Highland Surrender (13 page)

Authors: Dawn Halliday

BOOK: Highland Surrender

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The corridor traveled the width of the stable building, with bales of hay piled high against the wall on one side. Rob and Ceana were both turned away from her, facing the small, square window at the opposite wall. Rob held Ceana captured in his muscular arms, and she threw her head back as Rob’s lips ravaged her neck and jaw.

Raising her hand, Elizabeth gripped the edge of the floor to steady herself.

Rob moved Ceana ahead until he pressed her face forward against the wall between the window and a bale of hay. Leaning over, he bunched his hands in her wine-colored skirts, pulling them upward until he grasped the back of her knee at the top of her garter. Ceana flattened her hands and pressed her cheek against the wall, making no attempt to stop him.

He lifted her leg and propped her foot on the bale of hay, then ran his fingers downward over the wool stocking covering her calf. She shuddered against the stone wall. Rob tugged her dress higher, flipping it over her back, and then, wasting no time, he slid his fingers between the pale globes of her buttocks. Ceana jerked and whimpered as he stroked the flesh between her legs in harsh, rough passes. He kissed her cheek, her jaw. He yanked her dress down past her shoulder and kissed the skin he exposed to the damp midnight air.

Elizabeth’s tongue circled her lips as she stared at them.

“Rob,” Ceana groaned. “Rob.”

With one hand, Rob grasped her just above her hip bone. With the other, he pulled his plaid aside and grasped his cock. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of the flushed tip as he guided it between Ceana’s legs. Notching himself in her entrance, he gripped Ceana’s waist in both hands and jerked her toward him. Ceana cried out. Rob was utterly silent.

Elizabeth’s heart pounded in her ears, loud as a drum. Surely they could hear it. Perhaps not, not with their joined harsh exhalations each time Rob thrust into Ceana. Rob’s fingers bit into her white flesh, and his head dipped down.

Ceana reached back, and her fingertips grasped the fabric of his blue plaid and yanked him closer.

His teeth closed on her shoulder.

Ceana groaned. Her body arched and undulated beneath him. Rob held her flush against him, his profile an agonized mask of restraint. She went limp, and Rob began again, this time at a quicker pace, thrusting into her fast and hard, his eyes closed, his lips in a tight white line. Ceana pressed her forehead against the wall and took his battering.

A cold, cruel sense of unjustness and the hot flush of excitement tangled together within Elizabeth, coalescing into a perverse agony. Just as Elizabeth was certain she must move, must cry out, must run away or do anything rather than endure watching them for one second longer, Rob pulled out and, with a low groan, released his seed over Ceana’s lower back. Elizabeth watched in fascination as ropes of white covered the dimple at the top of Ceana’s buttocks.

Rob slumped over her, supporting himself with one hand on the wall beside her smaller one.

Elizabeth stood as still as a statue, watching. Tears stung her eyes.

Lord help her, she wished it had been her.

Finally, Rob straightened and murmured something to Ceana in a low voice. He turned, but not before Elizabeth’s wits returned. She flew down the stairs, out the door, across the darkened corridor, through the dining room, kitchen, and storage room, and back up the secret stairs to the frigid loneliness of her room.

CHAPTER SIX

C
eana leaned against the wall, her strength sapped, as Rob stroked the soft cloth over her skin. When he finished, he gently lowered her skirts, and she let her foot slip off the bale of hay and onto the planked wood floor.

Slowly, she turned to face him. Heat crept into her cheeks. Perhaps it was a mistake to have allowed him to touch her tonight. In truth, she’d needed it as urgently as he had, but that didn’t make either of their motivations acceptable.

“We can’t do this anymore,” she said.

His lips tightened. He held out his hand. “Sit with me.”

She grasped his hand and followed him through the arched doorway into his quarters. The stable boys lived in the barracks with the earl’s men, so Rob possessed the entire upper level of the stables as his quarters. The large chamber was split down the middle by a partition separating the living and dining space from the sleeping area. The area possessed the added benefit of a stone fireplace at each end. Altogether royal accommodation, but the Earls of Camdonn, she’d learned, had always taken their horseflesh seriously.

Castoffs from the keep furnished the room, creating a comfortable, if mismatched, ensemble. She chose a frayed velvety plum-colored sofa and sank into it as Rob knelt at the grate to start a fire.

At dinner, she’d observed the furtive glances Elizabeth had directed at Rob, and in return his heated stares at her. All night long, a fierce spark had buzzed between the stable master and the future countess.

Ceana doubted anyone else had witnessed it, but she was intuitive in these matters. At first she was surprised that Rob would be attracted to a woman like Elizabeth, but as she observed them, it began to make more sense. Elizabeth’s intelligence and poise shielded a core of soft vulnerability that had shimmered beneath her skin and deep in her eyes all night long.

Rob would like a woman like that. Ceana was neither soft nor vulnerable, and Rob, though he’d never said it outright, wished she were. He wanted a woman he could protect and shelter. Ceana was too independent for that. Perhaps Elizabeth, despite her cool demeanor, wasn’t.

