Highland Destiny (18 page)

Connor was speechless. He'd never before felt this kind of intimacy with another woman. He traced his fingers down her back, they were still joined, not wanting to move yet. But Connor rolled his weight off her and tucked her into his side, while their breathing slowed. He had never wanted to hold a woman all night long, but he felt that with her, he could do just that and enjoy it. Hell, he felt as if he could hold her in his arms forever. He wanted to. He'd known that it would be good with Mackenzie, the explosive passion between them left little doubt, but what they had just shared was amazing. It wasn't just the sex, but he'd felt a wholeness, a completeness, he couldn't quite define. What he had just experienced with Mackenzie made him feel like he'd been missing something with every other woman he'd lain with.

He'd once told her she'd never crave another man's touch, but in reality it was he who would never want another; Connor wanted only her.

It was all so new and fascinating, and frustrating...his life had been so clear before; clan chief, marry suitable girl, have heirs. Simple. And now it was muddled. He was confused. He still trailed his fingers gently up and down her side, from hip to shoulder. She had her hand idly tracing designs on his chest. Her touch was almost pleasure personified. He felt himself harden, and thought that this next time would be even more intense, since he could devote himself strictly to the act.

172

Nothing made sense, though, not her story, not the story from the man sitting in a cell downstairs, and not his own thoughts, which were now envisioning Mackenzie having a place in his home, and dare he think it? His heart.

"Is it always like that?" Her soft query snapped his brows down over his nose.

"Nay, no' always." Never for him. Why would she ask something like that? Unless she was...No. It wasn't possible.

She couldn't be. The way she dressed belied any innocence.

Add that to her behavior, and her connection to the Campbell... He propped himself up on one elbow, so he could more fully see her expression. "Mackenzie, were you a virgin?"

Her eyes dropped from his, but he noticed the flash of hurt in their green depths first. She was quiet for a long time.

"Was I not...good?" Her voice broke on the last word.

He inhaled sharply and said, "Is that what you are thinking about? That I wasn't satisfied?" He didn't mean to sound angry, but it was a ludicrous thought in the face of what he'd just done. He had wanted her as he'd wanted no other, but if he'd known she was a maid, well, he would have tried to dredge up some self-control. He'd thought he was bedding his enemy's wife. And while he had feelings for her that he didn't want to think about, it was still no more than scratching an itch. At least, that's what he'd told himself. And whilst her connection to the Campbell was far from cleared up, however, 173

He saw one tear slip out from her closed eyelid, and slide down her cheek. Catching it with his thumb, he silently castigated himself for not taking more care with her. He had no experience with maidens. He'd recklessly taken his own pleasure; he must have hurt her at some point. "Och, was I too rough with you, lass?"

Her eyes opened wide and met his briefly, before lowering again. "No. No, nothing like that."

She must be lying, but why? Why didn't she say what she was surely thinking? That he was a barbarian for taking her maidenhead like that. She deserved better. His thoughts were suddenly fierce and possessive. She deserved better than the Campbell. He could only imagine how her soft, beautiful body would be treated. Not to mention her spirit. The anger rolled off him in waves. Mackenzie sat up and faced away from him.

He stared at her back. Connor was momentarily distracted by the colorful flowers painted onto her lower back. He'd never seen anything painted onto someone's skin. It was strange and beautiful. He reached out a finger and gently traced the petals. Mackenzie stiffened. Of course. He pulled his hand back; she must hate him so much now that even his touch disgusted her. It was understandable. He hated himself at the moment.

"Are you hurt?"

Mackenzie turned bright eyes to look at him, and had an even brighter smile on her face. "I'm fine." And she stood, pulling her
sark
over her head.

174

Her face crumpled, and she turned quickly to avoid his probing gaze.

"If you are hurt, please tell me." His voice was strained.

Connor stood as well, and turned her back to face him, his hands at her shoulders. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Oh, what a rogue he'd been! He crushed her to him tightly, "Please doona cry."

