The Imposter (22 page)

He growled low in
his throat in response to my touch.  “I want ye sae badly, Kate,” he whispered,
trailing his fingers lightly down my neck and across the tops of my breasts.

I lowered myself
down to the rug, pulling him down with me.  He settled himself on top of me,
intensifying our kiss, hungry with his need.  His hands found my breasts and he
kneaded them gently through the linen of his shirt, placing kisses up and down my
neck.  I groaned in pleasure and pressed my hips up meeting his arousal,
showing him my desire. 

“I want you too,
Devon,” I whispered, breathing heavily.  I was frightened by the burning that I
felt between my thighs, but I knew that I wanted more.  I wanted him to make
love to me.

Devon lowered his
head down and bit my nipple through the fabric of his shirt, which I was
completely naked beneath.

I squealed in
response to the teasing bite. What an amazing, new sensation!

 Devon looked up
at me, a devious smile on his face.

“No tonight,
lass,” he said playfully nipping at my breast again through the fabric.  He
rose up above me and looked down at my face, green eyes intense with desire. 
“We’ve both had a rather eventful day, and I want ye thinking clearly when ye
decide tae take me tae yer bed.”

“I am thinking
clearly,” I said firmly, and pressed my hips up against his pulsing groin.  I
knew that he wanted me, wanted me badly.  He wanted me as much as I wanted him
right now.  I reached my hand up behind his neck and pulled him down towards
me, and kissed him wantonly. 

He growled low and
deep in his throat and pulled away from me.  His breathing was ragged and I
could tell that he was hanging onto his last thread of composure to keep
himself from giving in to my invitation.

“I told ye on our
wedding night that I would ken when ye were ready tae become my wife in every
sense of the word, and Kate, I feel what it is between us growing, growing
stronger each day.  I’ll no let myself take ye tonight when yer no in a clear
state of mind.”

“I’m fine, Devon. 
Promise.” I said trying to assure him.  At this moment, there was nothing more
that I wanted than for him to quell the burning, the desire that I felt for him
deep within my belly.

“It kills me tae
tell ye no, but Kate, the answer is no tonight.  We’ve both had a traumatic
day, and I willna allow ye tae take this decision lightly,” he said, eyes
challenging me.  “I want ye more than anything that I’ve ever wanted in the
whole of my life, but I want the first time between us tae be perfect.  I’ll no
be persuaded otherwise, no matter what womanly charms ye try tae persuade me
with,” he said, palm still cupping my right breast, thumb teasing my nipple.

I pressed my hips
up against his erection one last time knowing that my “womanly charms” were
futile against his steadfast will.

“You have amazing
willpower, Husband,” I said, kissing his neck and whispering into his ear.

“I told ye already
that yer charms willna work tonight, and I’m a man of my word.  Although, I’d
love tae oblige ye,” he said, pressing back against me.  He leaned down and
kissed me solidly once more. Then he pulled himself away from me, standing up
slowly.  “If ye could turn away, sae as tae protect my modestly, I think that I
need to take a quick dip into that tub.  I’m counting on the water being
freezing cold now, as I have a present need tae cool off considerably.”

I turned away and
giggled, hearing the swish of his kilt hitting the flagstone floor and the
splash as he lowered himself into the now cold water of the bath tub.

“Whooo!” he
exclaimed, sinking into the water and leaning back against the side of the
tub.  “I think ye’ll be the death of me, woman,” he muttered.  “Now could ye
help me out by putting on yer dressing gown over my shirt?  Ye look sae damn
beautiful wearing my shirt that it’s about tae drive me mad.  Please?” he insisted,
gritting his teeth from the cold of the water and from the effort that it took
to quell his desire.

“Actually, I was
thinking that it is getting rather toasty in here, I thought that I might just
take this off to cool down a little,” I said teasingly, beginning to pull the
tails of his shirt up to expose the skin of my upper thighs. 

Devon groaned and
rolled his green eyes heavenward.  He was a tortured man.  He took a deep
breath and slid slowly down the side of the tub until he was completely submerged
beneath the cold water.  I knew that he couldn’t stay down there forever, so I
walked over to the tub and waited for him to resurface.

