Highland Hellcat (2010) (9 page)

Connor would run her down easily with that stallion of his. The creature was huge and strong from traveling the uneven paths of the Highlands. Frustration bit into her, but she forced herself to be practical. The time was not right now, but if she could employ enough patience, she might yet find a chance to escape.

She would also need to be clever.

Connor Lindsey was no fool, and slipping past him would take some thinking on her part. She drew a deep breath and banished her temper so that she might use all her mental abilities in plotting a solution.

She had to escape. It was the only honorable thing to do. The promise that her father had made to the church bound her to try and take her place at the abbey. There was also the example that her sister Deirdre had just experienced with Melor. Men were not to be trusted and she’d be wise to remember it. They used women for their own gains, and that was a hard fact. Connor Lindsey might claim his intention was to wed her, but there was no contract to bind him to that. The man could very well ruin her and abandon her in order to shame her father for the dishonor Deirdre had painted him with.

It would not be the first time a woman had been used in such a way. Much of Scotland’s history was written in feuds that lasted for generations.

She bit her lower lip, feeling the flicker of something inside her that interfered with her logic. It was a sense that Connor was not the fiend she had called him, a belief that was growing from the lack of brutality in her abduction. The man might easily have used his greater strength to break her, and she doubted anyone would have thought ill of him for it. Her sister had done a grave thing to him, one that the man’s clan would seek retaliation for.

Was that her fate, then? She sat down on a rock and faced the trees while she considered the lack of pain in her body. Her thighs were sore, but no more so than when she hunted. Her face was not bruised, but her fist hurt from when she had struck Connor.

He hadn’t hit her in return.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. She felt her cheeks heating with humiliation as she recalled in perfect clarity the feeling of his hand connecting with her bottom.

“Are ye hoping that sitting there will delay us long enough for yer father’s men to catch up with us?”

Brina jumped, but she landed balanced and evenly as she turned to discover Connor standing a few paces behind her. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes, and she felt her temper flare again for the amusement she seemed to provide him.

“That would be ridiculous, considering we rode all night and the snow would have covered our tracks…” She shook her head, disgusted by the fact that she was so quick to allow her thoughts to spill from her lips. The man was her captor, and if escape was truly her goal, helping him to know that she had the ability to reason was not in her best interest.

She gasped and turned around to cover her mouth with her hand. Of course! She was such a trusting fool not to see the way of it before. She needed to play upon his ignorance of her and her skills. If he believed her tamed, slipping past him would be simple.

“Are ye truly that upset no’ to be on yer way to the abbey, lass?”

Brina turned to look at him. “Of course I am. What manner of daughter do ye believe me to be? If ye think me so easily knocked from the path of being obedient to my father’s will, I cannae understand why ye might wish to take me to wife.”

His lips curled up into a grin, and she realized she had made yet another error. He took two long steps and closed the distance between them. Sensation prickled along her skin, a feeling that she might have expected because of the icy chill in the air, but she knew it came from him being close. Her belly tightened, just as it had when he had touched her.

“Which is exactly why ye are here, Brina, because ye understand honor, and that is what I need in a wife.”

“There is no honor in this abduction. I am nae just another daughter of Robert Chattan; I am promised to the church.” She opened her hands and tried to appeal to his sense of integrity. “I know that Deirdre stung yer pride, and for that I am sorry, but taking me is against everything righteous.”

“I disagree, lass. There is righteousness in a man keeping his word, and when that man is a laird, there is even more so. Yer father made me a promise, and I plan to make sure he keeps it.”

“He promised ye Deirdre.”

Connor shook his head. “He promised me an alliance that would be sealed with marriage to one of his daughters.”

“Which ye know full well was to be my sister Deirdre. Everyone knows that. It is the only reason Melor Douglas sought her out.”

He closed another step, judging her reaction to his nearness. Brina ordered herself to stand firmly in place, confident in her position because that was something he would understand. Quivering or pleading would only allow him to see her as bendable to his will, so she kept her chin level.

