His Woman (14 page)

“Aye. After your attempted abduction, you needed to rest. I asked the healer to brew the tea with something that would relax you.” On a tender smile, he drew her hand into his and laced his fingers through hers. “How do you feel?”

Groggy, too aware of him, and her defenses dangerously weak. “I need to be out of bed.” And away from him. Tucked within the comfort of the bed and lulled by herbs designed to soothe her, it would be easy to give in to the desire-filled fantasies pouring through her mind. She set her hands at each side of the featherbed and started to push herself up.

Duncan helped her sit, but he didn’t release her or move away.

With their faces but inches apart, she tried not to focus on his closeness, or how he watched her with a longing that made her heart ache. How she’d prayed for him to look at her so. Now, with the moment here, she could accept nothing. With his worry for her, she doubted he realized he’d revealed the depth of his concern for her.

Regret swept Isabel. She withdrew her hand. “My thanks.”

Silence fell between them. The stillness seemed to invite truths—truths she could never give. She closed her eyes, inhaled, savored the soft smell of lavender, the hint of smoke from the fire, and his very male presence.

The last thing she wanted to invite was intimacy, but it surrounded her, entangled with too many emotions she dared not identify.

With a sigh, she looked through the crafted glass. Through the window, a wash of purples infused with gold streamed across the darkening sky. “It is sunset. I have missed the day.”

“You needed to sleep.”

“And I have.” Isabel shifted from the bed to stand. Her gown, rumpled from her hours of rest, clung to her. Heat stroked her cheeks as she caught Duncan’s eyes lingering upon her shear gown, the swells of her breasts under the delicate fabric. Beneath his heated gaze, warmth slid through her, and her nipples hardened.

He stood.

Nerves danced upon her skin like faerie’s wings. “I…I need to be alone.” Her request fell out in a rough whisper, one filled with the longing she fought to shield. She turned away, the shudders coursing over her body having nothing to do with the icy winds outside.

He stepped closer.

“Duncan?”

“Aye?”

His breath feathered over her neck with forbidden softness. He could not stay. “You should leave.”

“Should I?” He touched her shoulder; she stiffened. With aching slowness, he skimmed his hand along the collar of her neck, pausing at her throat to run his thumb up, then slowly down the soft column.

Isabel swallowed, fought the desire storming her, the heat blanketing her until she struggled to remember why this intimacy was wrong.

Duncan turned her to face him. He pressed his index finger over her lips. “This day, you were almost lost to me.” He paused, his face taut with pain, with the struggle that assured her that he fought his own battles when it came to her.

“Once you were safe, asleep from the healer’s herbs, I left you under the watch of a trusted servant. I assured myself it was best if I stayed away from you.”

He looked away, his gaze sliding over the faeries upon the ceiling, then gave a rough laugh. “I tried. I battled with myself for hours in an attempt to put you from my mind. But since the day our lives again crossed, regardless of my attempt to ban all thoughts of you, my mind betrays me. Even as I sent the maid away from your chamber moments ago with assurances that I would keep watch over you this night, I knew coming to you was dangerous. Yet…here I am.” He swallowed hard. “Tell me that you do not want my touch, to know the depth of what exists between us?”

Aching with need, Isabel opened her mouth to deny him. Silence fell between them. Trembling, she closed her mouth and turned away.

He caught her chin and gently turned her face toward him. “Look at me.”

Tears of frustration blurred her eyes as she complied. How she loved Duncan, wanted him with her every breath. “You know not what you ask of me.”

“I do.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Too well.” With a groan he skimmed his mouth across her brow, along the angle of cheek, then his tongue toyed with the soft curve of her ear. “Bedamned with the reasons this is wrong. Tell me that you do not want me.”

Isabel’s pulse raced, heat flushed her body until it ravaged her with destroying heat. She tried to reply, to deny him what she ached for with every fiber.

And couldn’t.

Duncan laced Isabel’s fingers through his own. “Tell me that you do not want me,” he repeated.

The air, drenched with moonlight, laden with unspoken desire, seemed to ignite between them, a heat so raw, so intense that her body pulsed with unspent energy. However wrong, she could not deny him.

Slowly, as if she’d spoken her deepest desires, Duncan freed his fingers from hers and his hands began a sensuous journey up her arms. Her skin tingled along his path, his every touch warming her blood into a dangerous heat. His hands rounded her shoulders and then edged upward to pause at the sensitive curve of her chin.

He angled her head toward his, drew her forward until the curve of his mouth shadowed her own. “Say you want me.”

His husky burr rippled through her with a wanton thrill, her senses blurred with her need for him. “Duncan, I…”

“Say it.”

She fought to remain silent, but his touch, her wanting his love, broke through all her well-placed barriers. “Damn you, I want you.”

Satisfaction flashed in his eyes.

“But your injuries—”

“My injuries be damned.” His mouth captured hers, hot, hard, demanding everything and more. She succumbed to his touch, to his taste, to the man she’d wanted forever.

