In the Highlander's Bed (6 page)

He chose the latter—excepthe hadn’t anticipated he would have a reaction to this kiss.

Especially when Constance leaned into him, as if needing him for support, her breasts flattening against his chest. His hands had no choice but to come down to her waist and pull her closer.

Nor was he satisfied with pressing their mouths together.

Since they were going through the exercise, the very least he could do was show this young woman how to kiss. He ran his tongue along the line of her pressed lips. The sensation tickled and her lips parted.

Gordon took full control. He breathed her, tasted her, enjoyed her.

His men had gone silent. It crossed Gordon’s mind that they probably wondered what had come over him. A part of him wondered, too. He only meant to subdue her.

But another part of him, thehard part, understood his motive too well. It was more than just bending her to his will. He’d wanted to know how she’d feel against him.

She “fit.”

In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever met a woman who “fit” him so well.

And yet, he could not forget she was one of the enemy. He’d never let himself do that. He was the last leader for the Cause and he would not fail…but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a man, and every “man” fiber in him yearned to take Constance Cameron.

Here was the edge of desire. One step more and they’d be lost.

But Gordon knew better than to take that step. He held both her hands in his left while his mouth explored hers. Her initial surprise was followed by a searching exploration. Constance Cameron had a bright, inquisitive mind. He could tell she had not been kissed often, but she was a quick learner.

However, someone should have warned her that the curious always paid a price. She paid her price now when he broke off the kiss and stepped away to reveal that he’d tied her hands together with the rope.

His men noticed before her kissed-muddled brain could grasp what had happened. They burst into cheers so loud and so raucous, Gordon almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

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Constance Cameron had proven herself to be more of a trial than he’d anticipated—and he didn’t have time for trials. The number of his followers was dwindling daily. People were losing faith that they could win their Cause. He needed the sword, and he wasn’t about to let one headstrong young woman stand in his way.

He was just thankful it was dark enough for Thomas and the others not to notice how tight his breeches were. He was ramming hard.

“You have no one to blame for this but yourself,” he said. “You should have been a more willing captive.”

“You tricked me!” she accused.

“Ikissed you,” he clarified. “There was no trick in that.” He leaned closer to say, “But it is a lusty temperament you have, Miss Constance Cameron. There’s a fire in you.”

He anticipated another attack, expected her to attempt to kick him. The moonlight caught the glimmer of tears. She looked away, blinking, not wanting him to notice. But he had, and he felt like a complete scoundrel. He’d taken advantage of her innocence. He used her inexperience to his own purpose. He’d accomplished what he’d wanted…but at what price? He’d not want some other man to use his sister this way.

Then again, one already had.

He hardened his heart. “Mount up,” he ordered the lads.

Thomas roared his delight. “You appear the one ready to mount up,” he said, and Robbie and Brian laughed.

Apparently, the tightness in his breeches had not gone unnoticed.

Gordon shot a look at Miss Cameron. Her head was bowed, her lips pressed together tightly. Her defiance was irritating, but he found he preferred it over this quiet submission. “Fetch our horses,” he told Brian. Tempest and Robbie’s horse had stopped a few yards away and were grazing. “And the rest of you mind your manners.”

“We’re just following orders, Gordon,” Thomas said, his grin still ear-to-ear. “I’m just relieved to see your pecker still works. We’d all been thinking it had dropped off from disuse a long time ago.”

The crudity of the remark, as if Constance wasn’t present, irritated Gordon. “I have other matters on my mind right now,” he said pointedly.

The giant snorted his response. “God made man able to do two things at once—one is to exercise his pecker, and the other is to do everything else while thinking about exercising his pecker. Isn’t that right, lads?”

“Enough,” Gordon said before Robbie and Brian could respond. “This gentlewoman is our guest. We don’t want her returning to London with stories about what savages we are. Mount up and save your clever remarks for the English.”

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Thomas laughed and did as told. Constance was still looking away. The moon’s light caught the path of one tear that had escaped down her cheek. Gordon realized she stared in the direction of Edinburgh. He refused to feel guilty.

Instead, he climbed into his own saddle. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he reached down, grabbed her by her waist, and pulled her up in the saddle in front of him.

She arched her back, ready to fight.

“Have done, lass,” he said. Her wiggling wasn’t makinganything easier. “No matter what you do, I shall come after you. You aremine . At least until Colster hands over the sword. A wise woman would conserve her strength.” He couldn’t help a tight smile as he added, “The better to tear me apart limb from limb later.”

Her struggle stopped. The tear was gone now, dried by the wind. “This isn’t a game, is it?” she said quietly.

“Who said it was?” His conscience made him add, “Don’t pay attention to all that Thomas says. You have my word that you will be treated well, provided you do as I bid.”

Her jaw tightened. She shifted her weight to make herself more comfortable, something that was awkward to do with her tied wrists. The others had already gone on. Gordon started to urge Tempest forward when she said, “That was my first kiss.”

He sat back, not knowing what to say.

“A first kiss should mean something,” she whispered, not looking at him.

Dear God, had he ever been that innocent?He couldn’t remember.

“Kisses rarely do,” he answered, and kicking his horse forward, he set off for Ben Dunmore, the mountain camp where his clan waited.

Constance sat on the saddle’s pommel. The only way she could keep her balance and be comfortable was to sit on his thighs, her shoulder against his chest. The hardness of his body surrounded her—and she hated him for it.

Galloping through the night was madness, but gallop they did. She feared that his horse would stumble, fall, and they’d break both their necks, but she wasn’t certain she wouldn’t welcome that fate now.

