The Laird's Forbidden Lady (18 page)

This wasn’t working. He wasn’t listening. She touched his arm and felt a tingle in her fingers. Saw his arm twitch in response. She forced herself to ignore the sparks dancing between them and softened her tone. ‘Ian, you don’t want this. Neither of us does. Just get me to Hawkhurst and I will plan some way out of this from there.’

He shook his head. ‘It is done.’

Done. Why did it sound like he’d been given a prison sentence? Because this was not what he wanted. No doubt he felt as trapped as she did. ‘Alice will say anything I ask her to say. Even if
Father reaches her first and she says she hasn’t seen me, she will recant. She could say she was afraid for me and had me tucked away in her house all the time.’

‘He would believe you walked there alone, no doubt?’

Did he have to be so practical? And was that hope she heard in his voice? The hollowness in her chest grew. ‘I am sure I can come up with a plausible explanation. A ride with a carter.’ She gave him a sweet smile and batted her eyelashes.

His brows went up. ‘Days and nights on the road alone. Your reputation will still be ruined.’ He shook his head. ‘You helped me, now I will help you. Our being wed is the only option.’

Chapter Twelve

I
an had never seen a more beautiful woman. Her heart-shaped face was female perfection, her creamy skin translucent in the candlelight. However, her expression was determined.

For a moment, when he’d first mentioned marriage, he’d thought she seemed pleased, but her arguments said otherwise. Disappointing, but not surprising. His only option was to make sure the bargain was properly sealed, irrefutable.

He would have to mount a seduction. His blood warmed. He caressed her small palm with his thumb and felt her tremor in response. Her ruby lips, so lush and so delicately bowed, parted in a small gasp.

She was a passionate woman and her response to him was all in his favour.

‘It doesn’t matter what you say, lass. In the eyes of the world, we are married.’

She bit that lovely, full bottom lip with small, even white teeth. He wanted to bite it, too. He leaned closer, watching her eyes widen and sensing the movement of her throat as she swallowed. She straightened her shoulders.

And that was what he found so damnably attractive. Yes, she was tiny and delicate, but she had an inner resilience. She met life head on. She was just the sort of woman a man would be proud to call wife and not just because of her beauty.

‘Come, now,’ he cajoled. ‘What do you say?’

She tilted her head, looking at him sideways, smiling just a little. ‘I say I don’t recognise this law of yours.’ The tone was teasing, as if she knew she was defeated, but was fighting a fine rearguard action he couldn’t help but admire, even as it infuriated.

It was as if the wild Scottish blood of his ancestors took over his body and his mind. He wanted to roar like a berserker and swing his claymore at his enemy—only there wasn’t one, not one that could be seen. The problem was their history and that he couldn’t change. His best weapons were logic and soft words, but he was having trouble keeping that in mind. ‘You would prefer the wedding night wait until a minister can be found?’ It wasn’t a fair question. She
was already flushed. Already breathing fast. But he wasn’t going to rush her. Tonight was too important.

She leaned back against the pillows, looking up, considering, gauging. ‘Are you saying you would marry me against my will?’

‘I did not take you for a fool, Lady Selina,’ he growled, his voice like gravel, his body rigid with the desire he fought to contain. ‘No man will have you after you ran away with me, especially since, without a word of protest, you played my wife. You have no choice but to wed me. Or I you.’

‘How romantic you make it sound.’

He winced. Clearly he did not have a courtier’s way with words, but the twinkle in her eye said she was playing with him. ‘We are in this together whether we wish it or not.’ He gazed at her lovely face, at the hint of the delectable body he’d held close and not touched. He lowered his voice, let his longing show on his face. ‘Why should we not make the best of it?’ He reached out and stroked his thumb across her cheekbone. ‘Don’t fight me on this, lass. We both know what we want.’

The shocking words tightened Selina’s core.

She fought the desire inside her and gave him a soulful pout and a doe-eyed glance and let a teasing smile play about her lips. ‘La, sir, you are indeed very forceful in your arguments,’ she
said in a whispery voice. ‘but I am not so sure we will suit.’

His eyes flashed fire. ‘Don’t do that.’

