Page 60 of The Laird's Wicked Game
Kylie exhaled sharply. “Rae, I don’t think—”
“Let me finish.”
She clenched her jaw, swallowing down panic and the words that now burned on her tongue. She didn’t want to allow him to continue. They’d made an agreement, and he was ruining everything. Even so, she remained silent as he’d asked.
“It started as a game … a way to make up for everything we’d both missed out on … but it became much more to me,” he said huskily, his gaze never leaving hers. “I’m sick with love for ye, lass … and it’s become unbearable.”
Fear washed over her at these words, cold and prickly. “Then I should go,” she gasped, even as her blood started to roar in her ears. God’s troth, she felt like fleeing right this moment—picking up her skirts and running from Dounarwyse, never to return.
“No.” Rae stepped closer, nudging Storm out of the way with his knee. He then placed his hands upon her shoulders.
Kylie’s breathing hitched. It was the first time they’d touched since their last night together. The heat of his palms through her clothing, and the gentleness and strength of his fingers, made it difficult to concentrate. But she had to.
“I don’t want ye to go,” he said, his voice urgent now. “I want ye to stay … to be my wife. We are right together. Wefit. Like a lock and key. Let me love ye, Kylie. Please.”
She stared back at him, even as fear hammered against her ribs. “But ye told me ye never wanted to wed again?” She couldn’t help but let an accusing edge creep into her voice, for in truth, she felt betrayed.
He swallowed. “I did. But that was before I spent time withye.” His gaze searched her face. “Donalda and I were never right for each other … but ye and I are.”
“Ye don’t know that,” she burst out. “We spent a few months enjoying each other’s bodies … that doesn’t mean we’d be happy together.”
“That’s just an excuse, and ye know it,” he shot back, his grip on her shoulders tensing a little. “We did far more than lie with each other. We talked. We learned of each other’s pasts. We got to know each other. We grew totrusteach other.”
Shaking her head, she gently extracted herself from his grasp and stepped back, creating much-needed space between them.
A nerve ticked in Rae’s cheek. “Ye are afraid,” he said roughly. “And ye believe clenching yer heart like a fist will keep ye safe from harm … but it won’t. All it will do is drain the joy from yer life. A clenched fist can hold nothing.”
Her chest started to ache. “I’ve made my choice, Rae … please accept it.”
“So, ye don’t love me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“No.” Dizziness assailed her then, but she held fast.
He flinched at that. She’d wounded him, and the knowledge made her feel sick. But the fear was greater.
He moved back farther from her, and cold air rushed in between them. Storm tried to push his master back toward her, but Rae ignored the collie. “Ye want to leave then?” His voice was flat and his expression had veiled now, as he too shored up his defenses.
Kylie swallowed hard to loosen her painfully tight throat. Curse it, she’d entered the solar fearing that he’d send her away. But now he’d made it her decision. She didn’t want to leave Dounarwyse and the life she’d made for herself, yet after this conversation, she couldn’t remain here. “Aye,” she replied roughly. “As soon as possible.”
23: THE MOMENT TO STRIKE
Castle Coeffin, Isle of Lismore
Two days later …
“THE RAIN is slackening,” Tormod announced as he strode up the gangplank. “We need to make for Mull.”
Straightening up from where he’d been coiling a heavy oiled rope, the captain ofThe Night Plundererscowled. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”
“Aye, but since it’s been pissing down for over three days now, Rae Maclean will have opened the storm drain in the east wall. It’s time.”
Captain Macbeth’s scowl became a glower, yet Tormod pretended not to notice. He was a belligerent bastard. His crew minded him, and until now, Tormod had pretended to do so as well.
However, he wasn’t missing out on this opportunity.
Leaden clouds hung over the Isle of Lismore this morning, so low that they obscured the top of Castle Coeffin’s tower house. But as Tormod had noted, the rain wasn’t as heavy as it had been for the past days. It had lessened from a steady drumming downpour to a thick mist.
They had to go.