She mumbled against his chest, "I'm not hurt."

He pulled back slightly so he could look at her. "I doona understand. Why are you crying?"

"I'm not." Her watery denial was pathetic.

"Close enough." His voice was curt now with the anxiety of watching her cry. Christ, he hated a woman's tears.

"It's nothing, really." This soft, tremulous assurance did nothing to help ease his anxiety.

"Tell me, please," his voice was rough with emotion.

"It's just, I mean, I know that it wasn't the same for you, but, it was amazing for me, and I know that I'm not experienced with these things, but..." Mackenzie couldn't finish; she bit her lip and looked at her hands on his chest.

Connor brushed his thumb under her lip until her teeth let go. His heart was beating erratically from this newfound emotion. And as gently as he could, he said, "I am sorry that I hurt you. Please know that I am just as revolted with myself as you must be." His thumb and forefinger gripped her chin and forced her gaze to meet his. "I did no' mean to hurt you."

175

She was so frustrating. Of course he'd hurt her. Why wouldn't she just say what she was thinking? He sighed mentally and asked instead, "Why did you no' tell me you were a maid?"

Mackenzie's eyes dropped and stayed fixed on her hands,

"You wouldn't have believed me."

The softly spoken remark stung. It was true, but it still hurt.

"You're right." It pained him to choke out the words. He had to make her understand. But understand what? He didn't really understand himself what had happened to change his feelings for her so swiftly. Mackenzie didn't know that this had been more for him, but he didn't want to think about that when she was obviously upset about the whole thing. Her wide, guileless eyes finally met his, and they looked concerned. But concerned about what?

"Are you alright?" Her voice showed no hint of anger.

She was concerned about
him?
That was surprising. She never did what he expected. Maybe that was some of the draw to her, that unpredictability? Whether she was who she said, or not, she was unlike any woman he'd ever known. Or maybe the attraction was in knowing that she belonged to another, he really didn't have an answer.

He looked into her concerned eyes, and said, "Nay, lass, I'm no' alright. I'm ashamed to have treated ye such." She had given herself to him so fully, and he'd treated her as if she were just some conquest to warm his bed.

176

"Aye. Aren't you?" She
should
be. He'd behaved odiously towards her.

"No, I..." she broke off and flushed.

"What? Please, tell me what you are thinking."

"I..." she cleared her throat, pasting a bright smile on her face, "I just wanted you to know that I really am fine." She paused before continuing, "And that it was incredible for me."

Connor smiled slightly at her soft admission. He could tell that wasn't what she'd been planning on saying, but he let it go.

He didn't want to see the hurt return to eyes.

"Why dinna you tell me you were a virgin?" he asked again, desperate for an answer.

"I don't know...it never came up. 'Hey how's the weather?

By the way I'm a virgin.' It doesn't quite flow into conversation, now does it?" Her eyes were teasing him.

He chuckled, and relaxed; this time the smile on her face was authentic. "Well, at least I ken you've never lain with the Campbell." Another chuckle slipped out. "Verily, he'll be furious when he finds out I've bedded his betrothed."

Mackenzie stilled. "What?"

Connor looked confused. "What?"

Her breath stopped, and her eyes lost their teasing light.

"Is that what this was for you? Some perverse test?"

Mackenzie's breathing started up again with a sharply indrawn breath, and her eyes narrowed. "Or is it just about 177

"Nay, I..."

Mackenzie pulled out of his embrace and stepped backwards a few paces. Connor reached for her, but Mackenzie skittered back as if his touch might burn her.

"Don't you touch me!" Her voice rose with the hysteria she was trying to suppress. Her eyes were wild, but they cooled and narrowed with understanding, and she sucked in a quick hiss of air. "Is that why, before, when you asked me my purpose here? Oh that's rich. You're a cruel man, Connor MacRae. I'm so outta here."

