In the Highlander's Bed (20 page)

“And what of the sword?” Constance asked. “What of the Cause?”

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Grace and Fiona exchanged glances but said nothing.

It was the silence that bothered Constance the most. “I’m not a fool,” she said. “I’ve heard the rumblings that most of the clan would rather stay here and not fight the English. But you can’t,” she pointed out.

“Gordon is right. Sooner or later the soldiers will come. You either build an army or flee. He’ll never run.”

Fiona picked up the paddle. She studied the wood a moment before saying, “It’s just that I thought you cared for him.”

Constance could have shouted that she did, but she also loved him and knew there was only one course for Gordon, one path.

Besides, they were wrong. She wasn’t brave. She’d never reveal the depth of her feelings for Gordon.

What if he didn’t share them? It would crush her.

The subject was dropped. The other two women talked of the weather or gossiped over some bit of camp nonsense as Constance busied herself with the laundry, Fiona and Grace’s words heavy on her mind.

A part of herwanted to lay her soul bare to Gordon. But her pride wouldn’t let her. After all, she was a Cameron. She’d learned the hard way how to hold her head high.

Still, shewas anxious to see Gordon, and in the back of her mind, Grace’s words were taking hold.

Unfortunately, he did not make an appearance at supper. Constance overheard Fiona ask after him.

One of the men said that he’d struck off on horseback an hour ago. Not even Thomas knew where he was going or to what purpose.

That left Constance alone. Again.

She wondered if he’d left because he received some word from the duke. The thought spoiled her appetite. Later, she paced the confines of the tent. The hour came when she usually went to bed. Instead, she waited, folding and refolding the clothes. Tad watched her as if he, too, worried.

At last Constance couldn’t take it any longer. “Why am I such a fool?” she asked Tad aloud.

The dog wagged his tail, an agreeable grin on his face.

“He can’t love me. He doesn’t have anything to give, not with this rebellion brewing.”

Tad’s response was to come over and nudge one hand with his wet nose.

Constance pushed her hair back with her hand, giving the dog’s head a pat with the other. “It’s not meant to be,” she whispered. “It never was. Grace and Fiona don’t understand, but I do.” She wanted to cry.

Suddenly, the close confines of the tent, of being surrounded by what he owned, threatened to overwhelm her. A Cameron didn’t cry over what couldn’t be changed.

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Grabbing the Lachlan tartan she used as a shawl, Constance went outside. The damp night air felt good against her overheated skin. She skirted the edges of the camp, wanting to be alone. Tad trotted at her heels.

She walked in the opposite direction of the Cliffs, where she might run into someone she knew. She skirted past the stables and took the route along the shoreline.

There was a ring around the moon, a sign that the weather would change. Already clouds were drifting across the sky.

She should have brought the lantern with her, she thought. She’d left it burning in the tent. But she was just as happy to move without being seen. Tall firs lined the shore, giving her a sense of being enveloped by nature and the night. Tad left to chase game, his usual routine.

She had to concentrate on where she was going to keep from tripping—and yet, she could not rid her mind of Gordon.

Constance stopped at the edge of a small cove. So this was what it was like to love someone? They consumed your thoughts, your well-being. Such strong emotion could not be healthy. She’d been happier before he came into her life.

She decided that a swim was what she needed. She’d grown up on the edges of the Ohio River. Cold water would clear her mind, and the brazenness of the act would exert her independence.

Before common sense could intrude, Constance tore off her clothes to her petticoats. Tossing moccasins and skirts aside, she ran into the loch, moving fast, knowing from experience that the best way to fend off the first icy shock was speed.

It worked. She was three steps in, the water barely up to her knees, and the last thing on her mind was Gordon Lachlan. One quick dip under and she’d be so frozen she wouldn’t be able to think of anything but a warm fire.

She turned to rush back to shore when, belatedly, she realized she wasn’t alone.

A tall shadow of a man stood some ten feet away from her.

She ducked down in the water for cover, even as he made a sound of surprise.It was Gordon .

He had no trouble recognizing her, either. “Constance? What you are doing here?”

“Bathing?” she suggested, panic making her stupid. Or perhaps it was the cold. The shivers set in. Dear mercy, the water tightened her skin to numbness. “What are you doing?”

“I’d gone for a walk. I went to the tent, saw you were up, and thought to give you a bit more privacy.”

No amount of cold water could keep the thought from her mind that what he’d actually meant was that he was wasting time until she was asleep again.

“Come here,” he said, sounding worried. “That water is too cold to stand in.”

He was right.

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“I’ll c-come in,” she said, even her words starting to shiver. “Y-You g-go.”

“I’ll not leave you alone. Not naked.”

“I n-n-not an n-naked,” she answered nervously. “P-Petticoats.”

“Fine. Come in.” When she still didn’t make a move, he picked up her dress. “Here, I’ll close my eyes.

Trust me.”

She decided she would. That was the kind of man he was. Meanwhile, parts of her body were growing numb from the water temperature.

“A-All r-right. C-Close your eyes.”

“They are closed.”

She stood to run the short distance to shore. At first her legs refused to move. The loch bottom was soft and muddy and she no longer had feeling in her toes. But at the same time, her face was burning hot with embarrassment.

Reaching the bank, she snatched her dress from his hands and charged into the deeper shadows of the trees. Standing behind one trunk, she quickly threw on her dress, not bothering to dry herself.

She could hear him move. She glanced around the tree, her body still shaking from cold.

He waited, his body a silhouette against the moonlit water. He’d picked up the tartan and was holding it for her.

Constance drew back to her side of the tree and flipped her wet braid over her shoulder. Her beloved moccasins were still on the shore, but she wasn’t going to waste time searching for them. Instead, she would sneak away now and reach the tent before he did. She longed to be wrapped up in her quilt and feigning sleep. That way she wouldn’t have to explain why she’d run all but naked into the loch.

