He glanced down at her upturned face, seeing that she was still studying him with far too much curiosity in those expressive blue eyes.

His body stirred. The heat of their last kiss still lingered on his lips. He knew just the way to distract her.

In one smooth move, he flipped her onto her back and rolled on top of her.

“What are you doing?”

she gasped.

He kissed her and rubbed his throbbing erection between her legs, letting her feel his arousal. “I thought that would be obvious to a woman of your perception?”

She giggled to hear her words repeated back to her. “I thought you said we didn't have much time?”

“We don't,”

he agreed, sliding his hand between her legs and groaning. So warm and deliciously wet. He slid one finger inside her, watching as her eyes grew hazy with passion. “But this shouldn't take too long.”