9: TEMPTATION

DAVINA’S brEATHING WAS coming in short, shallow pants as she moved into her bedchamber.

She intended to slam the door in Lennox Mackay’s face, but he was too quick.

In an instant, the man was inside the room with her, the door thudding shut behind him—sealing them inside together.

“Knave!” she gasped.

“Get out!”

“I’ll leave when I’m ready,” he replied, biting out each word.

The captain’s handsome face was all taut angles now, his dark-blue eyes almost black.

“But not before ye admit that ye should have asked me before inviting Brogan Douglas to reside under the same roof as us.”

Davina’s heart started kicking like a wild pony against her ribs.

“I don’t answer to ye, Mackay,” she spat, even as she edged away from him.

They were both vexed, yet his closeness had an unnerving effect on her.

Through the crimson haze of her anger, she was aware of the heat and strength of his body.

The smell of pine and leather had filled her nostrils moments earlier when he’d reached forward to open the door—and she’d found herself dragging it deep into her lungs.

Being alone with this man was a bad idea.

Eredine had shown her that.

But here he was, stalking toward her as she shuffled backward.

And when the back of Davina’s thighs hit the edge of the bed, dizziness swept over her.

She was cornered again, and Mackay was looming over.

“Aye, ye do,” he ground out.

“And I have something to say about ye consorting with an outlaw.”

“ Consorting ?” she snorted, her gaze narrowing.

“God’s blood, Mackay … if I didn’t know better, I’d think ye were jealous.”

His mouth twisted at the suggestion.

Davina held his eye, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

“Ye don’t like it when Brogan Douglas speaks to me, do ye? And ye hate his flattery. What’s wrong? Does he show ye up?”

Mackay snarled a curse in response.

And then, before she knew what was happening, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her.

His mouth on hers was hard and hot.

Gasping, Davina wrenched away, her hand swiping upward.

The ‘crack’ of her palm colliding with his cheek echoed through the chamber.

He jerked back, his gaze glittering, and like two opponents in the heat of battle, they stared each other down.

Like her, he was breathing hard now, his chest rising and falling sharply.

Davina should have squeezed past him then, should have made for the door—but instead, she did the opposite.

She reached forward, grabbed him by the collar of his gambeson with both hands, and yanked him close once more, going up on tiptoe to return the kiss.

Mackay stiffened in surprise.

However, he recovered swiftly—and an instant later, his mouth devoured hers.

Tongues, lips, and teeth clashed, and then he bent her back over his arm, one hand cradling the back of her head as he deepened the kiss further.

What started as a ferocious, angry embrace slid into something shockingly, breathlessly sensual.

Davina was lost. Reaching up, she linked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer still.

He tasted delicious, like fresh ale at the end of a hot summer’s day, and she drank him in.

Her wits scattered, as did her thoughts.

Her world narrowed to this moment.

To the feel of Mackay’s arms around her.

To the heady taste of him.

To the sensual slide of his tongue against hers.

It was as if she were caught up in a whirlpool.

Mackay came to his senses first.

Still holding her fast in his arms, he lifted his mouth from hers and straightened up.

Then, the rasp of their breathing filling the chamber, his gaze found hers.

Staring up at him, Davina fought the urge to wrap her arms around his neck once more, to yank his mouth down to hers.

But as the moments slid by, the madness that had caught her up in its thrall cleared.

Her skin prickled, heat washing over her.

What am I doing? I’m about to become a postulant.

Mackay’s dark-blue eyes glinted as he stared down at her.

His cheeks had flushed, and his lips were swollen from the violence of their kisses.

“Maybe ye are right, Davina,” he said hoarsely.

“Perhaps, I am jealous. But the fact remains that assisting the likes of Brogan Douglas could cause clan Campbell to be dragged into the conflict between the Stewarts and the Douglases.”

“But ye also assisted him,” she reminded him softly, her voice catching.

“Ye saved his life.”

His brow furrowed.

“Aye.” There was no mistaking the regret in his voice.

“But that was before I knew who he was.”

He gently released her then and stepped away.

Cool air rushed in between them, and Davina started to tremble.

She clenched her knees together to stop herself from staggering.

Mackay didn’t seem to notice, for he now was heading for the door.

Reaching it, he glanced over his shoulder.

The captain’s gaze was shuttered, even if his face was still flushed.

“Ye have a stubborn, passionate nature, Davina,” he said, his voice roughening slightly.

“It makes me wonder if ye will be suited to a life of quiet contemplation.”

An instant later, he was gone, and Davina found herself staring at the closed door.

Heart still pounding, she raised a hand to her bee-stung mouth.

She could still taste him, still smell him—and her traitorous body still yearned for him.

However, her sanity had returned, and mortification prickled across her skin like a legion of marching ants.

Her legs did give way under her then, and she sank down onto the bed.

Clenching her hands together, she was tempted to whisper a prayer to God, a plea to deliver her from temptation.

But it was far too late for that.

Leaving Davina’s bedchamber, Lennox strode down the hallway toward the stairs.

The urge to break into a run pulsed through him, although he fought it.

He wouldn’t let himself flee from a woman.

Another part of him, the part that he fought just as hard, wanted to turn around and race back in there, to yank her back into his arms and claim her mouth with his again.

And not stop there either.