Forcing herself not to recoil, she raised a brow. ‘Do what?’

‘Simper at me as if I am some Bond Street beau and we are engaged in a drawing-room flirtation.’

‘Is it more than that?’

A muttered word in Gaelic ripped through the air. He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Of course it is. Your reputation is at stake.’ His Scottish brogue seemed to deepen, become more darkly delicious. More him, yet the words were painful to hear. An admission that it wouldn’t matter what woman had rescued him, he would feel honour bound to marry her.

So was he glad that it was she and not some other woman whom he found himself tied to?

‘Our families are enemies.’ She raised an arched brow as if they were discussing the latest fashion, instead of dire consequences. ‘Your father would turn in his grave.’

He shook his head. ‘I am not my father. Besides, a marriage between us can be a way to make peace between families. A way to move on from the past.’

Irrationally hurt by the cold of his reasoning, she closed her eyes briefly. It did make sense. As much, if not more sense, than an alliance with
Dunstan’s family. The Dunstans were old stock, but not particularly ambitious—one of the reasons she’d thought him such a good prospect.

Father might be brought to see the benefits of a marriage in time.

‘Wouldn’t a wife cramp your style? You would have to give up smuggling.’

His shoulders stiffened. ‘That is my decision to make.’

Not about to be guided by a wife, then. Most men weren’t, which was why she had been so careful in her choice of Dunstan.

Strangely, the thought of marriage to Ian made her heart pound hard—a much different reaction to the thought of wedding Dunstan. Dunstan was safe. Ian Gilvry represented all that was danger.

‘The idea of marriage to you scares me.’ The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

A brow flew up. ‘I see you as scared of nothing.’ His voice was dark with amusement. ‘You used to give my brothers as good as they gave.’

‘Until you took their side.’

He inhaled a deep breath. ‘And regretted it every day since.’ He leaned forwards and brushed his lips across hers. ‘You were such a brave little thing.’ He sighed. ‘And you never told your father. He would have crushed us with a word from you, yet you never complained.’

‘I’m no telltale.’ She frowned. ‘Which is why you should have trusted me enough to let me go home.’

‘That had nothing to do with trust.’

And everything to do with the safety of his clan. She sighed. It was too late to worry about what might have been. He was right. Whatever she did now, she would be ruined. She’d been discovered missing from her bed. Not even Alice could protect her from such a scandal.

‘What do you say, Selina?’ he murmured, eyeing her mouth like a hungry wolf. He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. ‘Do we consummate this legal marriage tonight? Or do we wait until we find a minister and I retreat to my cold hard bed on the floor?’

So, he’d thrown down the gauntlet. Likely a foolish thing to do with a woman as strong willed as this one, but he couldn’t see any other way to proceed. He just wished she’d trust him to decide what was right or wrong. She saw smuggling as criminal, instead of a way of feeding his people. She had to learn to trust his judgement, as his clan did.

He stroked the hair back from her face, willing her to understand that he had duties and responsibilities apart from pleasure.

Her skin warmed to his touch. Her eyelids
fluttered, her lips were parted, ripe and ready for him, and he took them carefully. Like last night, when her response had been hungry and full of fire. Only by dint of will had he left her as he had found her. An innocent.

But not tonight. Tonight he was a married man.

A pulse of heat tightened his groin and he almost groaned aloud with the rush of pleasure. He cupped her jaw and angled her head for better access to her honeyed kiss. Her hand released its death grip on her cloak and lay flat on his chest.

For one moment he thought she would push him away, a last-ditch effort to deny him, but her small palm caressed the contours of his chest, her touch feathery light, but searing.

Then her arms crept up around his neck, pulling him closer, melding against his chest where they touched, her heart beating wildly, her breathing coming fast and furious against his cheek. The vibration of a soft moan in the back of her throat sent a jolt of lust to his belly. Beneath the heavy wool of his kilt he hardened.

Grim satisfaction filled him and he tasted her whisky-flavoured tongue and the dark recesses of her sweet mouth.

He wooed her with his lips, his teeth and the hands gently stroking her chilly shoulders and stifled a groan of frustration.