Unfortunately, Tad chose that moment to return. He showed up at Constance’s side, and then hearing Gordon, happily bounded over to him.

She was caught.

Drawing a fortifying breath, she came out behind the tree.

“Here, sit down,” Gordon said, not waiting for an answer but gently pushing her to sit on a rock. He threw his tartan over her shoulders and then helped put first one moccasin and then the other on, taking a moment to brush fir needles and dirt from her skin.

His shoulders appeared very broad as he bent before her over the task. He wore his shirt open at the neck. “So,” he said. “Why were you in the loch?”

A thousand plausible stories came to her mind. She surprised herself with the truth. “I’ve missed you.

Missedseeing you.” There was no coldness in her body now. She was too aware of him.

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He raised his head to meet her gaze, his eyes silver in the moon’s light. “We’ve seen each other.”

“I mean to speak.”

His lips lifted into a smile. “Or to argue.”

“That, too.”

“So because you missed me, you jumped into frigid water?”

What else could she say? Her actions spoke for themselves. Silently, she pleaded with him to understand.

He leaned forward, his brows gathered in concern. “Constance, I understand. I’ve been taking nightly swims in the loch, too. I was on my way down here for my own dip, and for the same reason. I think of you constantly. It seems I must swim for miles before I can lay beside you at night, and even then I receive little rest. I can’t tell you the hours I watch you sleep. But we shouldn’t tempt fate. You have one path and I have another. I’m trying to do what is honorable—”

She cut him off with a kiss. She just leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his.

For a long second she held it, her blood pounding in her ears.

Gordon had gone still. He didn’t move…and she didn’t know how to take it further. She was foolish and awkward and there was no hope for them.

Feeling defeated, Constance broke the kiss—and at that moment, a hairbreadth from the moment she leaned away, his hands came down on her arms. He pulled her back to him, and this time it washis mouth that came over hers.

Fourteen

Yes,Constance wanted to cry out. This was what she’d hoped for. Her very soul opened to him.

Gordon stood, bringing her up with him. His arms slid around her waist. She grabbed hold of his shirt, not wanting to give him the opportunity to escape. Not now, not ever.

His kiss was hungry, almost angry. It was as if he had denied himself for too long. He held nothing back, and she was his oh-so-willing accomplice.

“Constance, we shouldn’t—” he began, but she shut him up with another kiss.

No more arguments. She knew what she wanted. From the moment she’d met this man, he had reshaped her life.He was what was important. He was what she valued.

The ferocity of his kiss robbed her of breath. Her knees no longer held her weight. She leaned into him for support, and when he swung her up in his arms, she offered no complaint.

Gordon moved back into the sheltering darkness of the pines. He laid her on the soft, thick bed of needles, stretching his long body along hers, his tartan a blanket beneath them. Constance didn’t care what he did as long as he kept kissing her.

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A wet nose sniffed close to them. Tad. Gordon lifted his head. “Go hunt,” he ordered the dog, who quickly obeyed.

Gordon returned to her. “Now where were we?” He found his place by kissing her neck.

His fingers tugged at the lacings of her brown dress, deftly loosening what she had so hastily tightened.

The bodice opened.

Gordon’s lips followed the line of her jaw, lingering at a sensitive point where her head and neck met.

Her body seemed to open to him with a will of its own.

Her breasts were full and tight, as if anxious for his touch. He brushed the nipples with his thumb and she wanted to sing with joy.

This was what she’d yearned for. This man.

She offered resistance when he settled his weight upon her. At some point he’d unfastened his breeches.

He was aroused, his body hard and firm. Pride filled her that she did this to him. He wantedher.

“You are so beautiful,” Gordon whispered against her ear.

“So are you,” she answered.

He laughed, the sound joyful and mirroring her own heart. His mouth covered hers. No, it plundered hers. He’d pushed her dress up. Her petticoats were damp but she didn’t feel the cold. His heat kept her warm.

Gordon’s hand touched her intimately.

Muscles deep within her clenched and Constance gasped at the pleasure. She’d wrapped her arms around him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, not ever wanting to let him go.

She was not naive. She understood what happened between a man and a woman. As his hardness pushed its way inside her, she braced for the pain. There was a momentary tightness, as sharp as a needle’s prick.

He held himself back, waiting for her to grow accustomed to the size and shape of him.

“I’ve hurt you,” he said, his voice tense, as if it took all his power to hold back. “It becomes better,” he promised, and lifting her hips with his hand, began moving inside her.

He was right.

Constance buried her face in his golden hair. His movements were slow at first, as if he was still being careful. She didn’t want him to do that. She wanted him to take her, to make her completely his.

She dug her heels in, curving her body to meet his, and Gordon let go. His thrusts went deeper with an increasing pace. His lips were by her ear and he kept repeating her name as if she alone drove him.

Constance vowed she’d never, never,ever let him stop. They were going to spend the rest of their days
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just like this—

Suddenly, she felt as if she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. For a glorious moment all her senses were centered on him. Her blood sang—and she couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

Her legs wrapped around his, bringing him as deep as she could, and still it wasn’t enough.

He thrust, once, twice, and then completion.

She could feel the life force leaving him. It filled her, a molten bonding of two souls.

Ever so slowly, the tension left his body. His weight felt good on her. She hugged her arms around his neck, cradling his head close. Smiling. She stroked his hair, drinking in the warm masculine scent of him mingled with the fragrance of pine needles.

“That wasn’t just a coupling,” she whispered. “It was a miracle. A complete and wondrous miracle.”

He lifted his head to look down at her. “We will pay for it—” he started.