When Davina Campbell had kissed him, feral hunger had punched him in the guts.

She met him with a passion that drove him wild.

He hadn’t been able to think straight, and for a few moments, he’d given in to the madness.

But somewhere, deep inside, he’d eventually clawed back his wits.

Davina was his charge, his responsibility.

He captained her father's guard. It was a position of trust, and all of them knew what had happened to the last man who’d breached it.

And the truth was, he wasn’t just angry with her, but with himself.

He had been the one to step in to stop that fight today. If Brogan Douglas had ended up staying in the same inn as them, it was his fault, not Davina’s.

All it had taken was a look from her, and he’d rushed forward to intercede.

Raking a hand through his short hair, he cursed. What’s wrong with ye, man? Since when had he let a woman get to him like this?

Lennox took the rickety stairs down to the common room. And as he did so, his left cheek still tingled from the hard slap she’d delivered. He’d deserved that, had taken advantage of their proximity in the most callous fashion. And even though she’d ended up kissing him back, he knew he couldn’t pretend it had never happened.

He’d overstepped, and he’d been rude to her.

He had to put things right.

The mood was strained at the table. The three of them sat there: Davina, Mackay, and Douglas. The rest of the Campbell party was seated a couple of yards away. It was busy in the common room this eve, filled with hard-drinking fishermen. A group of them were singing raucously near the open doors to the inn.

Davina cast a glance over at where Hamish and the other warriors were eating their suppers and chatting amongst themselves. Hamish caught her eye and favored Davina with a smile and a nod. Yet he ignored his captain.

Turning her attention back to their table, Davina focused on her meal. The supper was good: fried flounder and fresh oaten bread, washed down with cool ale. It was a hot, stuffy evening, and outdoors the sun was setting in a blaze of pink and gold over the sea. As always, Oban was a bonnie spot.

In the past, Davina would have lingered here a day or two, and taken rides up the coast in between exploring the busy market that took place every morning on the quayside. But with her escape from her old life awaiting, and the events of the past days unsettling her, she was relieved they would depart with the dawn.

Taking a bite of the delicate white fish, Davina cast a quick, veiled glance in Mackay’s direction. They’d both avoided each other’s gaze ever since taking a seat in the common room. It was awkward sitting at the same table as him, but to move elsewhere would only draw attention to what had happened upstairs. Embarrassment burned within her whenever she thought about her lewd behavior.

Fortunately, Mackay wasn’t looking her way; he was too busy glaring at Douglas across the table.

Davina also focused on the outlaw. He ate heartily, hunched over his supper as if afraid someone might yank it away. Finishing his meal well ahead of his two companions, Douglas then sat back with a sigh and wrapped his hands around his tankard of ale, before meeting Davina’s eye. “I appreciate yer kindness, my lady,” he rumbled. “Ye have my undying thanks.”

Davina forced herself to smile. Mackay’s brooding presence across the table was making her uncomfortable. In truth, she wished Douglas wouldn’t bring the subject up. He’d pushed her into assisting him anyway, and she couldn’t help but feel manipulated. She didn’t want his thanks. “Tomorrow ye can make a fresh start,” she answered stiffly.

Douglas nodded before he glanced down at his filthy clothing. “I reek like a billy goat,” he said, a rueful edge to his voice now. “I shall bid ye good eve, for a hot bath is awaiting me in my room.”

Mackay grunted, agreeing that the man did, indeed, stink.

“We won’t likely see each other in the morning,” Davina said as Douglas rose to his feet. “And so, I wish ye farewell now.”

“Farewell, Lady Davina,” he replied, bowing his head. “And all the best for yer life at Iona.” He then shifted his attention to Mackay and flashed him a smile. “And farewell to ye , Mackay.”

Davina’s brow furrowed. Was she imagining it or was there a goading edge to his smile?

At the nearby table, the Campbell warriors had ceased their conversation, their gazes traveling to Douglas. The men’s faces were grim as they watched the outlaw.

Seemingly unaffected by the continuing lack of trust toward him, Douglas departed, leaving Davina and Mackay alone together at the table.

Davina took a sip of ale and wondered how long she could wait before making an excuse and retiring as well. Only pride kept her sitting there. She didn’t want Mackay to think she was afraid of him. The truth of it was that shame still pulsed within her like a stoked furnace. And her belly clenched every time she remembered that forbidden embrace.

Her passionate nature was a curse—and when it came to this infuriating man, it was going to get her into trouble.

Mackay cleared his throat then. “Lady Davina,” he began gruffly. “I owe ye an apology.”

Davina’s gaze shifted to him squarely for the first time since supper had begun. Meanwhile, at the next table, the warriors resumed their conversation. Keith had pulled out some knucklebones, and they were beginning a game. Mackay and Davina had a little privacy.

Their gazes met and held, the moment drawing out.

“I lost my temper and behaved callously,” Mackay continued, his voice roughening further. It was clear that he wasn't a man used to apologizing.

“And I ask yer forgiveness.”

Davina sighed.

“The fault wasn’t entirely yers,” she admitted, forcing herself to hold his eye, even as her cheeks warmed.

It would be easy to let Mackay take the blame for that kiss.

But they both knew the truth of it.

“I also let anger get the better of me. I said things I wish I could take back … and I’m sorry too.”