His head slowly
broke the surface of the water, and his green eyes locked with mine instantly. 

“As you wish, Husband,”
I said sweetly, bending over and planting a chaste kiss on his now chilly
lips.  As I bent over, the neckline of his linen shirt that was way too big for
me hung down, giving him a perfect view of my naked breasts and everything else
that was beneath the shirt.  I leaned over the tub, showing him what he was
missing out on for just a few seconds longer than was necessary before I turned
to go in search of my dressing gown.

He groaned again and
I heard a splash as he slipped beneath the surface of the chilly water once
more, blowing out bubbles of frustration underwater.

Chapter Twelve

An hour later,
covered from neck to ankles by my thick dressing gown, I stood behind Devon
with an enormous pair of deadly looking scissors in my hands.  The scissors
were leaden in my hand.  I gauged their weight as the firelight glinted from
their silvery blades.  As if standing outside my body, I willed myself to do
it.  I grasped a lock of chestnut hair between the fingers of my left hand,
noticing how pale my skin was in contrast to the dark hair.  With my right
hand, I raised the weight of the scissors so that the blades surrounded the
hair, poised and ready for me to make the first cut.  My fingers applied pressure
to the hinge of the scissors and they deftly sliced through the hair with an
almost silent whoosh.  I watched numbly as the length of hair fell lifeless to
the flagstones and again, I felt the unwelcome weight of the scissors’ cool
metal against my skin.

“It’s just hair
lass, ywe fashing about as if it were a funeral!” Devon’s voice broke my
pensive silence.  In his effort to make light of the situation, he realized
almost immediately that “funeral” may not have been the wisest choice of words,
and changed course.

“It will grow
back, ye ken,” he encouraged.

“You know how much
I love your hair.  I just – I just can’t.” I let the scissors go slack in my
hand.  Devon gathered me in his arms and settled me on his lap, trying his best
to soothe away my sudden onset of tears.  I knew that my tears were over much
more than just giving my husband a haircut.

“Ye ken that I
must go, Kate.”  The words fell silently between us.  He took my face between
his hands and wiped away my tears with his thumbs.  “Ye canna cry, lass.  Don’t
do that to me.  It breaks my heart tae see ye so.”

“And if you are
killed?” I questioned urgently, the scissors still heavy between my fingers.  I
silently wondered what I would do without him.  I couldn’t bear the thought of
my newfound safety and security being taken away, causing me to be alone
again.  Dread filled the pit of my stomach.  What if my father’s men came
inquiring about me while Devon was gone?  What if Katherine Berkshire’s family
stopped by for a visit?  The possibilities were disastrous and endless as they
terrorized my thoughts. 

“I’ll not die on ye
lass.  I promise.  I’ve been to battle many times and every time I’ve returned,
all in one piece.  I promise, now that I have someone to fight for, someone
waiting for me, there is nothing that can keep me from coming home tae ye,” he
willed me to believe him.

“And that, love,
is another reason why ye need to cut my hair.  If I’m to return to ye safe and
sound, I canna have hair in my face while I’m fighting.  If ye won’t do it
Kate, I’ll have to.  Might not look sae pretty, but…..”

I silently rose
from his lap and began cutting his hair, dark clumps of it were falling to the
ground as I worked with methodical proficiency.  I tried not to think about why
I was doing this, and focused on making the rough haircut look as best as it
might, given the circumstances.  I cut the hair at the base of his skull very
short, exposing new, baby white skin underneath the shortly cropped hair.  I
ran my fingers across the base of his head, enjoying the sturdy construction of
his body.

  It was hard to
accept the reality that people wanted to kill my husband, so strong and smart
and beautiful that he was.  And more than that, he was mine and I could not
accept the possibility that I might lose him so soon.

The newly cropped
hair felt foreign beneath my fingertips.  Devon caught my hand, as if he was
reading my thoughts.  He turned in the chair and whispered, “Thank ye, love.”

His honeyed words
unnerved me again.  When he called me “love” my knees wobbled.

Does he love
me?

