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Havilland had calmed by now, at least sufficiently enough to think the situation through. She was seeing it from a far different angle than he was and as much as it broke her heart, she knew she was seeing it clearly. God, it was killing her, but it was the only way.

She had to make him understand.

Gently, she was able to pull from his embrace, facing him in the dim light of the landing.

Her face was still wet with tears and she wiped at her eyes, struggling with everything she had to compose herself.

It was important that she say what she needed to say without breaking down.

For both of their sakes, she had to do it.

“Shall I tell you what will really happen?” she asked softly.

“Because of me, you will fall out of favor with your father as well as your clan. By not marrying the MacLennan girl, you will make an enemy out of that clan as well. And this MacKenzie that you must face…Jamison, if you marry the MacLennan girl, you will not have to face him. Your friends have said so. But if you marry me, you will have to face him. Do you think for one minute I could live with the knowledge that you were forced to do this because of me? Do you think for one minute I could live with the knowledge that I had killed you? I know there is the possibility that you will survive, but there is equal possibility that you will not. I would rather have you alive and married to another than dead and married to me. I do not want to be your widow. Jamison, you must return home and marry this girl and find peace with your clan and the MacKenzies. I love you enough to know that I must let you go. If you loved me enough, you would know that, also. Are you really so eager to die with me as your wife?”

He stared at her, the look on his face something she would never forget. He actually took a step back, an expression of horror and realization beyond anything he’d ever experienced before.

“If ye loved me enough, then ye’d want tae be with me no matter the opposition we would face,” he said softly.

Havilland resisted the urge to touch his face, as if the mere gesture could force the man to understand what she was saying. “I love you enough to know that if you marry me, we would never know peace,” she murmured. “Is that truly how you want our marriage to be?”

“I dunna care so long as we are together.”

He was being stubborn which was weakening her resolve. But she couldn’t give in to it, not now. The tears were threatening again but she had to be strong. She had to get through this.

“And I would rather have you alive,” she said huskily. “You said that you love me.”

“I do.”

She stepped forward, then, putting her hands on his face, forcing him to look at her. “You said you would do anything for me.”

“I will. Ye know I will.”

She forced a smile. “Then go home and marry that girl,” she said.

“I will be all right. I will continue on here at Four Crosses and I will remember you as the only man I will ever love. There will never be anyone else. Only you. But I will not marry you. All of the begging in the world will not convince me to do it. It is my wish that you go home and do what you were born to do. Become the leader for your clan that I know you can be.”

His face darkened. “Havi, dunna….”

“You said you would do anything for me. I am asking you to do this for me.”

Pain swept his features. “Ye canna mean it.”

“I do. With all that I am, I do. Please, Jamison… go. Do this for me.”

His lower lip began to tremble and he stepped back, away from her. “I canna.”

“You promised you would do anything for me. This is what I want.”

He didn’t want to do it. God help him, he didn’t want to do it.

He couldn’t. But she had made her wishes clear.

He could feel his throat tightening up, tears of great sorrow threatening, but before he could speak, she suddenly threw herself forward and kissed him.

It was a powerful kiss, one of great feeling and emotion.

Instinctively, his arms went around her, holding her closer than he’d ever held anything in his life.

He knew that this was his last chance to touch her, to taste her, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

When she tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let her.

He put a hand on the back of her head and held her mouth to his.

He wasn’t going to let this moment end.

Jamison’s lips devoured hers, suckling them, before moving to her cheek and chin.

Havilland had started to weep now, her composure shattering.

She pushed at him now, trying to push him away, trying to separate them, but he wouldn’t allow it.

His mouth was on her neck, her shoulder, and he suddenly turned around, bracing her against the wall so she couldn’t get away from him easily.

Now, he had her trapped and he intended to take advantage of that.

His mouth slanted over hers once more, his tongue invading her sweet orifice, as the hand that was behind her head went to her shoulder and pulled the collar of her dress down.

She was fairly well cinched up with the ties on the back of the garment but he yanked hard, loosening the stays, listening to her gasp with shock and uncertainty.

So many emotions were swirling between them, too many to grasp.

When he bit down on her shoulder, a love bite that saw him sinking his big teeth into her flesh, she cried out softly, wanting more.

Havilland had stopped trying to push Jamison away.

For the moment, she had surrendered. Back against the wall as he overwhelmed her with his size, she simply wept softly as he pulled the collar of her dress down far enough that he exposed the tops of her breasts.

She had such beautiful breasts. He suckled and kissed them, his hands on her neck, her shoulders, finally cupping her breasts as he nibbled on them.

When he gave another good yank and exposed her left nipple, she stiffened.

He could feel her. But the moment his mouth claimed her taut, warm nipple, her body seemed to collapse against him.

Jamison wasn’t thinking any further, at that point, than his need for her– his need to touch her, to taste her, to claim her.

He kept pulling her dress down, exposing both breasts in the process and losing himself in their softness.

He wasn’t feeding his lust as much as he was feeding his soul.

Gorging himself on her flesh fed something in him that went beyond passion.

It was bonding, emotional at the deepest level.

It was expressing his feelings for her more than his words ever could.

And Havilland was letting him express himself in his own way.

Her arms were around his head as he nursed against her breasts, holding him to her, experiencing the intimacy.

It was overwhelming in its power, the beauty of the strength of love as only they could experience it.

Jamison was quite certain that he was going to take the woman, here and now, but the moment he snaked a big hand under her skirt and touched the warm flesh of her thigh, it seemed to frighten her.

It was as if Havilland suddenly realized they shouldn’t be doing this.

Perhaps she didn’t want to do it, knowing she would be branded for life to a man she could never have.

Whatever the reason, she abruptly yanked from his grasped and stumbled away.

Before Jamison could reclaim her, she fled into her chamber, slamming the door and bolting it.

Jamison was left on the landing, struggling to catch his breath, knowing instinctively that the slamming door was symbolic in so many ways.

She was slamming it on him and shutting him out.

He knew, without question, that the door would never open again.

All of the begging in the world wouldn’t change it.

He knew that now, no matter how much he wanted otherwise.

It was finished.

Heartbroken, tears fell from his eyes. He didn’t try to wipe them away. He went to her door but didn’t say a word. He put his hand on it and kissed the wood as if to kiss her one more time. It was a closing kiss, symbolic much as the slamming door had been.

His heart was in that chamber, behind that closed door, never to be reclaimed again.