Connor slowly smiled when she held firmly in her stance. She had to tip her head up maintain eye contact because he was now so close.

“I do believe, sweet Brina, that ye would have done better if Melor had tried his hand at seducing ye.”

She scoffed at him, and he chuckled when he heard the distinctly unfeminine sound. “No man has ever tried such a thing, because I am
promised
to the church.” She threw her hands into the air. “Ye are daft even to make such a comparison.”

He laughed at her temper, his eyes sparkling with enjoyment.

“Now that is my point exactly, Brina. Ye are an interesting combination of feminine wiles and practicality. Ye are nae so concerned with me becoming angry because ye speak to me so directly, because ye are accustomed to being direct in everything ye do.” His grin faded, and his expression became serious. “Ye do nae know how to employ deception.”

She frowned, realizing that her outspokenness was going to undermine her attempt to escape from him. If the man respected her, he wouldn’t lower his guard.

“Yet that is another reason for ye to give me my mare and allow me to depart. Our marriage bed will be a cold one, for I am too old to be taught new ways now.”

His eyes narrowed, but not in anger as she had witnessed before. This time there was an unmistakable sensuality about his expression. Brina stared because it fascinated her to see a man looking at her like that. A warning was ringing in the back of her mind but couldn’t seem to break through the spell of her fixation.

“Well now, lass, that is a matter of opinion, and no’ one that ye may argue with, for a man does nae choose what he likes. He is just as powerless against it as ye are. I assure ye that I am up to the challenge of enticing ye to learn new ways.”

Alarm raced through her, and she jerked her gaze away from his face. “That was nae meant to be a challenge but to make ye see reason.”

Turning her attention away from him was unnerving. She felt a tingle on the back of her neck. She looked back at him to discover that he had taken advantage of the opportunity she’d afforded him and was standing right in front of her now, his hand hovering over her cheek, where her blush stained the skin scarlet.

She jumped away, only to find that he’d grasped a handful of her skirts, and the hold kept her in place while his fingers gently brushed the side of her face. He did it slowly, his eyes glittering as he watched his hand traveling along the side of her jaw.

“Ye say ye do nae like me, and yet ye blush, Brina. That is something that cannae be ignored. It is the woman in ye, the one who ye have tried to suppress, but now ye do nae need to any longer. I promise that I will show ye how to enjoy every moment of being in our marriage bed.”

She shivered, the stroke of his fingers sending a ripple of awareness through her that shocked her with its intensity. His fingertips continued across her face until they touched her lower lip, and she gasped, never having guessed that her mouth might be so sensitive.

“I will nae dishonor my father’s word, nae for any amount of pleasure.”

She swatted the hand holding her skirts, but all that gained her was a smarting palm, because the man never moved. His fingers remained locked in the fabric of her garments, his grasp pulling down slightly so that she was pinned in place. He stepped closer, and her nipples tingled just because she could feel him so near.

His hand was no longer on her lips, so there was no true contact between them, but she could smell him and hear his every breath as he kept her in place with the grip on her skirts. The hems of both robes covered his feet, and she discovered it an intimate thing for him to be so near her.

“We are nae getting any closer to agreeing by discussing it, lass.”

“On that, I concur.”

His hand cupped her cheek again. “Ah… we agree. Now that is exactly what I was hoping to hear from ye.” He slid his hand toward the back of her head to curl around her nape beneath the single plait of her hair. He leaned over, and she felt the brush of his breath against the skin that his fingers had traveled over. She arched her neck, seeking distance, but the hand clasping her nape held her in place.

“So perhaps we should try something a bit different and see what sort of reaction we gain from one another.” He kissed her cheek and then trailed light touches of his lips along the entire length of her blush. Pleasure went racing through her, and she was powerless to prevent a soft sound from escaping her lips.