Running a quick,
exploratory hand through his hair, his eyes met mine, trying to convince me
again that all would be well.  He rose from the chair and enveloped me in his
strong arms.  He gently guided my face to his bare chest, and rested his chin
atop my head and held me close.

“We leave at first light tomorrow,”
he whispered into my hair.

I dropped the
shears to the floor and wrapped my arms around his waist.  I looked up and my
blue eyes met his green.

“I can’t bear you
leaving,” I said, reaching up and tracing the line of his jaw, his stubble
scratchy under my fingers.  Fire grew deep in my belly as I took him in, he was
so masculine, so perfect, so Devon.  My fingers grazed across his mouth,
pausing on his lips.

He kissed my
fingertip, and then pulled my mouth towards his.

  My lips were
searching, desperate beneath his.  His tongue dueled with mine, hungry and
persistent.  I raked my fingernails across his bare chest, leaving marks that
would claim him as mine.

“Make love to me,”
I demanded, pressing my body against his, tormenting him.  I knew that he
wanted me badly, and I felt his erection pressed firmly against his leg.  He
groaned against me in response, muscles tense with desire.

His lips arched
over mine, possessing me, claiming me as his own.  His hands were rough as they
held me close to him, roving over my buttocks and across my breasts.  “No,” he
whispered, it came out as a growl as he forced my body away from his.

“Why not?” I said
insistently, hurt by his refusal, and feeling more and more pathetic for begging
him.  I could tell that he wanted me as much as I wanted him.  My stare was
intense as I examined his face, his breathing was ragged and his face was
flushed from my kisses. “I need this from you in case you don’t come home.  I
need this part of you to keep.”

“I said no, Kate,”
his eyes stern, challenging me not to argue with him as he raked a hand through
his hair.  I could tell that the sensation was a strange one.  He had always
raked his hand through his long hair when he was nervous, and now said hair was
gone.  “I want ye sae bad that I’m fit to explode with the wantin’ of ye, but
we can’t do this tonight.”

“Then give me a
good reason why we can’t,” I demanded, confused.  My body ached for him, and I
could tell that it took every thread of control that Devon had to keep himself
away from me.  He wanted me too.  I wanted to make love to him, to have
something to tie me to him forever just in case his didn’t make it back to me
alive.  I wanted to make love to him so that I didn’t miss the chance.

`”Do ye ken how
hard it is for me tae tell ye no?  Can ye no see how ye affect me?” he asked,
fingers skimming over the skin of my neck.  His eyes were hooded, and he looked
tortured.

“Then don’t fight
it anymore, Devon,” I said, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles.

Devon pulled me
close and spoke into my hair, “I plan to fight like hell to return to ye, and
if I ken that this is waiting for me when I return, there is nothing that will
keep me from coming home tae ye, Kate,” he said heatedly, eyes imploring me to
understand.  “I want ye sae bad that it’s about to kill me.”

I pushed away from
him suddenly so that I could look up at his face.

“Then don’t wait! 
What if you don’t come back?” I said, challenging him.  I did not like the
feeling of his rebuff, his flat refusal to consummate our marriage.  I wanted
to make love to this beautiful man who was mine.  I wanted to be completely
his.

.  He wrapped his
arms around my back, stroking me gently. 

“I’ll think of ye
day and night until I return to ye,” he vowed, still stroking my back.  “A chuisle
mo chroi,” he whispered against my hair as he pressed me against his body.  His
repressed desire for me was evident, throbbing against my belly.  I knew that
denying himself in this way must be painful.

“I’ll be waiting
for you,” I whispered into his chest, resigning myself to the fact that he was
not going to give in to his desire.  I pulled away slightly so that I could
look up into his green eyes.  “What did you say, what did that mean?”  I asked,
curious about the Gaelic phrase that he had said.

“A chuisle mo chroi,”
he said simply.  “In Gaelic, it means pulse of my heart.”

I kissed him again
gently, my heart melting. As I looked up at my husband, I knew that I was in
deep trouble.  There was no way that I could leave this man.

I have to tell
him.
 

My body thrummed
with adrenaline from his touch, and from the realization that I had to tell him
about my Father, about Katherine Berkshire.                                                                  
Will
he reject me for lying to him, for keeping these secrets?