Beneath his skilled mouth, her body began to tremble, her mind tangled into a daze of sensual bliss until she was lost to everything but him. To his male taste, a blend of gentle and demanding. When Isabel thought she couldn’t feel more, Duncan angled his head and proved her wrong.

Her entire body vibrated beneath his wondrous assault. The reasons why she’d resisted Duncan fell away to euphoria.

This moment was theirs.

Now.

Forever.

Isabel pressed her body flush against his, appreciating his every muscle, the gentle strength with which he held her, the controlled power of his touch. Memories of their youthful passion hadn’t prepared her for the desires of the man, but she savored the learning.

Firelight illuminated Duncan’s body as his hands caressed her cheek, sliding to tease the curve of her ear, along the silken edge of her jaw, and all the places she’d not known could make her feel so wonderful.

Joy swept through her at his rumble of pleasure, of how his body hardened against hers. This was the moment she’d sought, a moment she’d never dreamed to experience.

Until now.

Lost to her own desire, the brush of cool air upon her sensitized skin had her opening her eyes in surprise to find him watching her, his gaze scalding.

“I need to touch all of you.” Duncan leaned back as he spoke, watching her as he untied the next knot.

Her gown fell open, exposing her fully to his view. The shame she should feel at her wanton desire never came. Satisfaction filled her instead.

Green eyes held hers with reverence as the pads of his fingers eased across the swell of her breast to linger. They dipped and teased, making her knees tremble until she believed they’d give way. Still holding her gaze, he leaned down and caught one tip within his mouth, toyed, teased her with his tongue until she moaned from the sheer pleasure of it.

Never had she known it would feel this amazing to be with a man, his touch a dangerous heat that ravaged her soul. No, not any man.

“Duncan.”

Isabel’s voice, thick with desire, poured through Duncan with a scorching heat. With his body an inferno, he claimed her mouth and savored one more long, drugging kiss, then he drew back and looked his fill. Her lips were slick, swollen with his kisses, her eyes glazed with passion, and her nipples taut beckoning his touch. In the moonlight, she looked like a rumpled faerie who’d lost her way.

A faerie who this night would be his.

His body demanded he take her, and he would, but he would see to her pleasure first, taste her in all the ways he’d only imagined.

Helpless to touch, to savor what for so long had been denied, he trailed his hands along the soft curve of her breasts until he cupped their full weight, then he gently squeezed her nipples.

Her lips parted, her eyes darkened with passion, inflaming him further.

With his body aching for her, Duncan lowered his head to again taste, caress, inhale her woman’s scent that drove him insane. He wanted her like this, exposed before him without doubt, her desire splayed before him without regret.

Need built inside him like a fanned flame as he skimmed his tongue across her silken skin. With each taste, he wanted more. With his every touch, he sought her complete abandonment. One he would have. Isabel, if truth be told, was an addiction he could not refuse.

Slowly, he inched her flimsy gown away, relishing the pale skin exposed beneath the flickers of firelight. Soft curves framed within slender angles designed to lure, a body meant to seduce.

Naked before him, he took in her every detail, his hands mirroring his visual path. With aching slowness, he followed her flat stomach, the curve of her hips, to the tumble of amber curls shielding her most prized possession.

Beneath his touch, she inhaled deeply.

He met her gaze, her tremulous smile he owed to a reaction of nerves. “You are beautiful,” he whispered.

Redness stroked her cheeks in an inviting blend of hunger and innocence. “I think…”

“Nay think, just feel.”

On a soft breath, she nodded.

“Feel me as I touch you. See how I want you so much my body trembles with the need of it.” With her watching him, he splayed the folds of her sultry mound to expose her, the warm essence of her pulsing against his fingers. Drawn by an elemental force, a need to claim her, he knelt and leaned forward to taste.

“Duncan?”

The quiver in her voice struck him as somehow odd, but a hand’s length from his goal, his mind was glazed with imagining the beauty their union would bring.

Until he looked up and saw worry fragmented her brow.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Only pleasure will come.”

“It…It is not that. I…”

Coldness swept him. Did she think of Frasyer? Wish she were with him? Bedamned! He’d not be a stand-in for the man she wanted.

Duncan jerked his hand away and stood. His entire body vibrated with anger.

Her face blanched.

The guilt carved within her face incensed him further. “Get dressed.”

“What is wrong?” she asked, seemingly bewildered.

He gave a harsh laugh. “As if you know not?”

“I—”

“Why do you hesitate when I touch you?” he asked, hating the question, the anger pouring through his voice, aware jealousy incited his words. But he had to ask, to know. “Why act the virgin with me when for the past three years, you have given yourself freely to Frasyer?”

Amber eyes widened with horror. “I would never think of Frasyer when I am with you.”

“That is something at least.” But doubts engulfed him, damning what should have been beautiful between them now a catastrophe. Duncan glared at her, stunned by what he’d almost done. So caught up in wanting to make love to her, for a moment he’d forgotten her betrayal. And for what, a meaningless romp? No, for him it had mattered. “Would you have slept with me?”

She looked down. “Yes.”