“Ah… more agreement…”

Confusion clouded her thinking for moment. He angled his head and bent down so that he might kiss her. The first touch of his lips was soul shattering. She jerked, her hands coming up to plant solidly against his chest and push with every ounce of strength she had. She twisted her face away from his, escaping from the kiss for a moment.

“No one has ever kissed me!” she shrieked, unable to remain composed. She struck out at him, her nails trying to find something soft to dig into.

“A fact that needs changing.”

In spite of her temper, his voice was controlled and husky. He leaned down and placed another soft kiss against her cheek. “Admit that ye enjoy it, Brina. I swear I do as well, for yer lips are as sweet as honey.”

She shivered, the dark promise in his voice threatening to lure her away like a fairy song from legend.

“But… it’s… sinful…”

The fingers on the back of her neck tightened, pulling forward a small amount so that her face tipped back up and presented her mouth to his once again. He hovered over her mouth for a moment, and she saw that he was holding back, tempering his desire.

“I swear that I will wed ye, Brina. There will be no shame, only pleasure.”

He kissed her again, this time following her when she turned away from the contact. It wasn’t a hard kiss. Connor controlled himself, and she shuddered because she knew that he was employing effort on her behalf. That knowledge overwhelmed her with how tender it was, and she lost the battle to resist. Her mouth moved beneath his, trying to mimic his motions.

“That’s the way, lass…” The hand on her nape began to guide her instead of binding her.

She liked his kiss. It was a hard certainty that filled her mind as his lips slid along hers, teasing and gently tasting, while she shivered in the grip of not knowing what to do. Even if she had been instructed at some point on how to kiss, Brina doubted she could have recalled what the lesson entailed. She was too overwhelmed by sensation to think. It flooded her and took her down into a moment where there was nothing except the way his mouth moved against her own.

He surrounded her, and her body felt as though it was made to melt against his harder one. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she wanted to sigh with the enjoyment she gained from it. Her nipples tingled and drew into hard buttons when his lips became bolder against her own.

His kiss lost its innocent touch, becoming harder by degrees as his hand guided her head into the position he wanted. The tip of his tongue glided across her lower lip, shocking her again, only this time she eagerly embraced that shock. She wanted to be closer to it, to him, and she tried to move her lips in unison with his. Excitement was growing inside her, and she became eager to discover what his next touch might be.

He growled softly, but the tone was almost wicked. Her eyes sprang open as she recognized the sound in some deep part of her mind that harbored every thought that had been labeled forbidden.

“Enough, Connor.”

She pushed against his chest, and his hold slackened. She never would have escaped by trying to back away from him, so she ducked beneath his arm and hiked up her skirts so that she might move faster.

“Damn it all… Brina…”

She didn’t wait to hear what else he planned to say to soothe her. Brina made it past the rocks that had granted her privacy from his men, and stumbled down the few steps to where the horses were getting a last pat from their riders. A soft cry crossed her lips when she spied her mare. A younger lad held the reins, but she took them from him quickly and wrapped them around her fingers.

A hard hand clamped down on top of the strips of leather. It wasn’t a hard grip, but it was firm enough to trap her.

Connor placed his other hand on the side of the mare, pinning Brina between his arms. He wasn’t actually touching her, only caging her with his arms and body, but she quivered, too aware of him by far. Sensation was coursing through her veins like whisky. Somehow she’d failed to notice that he was so much larger than she. It was a fact that she encountered daily with Bran and her father’s retainers, but Connor was different. She noticed his strength for reasons that were dark mysteries inside her mind, and feelings arose from those shadows while she became increasingly aware of the way his body might shelter hers.

“Easy, Brina…”

“I am at ease,” she snapped. “I want to ride my own horse; that’s all.”

She heard him draw in a stiff breath, the fingers wrapped around her own gently massaging.

“Can I trust ye on yer own horse?”

Her eyes widened. She had never told a lie. Brina stared at the velvet-covered side of her mare and debated how to answer him. “I… um…”