Temptation & Twilight (37 page)

She’d been so damn lush, her body welcoming him as though he had never been gone from her. He’d wanted to carry her to the bed, to stretch out on top of her and feel her curves beneath him, but he’d been mesmerized by the image in the mirror. How they looked together. He’d been enslaved at that moment, the second he slid inside her body. He’d thought of so many things, but most of all, he’d thought of what it would be like to take Elizabeth that way while she was heavy with child. And she hadn’t wanted that. Had accused
him
of not wanting it, when even now he thought of how satisfying it would be to give her his seed and create a life with her.

Banging his fist on the sill, he hung his head and tried to stuff the pain back down. Pain was a sign of weakness, or so his father had claimed. Never show pain, or fear.

And never tears. Iain, as far as he knew, had never once cried. To weep was weakness, and neither his mother nor his father had tolerated that failing. But he was close…

so damn close to letting his fear and frustrations get the better of him. Maybe Sheldon was right. If Elizabeth truly desired him, she would be his now….

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Activity in the hall told him the servants were waking for the day. He wondered if Elizabeth still slept. Had she thought of him last night? Did she relive that scene as he had? Bloody hell, he had barely a dozen strokes into her and was coming, leaving her dissatisfied. He’d planned to remedy that, knowing he could not hold back his climax. But she’d put a damper on his plans. She’d rejected him. Rejected his seed.

He’d never offered it to another before. He always wore French letters when he took a woman, and never relied on them, preferring to pull out at that peak. That moment with Elizabeth had been the first time in twelve damn years he’d been flesh to flesh inside someone, and it had felt so damn good. It had been only her he’d touched, skin to skin. And she’d denied him. But not only that, she’d denied herself, because Iain knew that she hadn’t thought that way before. She’d taken him every time he’d had her, pouring into her.

A knock sounded at the door, and he called, “Enter,” in a voice that was much too rough.

Charles, Elizabeth’s favourite footman, peered his head inside. “Snowed in,” he muttered. “Three-foot drifts by the mews. Took a dozen of us to dig it out to get food to the horses. I’m afraid, my lord, you’ll be stuck here until the thoroughfares are cleaned. And as it’s still blowing a white tempest out there, I doubt that will be for some time.”

“What a shame,” Iain said, “that I shall be forced to spend
days
here.”

His sarcasm was lost on the footman. “Nothing to do about it, my lord. I’ll send some of His Grace’s clothes to you. You’re about his size.”

“Thank you.”

Charles was about to close the door when Iain turned BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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from the window and said, “Be so good as to inform Lady Elizabeth that her presence at breakfast is requested.”

“At once, my lord.”

Days… Well, let’s see what good he could make of them.

“YOU’RE LATE.”

Elizabeth saw red when Iain spoke from the depths of the dining room. How dare he command her about like he was her…her
husband,
for heaven’s sake! “This is my home, and I will dine when I’m good and ready to dine.”

“You eat by nine, Elizabeth, every morning. It is nearly noon. You’re simply avoiding me.” How the blazes did he know that about her? He wasn’t around for breakfast normally, and she couldn’t imagine that he would recall such a thing from the past. No, he was merely goading her.

Carefully, she took her seat and settled her napkin on her lap. “Charles, I’ll have—”

“Charles has been dismissed for now. I’ll see to your plate. Although I should think that by now the eggs are cold.”

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“No, testament to my current mood, I should suspect.” The scents of bacon and sausages and toast floated over to her. Iain set a plate in front of her. She heard another plate being placed to the right, followed by the squeaking of a chair as Iain sank into it.

“I’ve poured your tea. The handle is to the left.”

“Thank you. I had no idea that you—”

“I’ve watched you for years, Elizabeth. I know how you accept your teacup, the way your plate should be ordered, with meat to the left, potatoes to the right and your vegetable to the bottom. I know you prefer red wine, BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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and you have a sweet tooth. I also know that you would rather die by means of torture than to show any outward weakness.”

“How well you know me.”

“Did you doubt it?” he asked. “Did you think I would not know you as intimately as I know myself?” She glanced away. “I assumed—”

“I know what you thought of me. What you still think of me.”

Better to steer away from this conversation, which could very easily turn into a discussion of what had happened between them last night. For herself, Elizabeth had decided to deem the entire interlude a grave error in judgement, and forget about the entire matter.

“I understand the weather has made a turn for the worse.”

If he was frustrated by the change in the conversation, he hid it well. “It has. I shall have to intrude upon your hospitality for a bit longer, I’m afraid.” He spat the word
hospitality
out as though it were poison. Obviously, their politely strained conversation was at an end.

“Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.”

“At home, shall I?” he growled, and she heard the tines of his fork hitting the china plate.

“Yes, of course. Do as you would in your own home.

Although in this weather I doubt you will be able to bring your ladies by.”

Silverware clattered to the table and Elizabeth felt some satisfaction for the dig.

“Is that what you think I do all day? Fornicate?”

“I don’t really think upon it,” she murmured as she took a small bite of her toast. “What else do you do besides chase skirts?”

“My days are filled with many activities, mostly BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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Brethren affairs and obligations to my clan and the Sinclair lands. There are many days and nights when I’ve been too damn busy to even think of fornicating.”

“Well, that is very edifying.”

“What do you do all damn day? Think of new ways to flagellate me?”

“Of course not. I barely think of you at all.” This was becoming very mean-spirited, she realized.

“What a little liar you are.”

“I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

“I can take whatever you dish out, Beth,” he murmured. “I can take the pain, the way your words are intended to strip me of my flesh. I won’t run and hide from you. I won’t cower. Let us discuss the matter right now.”