Ceana felt neither resentment nor jealousy toward either of them—a further sign that it was over between her and Rob. Instead, her heart panged with sympathy for them both. Anything between them was impossible. She sighed. It seemed matters of love extended their cruelty to people beyond herself.

“How long will you be here?” Rob asked, his back to her.

“Until the earl is completely healed, I suppose. I want to be certain the wound heals well.”

“Why?” Rob asked.

“I . . .” Her voice faltered. “I would do the same for anyone.” But would she?

“You could make it easier for many.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you encouraged the wound to fester. Allowed him to die.” Rob crouched beside the fireplace and looked back at her with eyes that glittered with gold flecks in the light of the fire.

She spoke through clenched teeth. “It is against my nature as a healer to allow that to happen to anyone, friend or foe. And Cam isn’t . . . Well, he isn’t a foe.” She paused. “And who would be his successor? A remote English cousin who cares naught for this land?”

“Some say the earl himself doesn’t care.”

“He does,” she said flatly.

Rob turned back to the hearth.

“Did you hope I’d agree to such a thing?” she asked in a low voice. The idea that he might wish Cam dead made her feel like a boulder had settled in the pit of her stomach.

After a long silence, Rob said, “No.”

She released a long breath of relief.

He rose and came to sit beside her. “But there are others who would.”

“I know.”

They sat in the quiet for a long time, the only sound the whisper of the fire. Rob’s hand rested comfortably on her thigh. She didn’t try to remove it.

“What are we doing, Rob?”

He just gazed at her, eyes hooded. She had no idea what he was thinking. She wished she could read him better.

“I’m not the one you wanted tonight,” she said.
And you’re not the one I wanted . . .

They’d come together in mutual frustration. Ceana couldn’t deny that she’d sought him out because she craved release from the tension of being near the earl
.
And after witnessing the feral need in Rob, she suspected the same held true for him, with Elizabeth.

“You are drawn to the English lass.”

He straightened. “That would be daft.”

“Nevertheless, it is true.”

He sighed. His eyes flickered away. “I am drawn to you too, Ceana.”

“I’m not enough for you,” she said gently. “You need something more. A wife. A family.”

“I need . . .” He paused, staring at the fire. “I don’t know what I need.”

“Don’t risk it,” she murmured. “Stay away from Lady Elizabeth. She also is incapable of providing you with what you need.”

“How can you know that?” He clamped his lips shut, as if the words had emerged before he could stop them, and looked away.

“You cannot marry her. You cannot
be
with her. To pursue her would be folly.”

He said nothing, just thrust a hand through his dark hair.

“I say this only as someone who cares about you. I would not begrudge you her, but the earl—and the duke—surely would.”

“I know,” he ground out. He looked like he’d rather not be a part of this discussion. Ceana sighed and covered his hand with her own.

“I won’t be returning,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t be.”

“I still care for you.”

His bronze gaze rested on her for a long moment, and then he nodded, his fingers tightening on her thigh. “Aye.”

She gave him a faltering smile, affection for him overwhelming her. If only there were no curse. If only they were right for each other. She closed her eyes, remembering the powerful rush of sensation she’d experienced that very first night when he’d taken her in her cottage.

But it was never meant to be. It was a carnal relationship, nothing more. And if they continued it now, it would only damage them both in the end.

Gently, she pushed his hand off her thigh. “Good-bye, Rob.”

Ceana stared at the sleeping earl. Dinner last night had sapped his strength. His color wasn’t nearly as good as yesterday morning. He must keep to his bed until he was stronger. If he pushed himself too hard, he’d succumb to a fever, just as he had when Alan wounded him in the duel.

Reaching forward, she brushed a strand of black hair from his cheek. His eyelids fluttered, then opened. The dark orbs settled on her, and his lips twitched into a lazy smile.

“Ceana.” His voice was rough with sleep.

She smiled at him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He reached up. His hand curled behind her neck, and he pulled her down. Before she could think, his lips moved against hers in a silken glide and her hands were sifting through the satin strands of his hair.

His fingers were hard on her neck, but his lips were soft and warm. His tongue flicked against the side of her mouth, and he took the kiss deeper.

Heat bloomed between Ceana’s legs and spread through her body, softening her muscles and making her blood rush through her veins. Her breast pressed against the side of his chest, the nipple hardening as it brushed over the blanket covering him.

She wanted him, but . . .

She couldn’t do this. There were a thousand reasons not to.

She jerked away.

“Cam . . .” There was a pleading tone in her voice she didn’t try to hide. Cam had burrowed past her brittle facade. He must know how much she wanted him, what a battle she raged against herself to do what was right. “I can’t . . .”

How blissful it would be if she could strip off her clothes and lie beside him now. Press her body against his from head to toe. Make sweet love with him all day long.

His dark eyes locked on her as she pushed a stray curl out of her eye.

“I can’t help it,” he murmured in a gruff voice. “I will go mad if I don’t touch you.”

“You must not touch me.”

He closed his eyes wearily. “There are certain things that I cannot control. I wish I could . . . but I can’t.”

“Of course you can.”

He opened his eyes, and there was a deep sadness in the brown depths. “No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I believe I know how I’d like to be—how I should be—but I cannot.” He ground his teeth in frustration.