At her shame-laden reply, hurting, he was disgusted with himself that after everything, he could still want her. A fleeting hope came to mind. “After we have proven your father’s innocence, do not return to Frasyer.”

Isabel blanched and turned away. “I cannot promise.”

“Cannot or choose not to?”

“You do not understand.”

“An answer that seems to suit you often since I rescued you from Frasyer’s dungeon.”

At his charge, she faced him then, her eyes wrought with pain, but determination as well. “Once you freed me from the dungeon, I did not ask you to stay.”

“Nay,” he said, drawing himself to his full height. “You did not. And when this is all past, if you choose to return to Frasyer’s bed, a mistake I will not be making again.” Before he could make himself more the fool, he snatched her gown and shoved it toward her. “Dress yourself.”

Isabel drew it against her nakedness like a shield, as if to hide what moments before she’d freely offered. She didn’t look at Duncan, and he found himself wanting her to. To lift her head and swear that Frasyer meant nothing to her. That it was always Duncan she’d wanted, that circumstances unknown to him guided her to walk away from her vow.

She remained silent.

A yell from outside caught their attention.

Breaking away from the spell she wove, Duncan strode to the window and frowned. The distant groan of the drawbridge sounded as it was raised, followed by the clatter of chains on the portcullis. “A runner arrives. I pray it is with good news.”

Her heart pounded as Isabel hurried to stand by his side as the single rider cantered across the narrow road leading to the castle, the bordering water on either side of the pathway frozen and dusted with snow.

“Do you think he carries news of my father?”

“Nay. With the past storm, our man will not return for at least another day. It is most likely a messenger whom we are expecting.” He gave her a sober look. “I must leave. Put on your gown and return to bed.” He paused as if debating his words. “I will be away from Lochshire Castle on the morrow, as well as my brothers. We will be gone but a day, two at most. You will be safe here.”

Worry flickered on her face. “You have not fully healed. You need at least another day to rest.”

“I will determine my needs,” he said sharply.

With her body still throbbing with the desires he’d ignited, the fury in Duncan’s gaze was a chilling reminder of the cruel reality that stood between them. She wanted to urge him not to travel, to explain that her innocence this night hadn’t been an act, that it was always him she’d ever wanted.

Then what?

Warmth swirled around her like a cradle of hope.
Trust him,
a soft voice murmured in her mind.

She wanted to, desperately. His every step away from her was tearing her apart.

As he stormed from the chamber, Isabel could only watch as the last of her heart crumbled. The slap of the door echoed in his wake. Angry steps faded as he hurried down the stairs.

Isabel closed her eyes, aching. Over the past three years, she’d convinced herself she could live the role she’d played of Frasyer’s mistress. Now, with Duncan’s touch still lingering upon her skin, his unspoken promises unfulfilled, she realized she was wrong.

But how could she exit the role she’d chosen to play? To keep her father out of debtor’s prison, after she’d delivered the Bible, she must return to Frasyer. In that she had no choice. Now when she returned to Moncreiffe Castle, she would be even more aware of the cell he’d crafted within her chamber. A cruel imprisonment, one without bars, without love, a chamber offering only an empty life and promises of a cold future.

Isabel tugged on her gown and stumbled to her bed. She crawled beneath the covers and curled into a ball. But she didn’t cry. She hurt too much, wanted Duncan too deeply to succumb to such a petty show of emotion.

Pillowing her hands beneath her cheek, she stared at the faeries painted on the ceiling. Before they had seemed so close, as if she might reach up and touch them. Now they seemed distant, an elusive dream.

Like her time with Duncan.

Her attraction to him would always be strong. How could it not be? She loved him. She’d been a fool to believe she could remain with Duncan, even for a while, and resist.

Though Seathan had forbade her to leave Lochshire Castle, with him as well as Nichola having already guessed she still loved Duncan, their knowledge of her feelings would lead to further trial. She must depart before she weakened and,
God
forbid, before she told Duncan the truth. Thankfully, Duncan was healing quickly if he planned to travel in the morning with his brothers. The way he’d stormed from her chamber moments ago attested to the fact.

But then, how she could ignore Duncan’s request for her not to return to Frasyer? Tears built in her throat. How she’d wanted to say yes. Another dream lost.

Resigned to her fate, Isabel slipped from the bed and walked to the window.

The runner’s horse had cantered from beneath the gatehouse and had reined to a halt. The portcullis, as the drawbridge, remained up, which meant they expected the runner to depart in a short while.

Her heart lurched. She could leave now. With the cover of darkness and the brothers preoccupied, the many hours before her absence was noticed would increase her odds of escape. And with them leaving the castle early on the morrow, it gave her another day before a search for her would begin.

Oh, but Duncan would be angry. Still, he’d fulfilled his vow to Symon and she couldn’t endanger his life further. Otherwise the last three years of suffering at Frasyer’s side would have been for naught.

She would find the Bible alone. She had no choice.

A soft warmth brushed over her.

Isabel whirled, expecting to find that a servant had entered while she was lost in her distress.