Mackenzie picked up her gown and slipped it over her shift, the hell with the stays. The hell with him! All she wanted was to be away from him. Before Connor could reach her, Mackenzie had bolted out the door. Cursing her fingers for being so clumsy with the laces, Mackenzie ran through the hallway holding the gown to her chest.

* * * *

She didn't know where she was running, just that she needed out. Out of the castle, out of everything. Mackenzie wanted to go home. She ran through the art gallery where she'd first seen Connor in the painting. The room was so familiar, and yet slightly different. She paused at the tapestry where Morvern and Gregor had revealed the secret tunnel.

The secret passage! Mackenzie excitedly reached for the medallion she wore around her neck, thinking only of going home. Oh, right, she'd thrown it at Connor. Well, she'd try the passage anyway. She felt around for the lever, and it swung open.
Yes!
As soon as she took her first step in, she released her hold on the gown to feel along the wall for the exit tunnel.

She'd only taken a few tentative steps in the dark passageway when a pair of hands pressed her roughly against the wall. Connor! He'd obviously caught up with her.

"And where do you think you're going?" he breathed against her ear. Gripping her shoulders, he turned her around to face him, and as dark as it was in the tunnel, Mackenzie could see his eyes; they were snapping angry darts at her.

"Well?" he demanded.

"I'm leaving." Mackenzie squeezed her eyes shut and chanted
There's no place like home, there's no place like
home
to herself.

If he was surprised, he hid it well. He barked a short laugh. "And where would you go? To the Campbell?"

179

His eyes turned liquid. "Aye, I care, lass." His voice had lowered and his soft burr caressed her. "You're mine now, sweeting."

"I am
not
yours, like a piece of chattel!" Mackenzie fumed.

"I belong to no one!" She glared mutinously at Connor.

Connor dipped his head, and trailed his lips from her neck to her shoulder where her unlaced gown had slipped down.

Curse her inability to dress herself in these complicated gowns! Curse her traitorous body for warming to his lips!

Curse Connor! Her head fell back against the cool stone wall as he reached her collarbone.

"Mine," he repeated against her decolletage.

Mackenzie's eyes flew open. "Bastard," she breathed. She could actually feel his lips curve into a smile against her skin before he straightened up.

"Come." Connor's warm fingers grasped her elbow and he steered her out of the secret passage. Once they were back in the gallery, Mackenzie dug her heels in and shook his hand loose, dropping one side of her dress off of her shoulder again in the process.

"No."

Connor's eyes narrowed. He looked menacing. Mackenzie suddenly regretted defying him. He took a step towards her and stopped inches away from her; Mackenzie could feel the heat wave crash over her when he was close. But whatever he'd been about to say was interrupted by a man whistling and walking past the gallery. Connor's eyes swiftly took in the 180

"Shall I lace your gown,
my Lady
?" His hands were at her waist, cinching the laces tight before she could say anything.

His voice was mocking, "You seem to have forgotten your stays and petticoats in your haste. Come, we shall have you properly dressed in no time." His hands finished lacing her up and they lingered at her breasts. Mackenzie stepped away from his hands, angry at the way her body responded. She backed away slowly, and she could see by his eyes that Connor knew, he just knew she'd run.

"By all means, Mackenzie, go. I'd enjoy throwing you over my shoulder again. So please run; I'll just fetch you back."

His voice was amused, but his eyes were tight.

It burst out of her, "Why? Why do I matter so much?

Surely there are others who will share your bed? Others more fair and ladylike? Why me?"

"You are fair enough. And mayhap I doona want ladylike."

"Oh, well," she fanned herself with her hand. "My, my, you'll turn my head with all this flattery," Mackenzie sarcastically pressed a hand to her chest in her best Scarlett O'Hara impression.

Connor closed the distance she had put between them, and wrapped his arm around her waist. He brought her close to him so that her breasts brushed his chest, one of her 181