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19: A GALLANT OFFER

DAVINA’S brEATHING QUICKENED, and she was suddenly acutely aware of their nakedness, of how her breasts pressed up against his ribs, and the way her leg curled around his calf.

“No,” she admitted after a moment.

“But we might come to regret it later.”

“We don’t have to go any further, ye know?”

Davina’s pulse accelerated, disappointment twisting in her breast. Truth was, she still ached for Lennox and hadn’t yet had her fill of him.

This evening had just begun; she didn’t want it to end so soon.

But he was opening the door for her, letting her choose whether to depart.

His expression was veiled now, his body still as he waited for her response.

“I know,” she replied finally.

Her hand slid across his chest, across the hard nubs of his nipples.

“But perhaps yer father is right … about regrets. Being here with ye doesn’t feel wrong.” She halted, her gaze holding his.

“I’m three and twenty, and already I have far too many regrets behind me.” Davina paused once more, considering her words, before continuing.

“But this won’t be one of them. I promise ye that.”

“Yet if we continue, ye may end up carrying my bairn,” he said then, his voice roughening.

“I don’t like to have to point this out, lass … for I’m nearly crawling out of my skin for wanting ye … yet I feel I must.”

Davina’s mouth quirked.

“And ye tell me ye aren’t honorable.” She sighed then.

“My courses ended just two days ago … and the healer from the village near Kilchurn once told me that the days just before a woman’s moon bleed, during, and just after are relatively safe. If we lie together tonight, it’s likely my womb won’t quicken.”

His eyes widened.

“A healer told ye that?”

“Aye.”

He snorted.

“Sounds like witchcraft to me.”

Davina laughed.

“No, it’s just knowledge.” She didn’t add that the same healer had told her how to make a draft of herbs, of which the main ingredient was pennyroyal.

If a woman took them early enough in her pregnancy, her courses would arrive.

She’d made the drink after the first time she and Blair had coupled and could make it again, if necessary.

But it wasn’t something she wished to share with Mackay.

Men tended to take a dim view of such things.

“I understand the risks we’re taking,” she continued, holding his eye.

“And if I were a more sensible woman, I’d get up and leave.” Her lips curved into a rueful smile then.

“Yet I’ve never been sensible … so why start now?”

He laughed, the warm sound rumbling through his chest. And the way he was looking at her, the limpid depths of his eyes, made her stomach do a wild dance.

Aye, he wanted her, and she wanted him—and they’d finish what they started.

Her hand strayed lower, traveling across his belly, and then her breathing hitched when the silky head of his shaft nudged her fingers.

She glanced down then to where his magnificent erection strained toward her.

Davina’s breathing hitched, and she was reaching for it when he caught hold of her wrist. “Not this time, lass,” he said, his voice breathless now.

“This time, I want ye riding my rod, with those pretty tits bouncing in my face.”

Dizziness barreled into Davina.

Mother Mary, the man had a mouth on him.

And the Virgin forgive her, she was no better than him; she loved every filthy thing he said.

Wordlessly, she pushed herself up and straddled him.

Placing the head of his shaft at her entrance, she slowly sank down on him.

And as she did so, her gaze never left his.

Mackay’s lips parted while she slid down his engorged length.

She took him in to the hilt, settling against him so their bodies were flush.

And then she rolled her hips.

The sensation was so delicious that Davina let out a low, needy groan.

Mackay moaned her name and gripped her hips.

She then began to rock, sliding up and down his shaft in smooth, slow movements.

It didn’t take long before excitement quickened in her loins.

Sweat beaded over her body.

Wildness ignited. And suddenly, she forgot herself.

Indeed, she did ride Mackay—hard—writhing and moaning each time she impaled herself on him.

She was vaguely aware of her lover’s groans joining hers.

His fingers tightened on her hips, slamming her down on him now.

She watched his face—the flush upon his high cheekbones and the way his eyes glittered with lust.

The intensity of their gazes meeting was too much.

Pleasure twisted deep in her womb, rippling out in powerful, aching pulses—and Davina shattered.

Arching, she threw her head back, her raw cry blending with the shrill wail of the Highland pipe that serenaded them.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Lennox hadn’t meant to drift off.

However, the torpor that rolled over him after his release was so powerful that he couldn’t resist it.

He fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.

He was usually a light and fitful sleeper, yet tonight he didn’t wake in the early hours of the morning as was his habit—staring up at the rafters and wishing it were dawn already.

On this occasion, he awoke to the morning light caressing his face, streaming in through the open window.

Outside, a rooster was crowing.

Stretching languorously, he became aware that he wasn’t alone in the bed.

Soft hair that smelled of lavender tickled his nose, and he glanced down to find a slender figure curled against him.

Davina’s face was snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder, and her breathing was slow and deep.

She was still asleep, so Lennox took the opportunity to observe her.

