Her face flushed scarlet, and he moved in closer, placing both hands on either side of her waist upon the stone dolmen. He waited, giving her every opportunity to push past him. If she even attempted to escape his embrace, he would not hesitate to let her go.
‘If you were not betrothed to the Norman, would you consider a different marriage?’
Her eyes were wild with fear, but she placed her hands upon his shoulders as if to ward him off. ‘I—I don’t think I—’
He leaned in, brushing his mouth against her temple. Her skin was soft, her red hair turning darker beneath the rain. But he could not deny his interest in her. He found himself wanting to coax this woman into yielding to him.
‘What if you wed a man like me?’ he murmured, his lips against hers. ‘Would that be so terrible?’ With that, he claimed her mouth. He kissed her gently, not wanting to frighten her. At first, her lips didn’t move, so startled was she. But as he learned the shape of her mouth, teasing her, gradually she began to respond.
She twined her arms around his neck, and tentatively moved her mouth against his. He stroked back her hair, encouraging her without words. His wife-to-be did have a more sensual side to her, and when he drew her body against his, she clung to him.
‘I shouldn’t do this,’ she whispered. ‘I am betrothed to another man.’
‘And what if that man were me?’ he asked, sliding his hands down her spine. ‘Would you be so reluctant to wed?’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘But that man isn’t you.’ This time, she did pull back, her cheeks reddening. ‘I can do nothing until the Norman agrees to let me go. And that might not happen.’
She closed her eyes with guilt, and her mind was already forming plans, he could tell. But he wanted more from this woman. He wanted to tempt her into forgetting about the boundaries between them, offering her the chance to have a very different sort of marriage, like the one his grandmother had enjoyed.
Ever since adolescence, Rhys had been stifled by responsibilities. His father had taken full command over Rhys’s life, demanding that he learn every skill necessary for governing Montbrooke. And his stepmother had seized her own control, trying to bend him to her will. He closed off the darker vision, for he would never again be at a woman’s mercy. If he chose to wed Lianna MacKinnon, it would be on his terms.
He wanted to know if she found him desirable, if there was any hope for a true marriage between them. Rhys framed her face with his hands, and her eyes softened. The rain slid over her cheeks, and he kissed the water droplets, claiming her mouth again. This time, he would not allow her to think of anything else, save him. He needed to push away her doubts, and when he revealed the truth to her, she would no longer regret the match.
‘Gavin—’
‘Shh.’ He silenced her and kissed her with more intensity, hoping to drive her towards madness. He pressed his leg between hers, and lifted her hips until she was straddling his thigh. The kiss turned hotter, and when he stroked her tongue with his, he lost sight of his own plans. She emitted a slight moan, shuddering as she rocked against him.
Her innocent reaction caused him to lose control. This woman was his and had been promised to him since birth. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin when he kissed her. Her sensitivity made him reckless, and he could voice only one thought in his brain: Mine.
No longer would he consider giving her to Warrick. She belonged to him, and one day soon, this Scottish beauty would be naked in his bed, and he would enjoy pleasuring her. She shuddered, and he imagined how it would be to bring her to fulfilment.
But abruptly, she shoved him back, her face stricken. ‘I cannot,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her face held shame and guilt, and she hurried past him to her horse.
‘Lianna, wait.’ It was better to admit the truth to her now, to reveal his name and let her know that there was no harm in what they had done.
But she had already mounted her mare. She urged the animal back towards the settlement, without looking at him. The rain had soaked through his borrowed clothing, but he hardly felt the chill at all. His body was raging for Lianna MacKinnon.
And he would stop at nothing to claim his promised bride.
Lianna was on her hands and knees, cleaning a small pile of dirt from the floor when her brother Sían strode into the gathering space. He smiled warmly at her. ‘You needn’t kneel on my behalf, Sister.’
His teasing was meant to make her laugh, but she could not bring herself to do so. Inwardly, she was still shaken by the encounter with Gavin MacAllister. The Highlander had struck her speechless with his handsome face, and God help her, the kiss had made her into a trembling mess. It wasn’t her first, but it was so very different from the dry peck upon her mouth, only given because one boy had dared another. No, Gavin’s kiss had unravelled her senses. She had hardly been able to ride back to their fortress, for her face was burning with startled embarrassment.
Men didn’t pay attention to her. They didn’t even like her. As she rose from the floor, folding the cloth into a rectangle, she didn’t miss the smirk from one of their kinsmen standing nearby.
‘You missed a grain of sand,’ Robbie mocked her. ‘Just there.’
She glanced in the direction he pointed but saw nothing. The arrogant look in his eyes bothered her, and she looked to Sían to say something. But her brother ignored it, pulling out a chair before he sat.
‘What have you seen this day?’ he asked. ‘Did any of the crofters’ homes have cobwebs, or God forbid, a rat?’
Robbie snickered, but she ignored the man. The truth was, she’d forgotten to inspect the homes at all. She ought to confess to her brother the truth, that she had encountered Gavin MacAllister. And yet, a part of her wanted to hold that memory to herself.
Instead, she repeated what she had already told him in the past. ‘Hamish and Maire lost two of their cattle to raiders. Their daughter, Lara, will give birth in the spring. And Orna is growing old and is suffering from aching of her hands and feet. Most of our people lack enough supplies to last through the winter. We need to be prepared.’
A part of her knew she ought to use her precious hoard of coins to buy supplies for her kinsmen, but she hoped that the Norman would take her exchange and give her freedom from the marriage. If he refused, she would use the silver to help her clan.
Sían sighed. ‘Then everything with our clan is the same as always. What would I do without your observations?’ He winked at his men, and Lianna decided to broach the subject she feared the most.
‘Father has told me that the Norman has arrived with his men. He still wants me to marry Rhys de Laurent.’ She gripped her hands together, waiting to hear his response. Sían had the most to lose, for once de Laurent married her, he would take command of the clan.
At that, her brother’s expression turned cold. ‘Is that so?’ There was a cruel air within his voice, and he stood, resting his hand upon the dagger at his waist.
Lianna raised her eyes to his, pleading, ‘Will you speak to Father on my behalf?’ She knew her best hope was to flatter her brother’s ego. ‘You should be the clan chief, not a stranger.’ She steeled herself and said, ‘If you can stop this marriage, I would be so grateful.’
Her brother did appear irritated by the idea of losing command. ‘You are right that I should be the leader of our people. Father is sick, and we must be prepared for the worst.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. Her heart did worry over Alastair, for even during these past summer months, he had struggled to overcome a hacking cough.