Page 34 of The Laird’s Vengeful Desire (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #2)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“ C areful there!”

Ian’s voice was sharp as the red deer bounded across their path, causing both horses to shy nervously. He steadied Dubh with practiced ease, but when he glanced over at Rhona, he could see her expression had changed completely.

The deer had disappeared into the forest, but Rhona sat frozen in her saddle, staring after it with a look that made Ian’s chest tighten.

Whatever she was seeing in her mind, whatever memory the animal had triggered, her face had gone pale, her eyes distant, and when she finally spoke, her voice carried a bitter edge that hadn’t been there moments before.

“Well,” she said, the sudden coldness in her tone taking him by surprise. “I suppose that settles it then. Even the wildlife kens I dinnae belong here.”

With that, she nudged her horse and, in total silence, she directed it towards the castle. He followed as they slowly approached the gates, where the stable boys helped them dismount and took the animals. Ian’s mind was still reeling, and he was at a total loss of what to say.

What the hell just happened?

“Rhona, what–”

“How convenient fer ye,” she continued with a brightness that set his teeth on edge, “that ye think I can be so easily placated by an offer of partnership and respect.”

The sarcasm hit him like a slap to the face. Ian felt his jaw tighten as he watched the walls slam back into place behind her eyes, all the warmth and consideration from their ride evaporating like morning mist.

“Say it, Rhona. What exactly is it ye think I should be offerin’?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly struggling for words, the silence charged with tension and unspoken desires.

“I dinnae… ‘tis nae…” She turned away, pressing her hands to her temples. “Ian, ye dinnae understand. Marriage means somethin’ different tae me than it daes tae ye.”

“Then enlighten me.” His voice was rougher than he’d intended, frustration bleeding through his careful control.

“Because from where I stand, I’m offerin’ ye partnership, respect, a chance to save both our clans – and maybe tae build something meaningful from all of it. What more could ye possibly want?”

Rhona spun back to face him, her eyes blazing. “Love! I want love!”

The statement hung in the air between them like a gauntlet thrown down in battle. Ian felt his heart stutter at the raw honesty in her voice.

There it is. The truth she’s been hidin’ from.

“Rhona…” he started, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“Nae, let me finish.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Ye’re a good man, Ian Wallace. Better than I gave ye credit fer at first. But good isnae the same as… as what I need.”

Ian felt something cold settle in her chest.

“And what is it that ye need?”

“Someone who makes me heart race by just lookin’ at me. Someone who understands me without needin’ me tae say the words. Someone who…” she gestured helplessly. “Someone who truly suits me.”

The words hit their mark, but what was worse was the way she said them – with such certainty, as if she’d already tried and found him wanting.

After everything they’d shared, after everything that had happened, she saw him as… what? A convenient protector? Someone adding to her problems instead of being a solution?

“I see,” Ian said quietly, his voice carefully controlled. “And this mythical man – tell me, where exactly dae ye plan tae find him? Dae ye really want a man who’ll never challenge ye, never ask ye tae grow beyond what’s comfortable?”

The question had clearly struck a nerve. Rhona’s cheeks flushed furiously, but whether from anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell.

“That’s nae fair–”

Ian stepped closer, his green eyes intense. “Ye speak of passion like it’s somethin’ separate from respect, as if a man cannae have both fire and honor. But the truth of it, is that ye’re afraid of what ye might feel if ye let yerself truly see me.”

Rhona opened her mouth to protest, but Ian cut her off before she could speak. “I’m dyin’ tae hear what exactly ye think suits ye, lass?” he said slowly, his voice dangerously quiet.

Rhona’s chin lifted with that same familiar stubborn tilt. “Someone passionate. Someone who fights fer what he believes in with fire in his belly, nae cold calculation.”

“Cold calculation?” Ian’s temper finally snapped. “Is that what ye truly think of me?”