She was lovely, her pale skin gleaming like polished marble in the morning light, her silky hair cascading over his chest, as black as raven feathers.

She had long, coltish limbs and delicate bones.

Aye, she was thin, yet there was nothing fragile about her.

He’d never lain with a woman like Davina.

She’d shattered all his preconceived notions about what he wanted in a lover, what attracted him.

Davina Campbell had given him a night quite unlike any other.

She was insatiable—although so was he.

They’d coupled twice more, their bodies slick with sweat, the rasp of their labored breathing filling the bedchamber.

He’d taken her first on her hands and knees, thrusting into her from behind, and then on her back, those long legs hooked over his shoulders.

And Davina had met him, thrust for thrust, while she whispered words of encouragement and pleas for him to take her harder, deeper.

Lennox’s breathing grew shallow at the memory, his pulse jumping in the hollow of his throat.

It had been unforgettable.

But now, daylight filtered in through the window, and the sounds of industry—the clip-clop of horses’ hooves on the road and the rumble of men’s voices—drifted in, reminding him that the moments he wanted to keep ahold of always passed too quickly.

Reaching across, he gently brushed Davina’s hair aside so he could see her face.

Her dark lashes lay against her pale cheeks.

In sleep, she looked angelic.

It was her eyes that betrayed her.

They were filled with keen intelligence and a fire that made it difficult for him to look away whenever their gazes locked.

He stroked her smooth cheek, and Davina stirred, her eyelashes fluttering as her eyes opened.

“It’s well after dawn, lass,” he murmured.

“I suppose we shouldn’t lie abed.”

She yawned, stretching that lissome body against him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well,” she admitted huskily.

“Nor I.”

Their gazes met, and Lennox’s belly tightened.

The devil take him, he didn’t want to leave this chamber for another two days.

Instead, he wanted to remain in bed with Davina and swive her until they both collapsed from exhaustion.

“I enjoyed last night, Lennox,” she whispered then, a pretty blush rising to her cheeks.

His lips curved. He liked the soft and sensual way she said his christian name.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he replied.

But even as he answered, tension curled under his ribcage.

Although they hadn’t said as much, they both knew their night together couldn’t be repeated.

They were alone here, away from the prying eyes of kin.

But they couldn’t be creeping into each other’s beds at Dun Ugadale.

His brother would frown upon such behavior.

Lennox cleared his throat.

“I would like to make sure ye are safe in the future, Davina, cared for.”

She rolled over, propping herself up on an elbow as she regarded him.

“Aye, and from what ye have told me, Dun Ugadale will provide that haven.”

Lennox drew in a deep breath, even as his stomach clenched.

Cods, he was never nervous around women.

But with Davina, it was different.

She got under his skin.

She made him consider things he’d previously ignored.

The idea that one day he might take a wife.

“My brother’s broch will provide a haven, aye,” he continued, wishing his voice was more insouciant.

“But ye will still be a woman alone.” He paused then as his pulse tripled.

“If I was to take ye as my wife, ye would be under my protection.”

Her grey-blue eyes snapped wide, her expression stilling.

Her reaction unsettled him.

“I would treat ye well,” he assured her quickly.

“And although I’m no longer my brother’s bailiff, I shall find another role soon enough. Ye would be well looked after.”

Davina stared back at him before, eventually, her mouth tugged into a wry smile.

“Och, Lennox. Ye have already helped me too much … I can’t ask anything else of ye. Yer offer is gallant, yet I will not ask ye to shackle yerself to me.”

His already fast pulse started to hammer.

“I wouldn’t be shackled to ye, I—”

“Hush.” Her hand rose, her warm fingers pressing against his lips.

“I made a vow I would never wed, and I intend to keep it.”

He stiffened, and she removed her hand.

“But that was when ye intended to become a nun. Things are different now.”

Her expression grew serious, and she swallowed, her slender throat bobbing.

“Aye … but my feelings haven’t changed.”

He frowned.

He didn’t understand—she’d already admitted to him she wasn’t pious.

“Why?”

Her gaze never wavered.

“I’m trouble, Lennox … even my own father washed his hands of me. I don’t think I’m meant to be a wife. There are plenty of ways for me to live a fulfilled life. I intend to make myself indispensable at Dun Ugadale … to be a burden to no one. It’s the least I can do.”

“But don’t ye want bairns … a husband to grow old with?” Even as Lennox said these words, a queasy sensation rippled through him.

He was pushing things, yet he couldn’t help it.

He didn’t understand why she was being so obstinate.

Her face tensed, her eyes hardening slightly.

“I did once … before life taught me some harsh lessons. I’m sorry, Lennox, but I can’t marry ye.”

Their gazes held, and Lennox suppressed a wince.

Her refusal stung, yet he’d accept it.

“Very well,” he said, eventually breaking the awkward silence between them.

“Ye are right … it’s a foolish idea indeed. Forget I said anything.”