She couldn’t believe she’d let his kiss distract her. She should have fought harder. Fighting didn’t cost her anything, whereas that kiss had cost her pride…

Until that moment the only kissing she’d done was with her pillow. There had also been a moment at Madame Lavaliere’s where several of the girls were demonstrating on the back of their hands and she’d secretly tried it herself. If she ever returned to the academy, she’d tell the girls that the feeling of a man’s mouth was completely different than the back of one’s hand.

A mouth moved. It took. Itclaimed. A good kiss, a powerful one, drew you to its will.

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Mr. Lachlan’s kiss had mastered her…and Constance sensed it wasn’t just the kiss. It washim.

Sitting in the haven of his strong arms, surrounded by the heat of his body and that clean, almost spicy male scent that was all his, she knew her wisest course would be to put space between them as quickly as possible.

In fact, she was going to stop referring to him with a courtesy title. He was Lachlan to her from now on.

Lachlan the Rebel, the Insufferable, the Annoying.

Kidnapping was nothing compared to the unnamed threat she sensed from him. Her body responded to him in ways her brain could not control, and if she wasn’t careful, he could crush her pride.

Fiercely, she vowed, “I will not be a docile captive.”

His lips were close to her ear as he answered, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Constance. I don’t want to like you.”

He liked her?It wasn’t the response she’d expected.

“You don’t know me,” she challenged. “If you did, you’d know I don’t make idle threats…orgive up.”

There was a moment of silence, as if he were mulling her words. He brought his horse down to a walk, obviously feeling the animal needed a rest. The men behind grunted their approval. They lagged behind, seemingly lacking Gordon Lachlan’s determination.

“I saw the knife you were carrying,” he said to her. “You handled it well, lass. I imagine if you’d had a mind to, you could have carved out my liver.”

“I had a mind to.”

He shook his head. “You are no murderess.”

No, she wasn’t. However, with one shove of her shoulder she could unseat him from his horse as she had done with Robbie.

She shoved.

He didn’t move.

Instead, his arm came around her waist. He jerked her back against his chest. His thighs could have been formed from steel. “I’m no fool, girl, and you’d be unwise to believe so. If you unseat me, we fall together. Is your defiance worth breaking your neck?”

“My freedom is,” she answered, although she wondered how she found the courage. This man threatened her more than any she’d met before. She couldn’t control him. He played by his own rules.

“Iknow about wanting freedom,” he answered. “You’ll have yours once Colster pays the ransom.”

The man was so single-minded, he was irritating. “I told you there is no reason for him to pay a ransom.

He doesn’t know me. We aren’t even truly related.”

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“Your sister is married to his brother. You are one of his. He’s the duke. He’ll take care of his own.

He’ll pay my price.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

There was a beat of silence. Soberly, he said, “You’d best hope he does.”

For the second time in her life Constance was speechless. The first time had been when he’d kissed her.

Who was this man?And why was he ruining her life?

She’d grown up on the frontier. She’d learned how to judge a man quickly. Gordon Lachlan wasn’t one to speak carelessly.

Behind them the others laughed and talked. They were in good spirits. They almost seemed a completely separate party of riders, one out for a lark. It wasn’t to Lachlan…and she knew then how to pay him in kind for disrupting her life.

“They don’t share your passion,” she said.

He all but flinched. She’d discovered his weakness.

“They care,” he said, an edge to his voice that his soft burr could not hide. “But a man likes to talk to keep awake when he’s riding hard.”

Constance was tempted to call him a liar. Fortunately, common sense intruded. Baiting him would give her satisfaction but not what she wanted.

Inspiration struck. “What if Ipaid for my freedom?” There had to be a way for her to find money. She’d lost everything she had during the escape, but once she reached the valley, she might be able to borrow some. She’d heard that people borrowed money for all sorts of things.

Or, once she was safely home, she could write and petition Charlotte for the money. “You could craft another sword out of the money and no one would be the wiser.”

He glanced at her as if she’d grown horns out of her head. “I wouldn’t do that. ’Twould be dishonest.”

“Oh, yes,” Constance commiserated, “kidnapping is far more honest.”

The moonlight caught the flash of anger in his eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand. The power of that sword goes back a century and more. It’s the clan’s pride. Colster doesn’t deserve it.We are its rightful owners. He must return it.”

“And then?”

“And then I’ll use it to chase the English into hell.”

The vehemence in his voice made her uneasy. The men riding behind them had fallen quiet, not because they were listening but because they were tired…just as she was. The only one of their number who seemed indefatigable was Gordon Lachlan. He was driven.

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“There are thousands and thousands of English on this island,” she said soberly.

“I know.”

“You can’t fight them all. It’s a losing cause.”

“I’ll do what I must.”

He didn’t prevaricate. She respected that. He believed that deeply in his purpose.

The moonlight made the planes of his face look hard. There was a fire in this man. She’d seen it before, but not here. In America.

“Do you have an army?” she asked.

“My clansmen drill now at our camp. There are others who yearn for justice but they don’t believe we can succeed. The Sword of the MacKenna will give them a voice. Then, they will join us.”

She shook her head. “I know something about war. I’ve seen Indian battles and witnessed how ruthless men can be when the blood lust is upon them.” She didn’t want to think of Gordon Lachlan that way. He was her kidnapper, he’d tricked her, but there was something humane and honorable about him, too.

He seemed to read her mind. “Don’t judge me harshly, Miss Constance,” he said. “I have cause for my actions. The English allow a nasty habit to occur here, one they wouldn’t allow in their own country. It’s called the Clearances. Landowners have discovered the profit in sheep and want grazing pastures. These men who were once chieftains of their clans have gone English and shoved aside their responsibilities to the crofters and yeoman who have given them allegiance for centuries, all for the sake of money. They no longer accept their responsibilities to their people. They are forcing them from their homes, often with no more than the clothes on their backs, and using the land for sheep. It’s not right. It’s not the way things are done in Scotland. People should mean more than beasts.”