“Ye’re measured. Controlled. Ye think through every decision like a chess master plannin’ his next move.” She wrapped her arms around herself defensively. “There’s naethin’ wrong with that, but it’s nae what sets me heart aflame.”

Ian stared at her, disbelief warring with growing anger.

This woman sets me blood on fire, I burn fer her, yet she claims I’m too cold tae stir her heart.

“ So the man who threw himself intae battle today tae save ye is too controlled? The same man who’s willin’ tae risk his entire clan fer yer happiness is cold?”

“That’s different–”

“How?” He stepped closer, close enough to see the rapid pulse fluttering at her throat. “How is it different?”

“Because… because…” she stammered, clearly flustered by his proximity.

“Because what, Rhona?” Ian’s voice dropped to a rough whisper. “Because ye’re afraid tae admit tae yerself that maybe yer’re grabbin’ at straws?”

Her eyes flashed with renewed fire. “How dare ye–”

“How dare I what? Point out that ye’re lookin’ fer excuses tae reject somethin’ that scares ye?” Ian was close enough now to see the tiny grey flecks in her blue eyes, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. “Tell me, lass, when yer heart goes racin’… what daes it feel like?”

“I… what?”

“When ye’re with this mythical, perfect, passionate man of yers, how daes it feel?” his voice was rough velvet, challenging and intimate all at once. “Daes it make ye feel like there’s brimstone in yer veins? Daes it make ye forget how tae breathe?”

“I…” Rhona’s voice was breathless now, and Ian could see the moment she realized her body was betraying all her careful arguments.

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Ian found himself staring at them as blood pooled low in his abdomen.

He could see her pulse hammering harder at the base of her throat, could feel the electricity crackling between the two of them.

She feels it too. She wants me too. She’s just too damned stubborn tae admit it.

“Because if that’s what ye’re lookin’ fer,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers, “then maybe ye dinnae ken me as well as ye think ye dae.”

“Ian…” her voice was barely above a whisper, but he caught the way her eyes had gone wide and uncertain.

“Aye?” He reached up slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away. Then, he grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers. The contact sent a visible shiver through her, and Ian felt his own control hanging by the finest of threads.

Bloody hell, she’s beautiful.

She was looking at him like she’d never seen him before, like she suddenly realized he was more than just an enemy who had become an unlikely protector.

“Look at me, Rhona,” he commanded softly.

When her eyes met his, he saw the truth there – desire warring with fear, want battling with duty.

“Tell me ye feel naethin’ when I touch ye.

Tell me yer heart daesnae race when I’m near.

If ye can dae that – if ye can look me in the eye and lie tae me face – then I’ll walk away right now. ”

“This is…” she started, but her voice trailed off as his thumb traced across her cheekbone.

“This is what, mo ghràdh ?” The endearment slipped out before he could stop it, and though he didn’t think it possible, her eyes grew even wider.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of,” she whispered.

Before Ian could ask what she meant, something snapped inside him. All his careful control, all his measured constraint – it crumbled like castle walls under siege.

He swept her into his strong arms with the same decisive force he’d shown on the battlefield. One hand tangled in her fiery hair while the other pressed against the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.

“Ian, what are ye–”

He silenced her with his lips, claiming her mouth in a kiss that was pure fire and demand.

This wasn’t the gentle touch of a cautious suitor – it was the passionate assault of a man who’d reached the end of his restraint.

His lips moved against hers with desperate hunger, months of wanting and fighting and denying himself poured into the contact.

This. This is what I’ve been waitin’ fer without even kennin’ it.

Rhona melted against him as his tongue tested the softness of her lips.

She let out a soft gasp that threatened to undo him entirely.

Her hands fisted in his shirt as she kissed him back with equal fervor, all her protests forgotten in the heat that blazed between them.

She tasted like honey wrapped in defiance, like everything he’d ever wanted and couldn’t have.

He felt as if his entire world were tilting on its axis.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard. Rhona’s lips were swollen, her eyes still wide, but this time with shock and something that looked dangerously close to desire.