“I wasn’t aware there was anything to discuss,” she sniffed. “And let go of my wrist. It isn’t seemly.”

“It’s much more seemly than what happened upstairs last evening, don’t you think? Did you touch yourself, Beth, after I left? Did you complete what you would not allow me to do?”

“Stop this at once!”

He leaned in, pulled her by the wrist so that she came very close to him as he whispered, “I would have brought you off so hard you would have screamed, would have begged for it—for more of it.”

“I no longer have an appetite. Excuse me.” He released her, but followed her out of the dining room, stalking her. He was so cruel, so…right. And she hated him for it. Despised that he knew that much about her. Fumbling her way along the halls, she was keenly aware that he was behind her, watching her struggle to get her bearings. He didn’t help her, just stalked her like a wolf waiting to pounce on injured prey.

Finally, she found the door to the salon and opened it, BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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quickly shutting it before he could enter. Letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, she collapsed against the wood.

“I’ll let you go this time,” he said from the other side of the door. “But you can’t avoid me forever, Beth. We will have this conversation. You will hear what I have to say.”

“Go away, Iain.”

“Go away?” he said. “You ask the impossible, Beth, for I am so completely entwined with you that it’s impossible for me to separate myself. If you would only rest for a moment, and not try to run from me, you would see that the same is true for you. Just as water always flows to the ocean, we’re trying to make our way back to each other.”

“I won’t go back to you,” she whispered to herself, but he heard her.

“I’m coming for you, Beth. And there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

AND THEY SAID SCOTS were a stubborn lot! He had never met a more stubborn woman in all his life. She’d avoided him at luncheon, and then at dinner. It was nearing midnight and still no sign of her. Outside, the blizzard had begun to die down, but the wind still howled, causing the snow on the ground to drift. He was anxious that the brunt of the storm was over and he had wasted a day with Elizabeth. He would likely be gone on the morrow, and his plans to make Elizabeth his had gone up in a puff of smoke.

He’d underestimated her stubbornness, her resolve. Or perhaps, a voice inside him said, he had underestimated how much he had hurt her when he’d left her.

Forgiveness was a complicated ideation. So was love.

He wanted both from her, but perhaps she would never be ready to give him either. There could not be love without BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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forgiveness. And no forgiveness without an explanation from him. He feared that. It terrified him, knowing he had to give her full disclosure for his actions. He was shamed by them. Afraid that after she heard his reason, forgiveness would be out of the question.

He was a damn coward, unable to face up to his past.

To the man he had been. No, he hadn’t really been a man then. He’d been a spoiled, selfish fool.

Gazing about the salon, he tried to think of a way to make it right. To make it so that Elizabeth could trust him, would hear him out. He was not the man he’d once been. He’d changed, and would change more, too, if she would only give him a chance. There needed to be some sort of bridge between them, an olive branch that would help to pave the way to forgiveness. He had to ensure that the connection they had once shared flickered back to life, binding them, before he could begin discussing the reasons why he had failed her.

Sinjin’s diary caught his eye, and he lifted it up from the table, held it in his hand and studied the writing within. There was a curse on the houses of York and Sinclair. No man and woman from those houses could ever fall in love, else that love was fated to die, to cause immense pain and unrequited longing. The curse had proved true for Sinjin and his lady. They had died apart, though their hearts were as one.

Iain could hardly believe what he was thinking, but he rose from his chair and carried the diary in his hand, searching for Elizabeth.

He found her in her room, sitting on the window box.

She was dressed in a night rail and wrapper, and he found his gaze darting to the dressing-table chair he had occupied last night. Images of Elizabeth giving herself to BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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him so completely gave him the courage to come deeper into the room.

“In your diary, does it mention a curse?” he asked.

“No, it does not. But I have heard of one.”

“Do you think it’s true, this curse between our houses?”

He sat on the opposite end of the box, facing her. She lifted her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees, hiding herself from him. A piece of his soul was chipped away. He’d done irreparable damage to her. He saw it in her eyes.

“Do you believe that no man or woman from the houses of York and Sinclair can fall in love?” She shrugged, cast her gaze to the window, avoiding him. “I don’t know. It seems that way, doesn’t it? We certainly have been made miserable by our lust and the way we gave in to it.”

“Is it only lust, Elizabeth?” he asked. “Do you not think there was more to what we shared?”

“Don’t speak of it, Iain,” she begged him. “Please don’t.”

“All right. Perhaps, then, I should honour my word and help you discover the secret about the Veiled Lady, shouldn’t I?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s done now. There’s no need.”

“Have you figured out who she was, then?”

“No. But there is little purpose in the matter.”

“I told you I could help you discover who she was.

I’ve never read much about Sinjin,” he murmured, ignoring her protest. “I found the diary and brought it up.

I thought I might read it.”

“You may.”

“Here,” he said. “Now. To you.” BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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She swallowed hard, and he saw the faint dusting of pink on her cheeks. This was her Achilles’ heel. Through this diary she could live through another’s words and actions. She didn’t have to put herself out there, expose herself. It was safe to be seduced by a diary—much safer than allowing Iain in. He saw that now. Knew the diary was the only way he could spend time with her. He had what she needed: sight.

Clearing his throat, he began.

“‘Second July, 1147,

“‘I have seen her. Even with the strength of my faith and my Templar devotion I find it unbearable to resist her exotic charms and the enchanting way she has of looking into my eyes and sneaking into my thoughts.
One kiss,
I thought as I allowed myself to walk to her—the Veiled Lady, they call her.