“Still think I’m too controlled?” he asked roughly, his voice barely recognizable.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Ian’s forehead rested against hers, their breath mingling in the small space between them. he could feel her trembling – but whether from the kiss, or from the realization of what it meant, he wasn’t sure.

“Rhona,” he whispered, her name a prayer upon his lips. “Tell me ye felt that. Tell me I’m nae losin’ me mind.”

But even as he spoke, he could feel her retreating emotionally, could see the walls slamming back into place behind her eyes. The woman who’d melted in his arms just mere moments ago was disappearing, replaced by the guarded prisoner who trusted nothing and no one.

Nae. Dinnae run from this. Dinnae run from me.

“Nay,” she breathed. “This cannae be happenin’…”

“Rhona–”

But she was already backing away, her hands pressed to her lips as if she could somehow take back what had just happened.

“I have tae go,” she said quickly, her voice higher than usual. “I need tae… I cannae…”

“Wait.” Ian reached for her, put she pulled away.

“Nae!” She spun back to face him, her eyes wild. “Dinnae ye see? This is exactly why I cannae marry ye!”

“Because of a kiss?” Ian felt completely lost. “I thought this is what ye wanted, Rhona. Ye’re nae makin’ any sense–”

“Because when ye touch me, I forget everythin’ else!” The words burst out of her like a confession torn from her soul. “Because when ye look at me like that, I dinnae care about clan loyalty or political consequences or any of the things I should be carin’ about!”

Ian stared at her, understanding beginning to dawn.

She’s afraid. Nae of me, but of what I make her feel.

“Rhona, I–”

“I was supposed tae hate ye!” she continued, “Ye’re me enemy. Ye’ve kept me prisoner fer months. And instead of fightin’ that, I’m standin’ here wishin’ ye would kiss me again!”

Ian took a step closer, his heart pounding with hope and tenderness and something that sent a titillating shiver towards his abdomen. “Would that truly be such a terrible thing, lass?”

“Och, aye!” The words came out as a desperate sob. “Because if I let meself care about ye – really care – then what happens when all this falls apart? What happens when yer Council decides that I’m more trouble than I’m worth, or when me faither comes fer me with an army at his back?”

“Then we’ll face it taegether–”

“Taegether?” she laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Ian, ye dinnae understand. If I marry ye, I’m betrayin’ everything I was raised tae believe. And if I dinnae… if I dinnae, then I’m betrayin’ me own heart.”

She turned and fled toward the castle before Ian could respond, leaving him standing there alone in the courtyard with the taste of her on his lips and the echo of her words ringing in his ears.

The evening wind carried the scent of her back toward him, a cruel reminder of just how perfectly she had fit into his arms just moments before.

If I dinnae, then I’m betrayin’ me own heart.

Ian stared after her retreating figure, his mind reeling from everything that had transpired that day. The kiss itself had altered something fundamental between them – had stripped away all pretense and left them both raw and exposed.

How on earth could something so right feel so impossible?

The ever logical part of him understood her fears and concerns, even respected them.

But the man in him – the part that had gotten a fleeting taste of her surrender, felt her melt against him like she belonged there, like she wanted to be there – that part wanted to chase after her, to pin her against the cold, hard castle wall, and kiss away any doubt until she admitted the truth they both knew.

Och, but it was perfect. And now I ken the truth.

She cared for him. Despite the circumstances of their meeting, the political impossibility of their situation and the tangible threats that surrounded them – she cared for him.

But she was terrified of it. Ian couldn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes, he might feel exactly the same way. The real question was: what was he going to do about it?

As he watched her disappear through the castle doors, Ian realized that his carefully planned marriage proposal had just become something far more complicated and precarious than he’d ever imagined.

She had kissed him back like she meant it. And in doing so, she’d revealed the one truth that changed everything. Now he just had to figure out how to convince her that love was worth fighting for – even if it meant fighting against everything they’d been taught to believe.