Unless she accepted they were well and truly wed, he could do nothing about the lust gripping his body.

His mouth on her lips, his large warm hands on her shoulders plied her with unexpected gentleness. Sensual. Seductive. Heat trickled along her veins, searing her skin, leaving it tingling and burning. Her breasts, pressed against his chest, felt heavy and full. Her core ached and pulsed, begging for the pleasure he’d brought her before.

Her head swam at the battery of sensations rippling through her body.

Gentleness was not what she wanted. She didn’t want to be the china doll upon the shelf, the spun-glass ornament to be looked at, but not touched for fear of shattering.

His touch was delicious, achingly so, but it wasn’t enough for the woman inside, the tempestuous female she had spent years battling into submission. The one who, left to herself, took risks. That woman, who wanted this big rough Scotsman who had carried her off to the hills. And that woman seemed to have taken control of her body.

Exploring his shoulders through his shirt, she was very much aware of their magnificent breadth and power as the muscles bunched and rippled beneath her hands. She raked her fingers
through his silky-soft hair. Wound the strands around her fingers and tugged.

A hitch in his breathing. Surprise. A quickening of his heartbeat. More urgency in his kiss.

His tongue swept her mouth, then began to withdraw. What madness drove her, she wasn’t sure, but she captured it with her teeth. He stilled.

She released him.

He drew back, breaking the contact between them, except for his hand on her upper arms and hers sunk deep in his thick dark hair. His eyes glittered and his chest rose and fell with each harsh breath.

Ah. It seemed she’d gained his full attention. Her lips were tingling, her face glowing from contact with his scruff of beard and she flashed him a saucy smile.

‘So, Ian Gilvry,’ she breathed in the little-girl voice that had brought the men of the
ton
to their knees, ‘this is our wedding night.’

His gaze dropped to her mouth and then rose to meet her gaze. He smiled. ‘It is, indeed.’

He sounded relieved, as if he really did want this marriage. She let her fears, her suspicions, slide away.

Her heart raced as if she had run a great race. His large body pressed against her chest as he leaned over her, the circling of his fingers on her shoulder, his breath against her cheek. Her
chest felt so full of longing, she couldn’t breathe around it.

‘Well, the floor does look very hard and very cold. I could not let you spend such an uncomfortable night.’

His lips curved in a smile of pure seduction. His eyes lit up, gleaming like sapphires. Never had she seen him look so young or so boyish.

‘So this surrender is all for my sake, is it?’

She grinned. ‘Oh, I think it brings some benefits to me, too.’

He leaned in and bit her bottom lip. Pleasure raced through her body, settling deep in her core. She gasped at the wildness of it.

On a soft laugh, he thrust his tongue in her mouth commanding her to yield to him, pressing her down into the mattress as his body lined up with hers and his thigh pressed between hers. The weight of him melted her bones. She felt as if she could absorb him into her skin, as if they could fuse into one being. And all the while his lips teased hers and his tongue darted into her mouth, leading her on, encouraging her to follow.

Emboldened, she tried a hesitant lick. He captured her tongue with his teeth, then sucked.

Shivers of pleasure racked her from head to toe. Something deep inside her pulled tight. She gasped at the onslaught. He released her.

‘You taste so good I might just swallow you
whole,’ he murmured and kissed the tip of her nose.

She nipped at his lower lip. ‘Not if I eat you up first.’ He chuckled as if she’d made a grand jest. She bit his rough chin, his cheekbone, his earlobe when he turned away. A quick hiss of his breath tightened the knot low in her belly. Interesting. It wasn’t only what he did to her that felt good, but how he responded to what she did to him that made her body quicken and burn.

He captured her face in his hands, his thumbs gliding over her cheekbones, his gaze intense. ‘I swear, from this day forth, I will honour you as my wife all the days of my life, in sickness and in health until death do us part.’

A wedding vow. It made her heart clench painfully, a kind of aching joy as it seemed constricted within her chest. ‘As will I,’ she managed, despite the tightness in her throat.

Then he was kissing her again. Through the haze of the delicious sensations produced by his mouth on her lips, she was aware of the sharpening need between her thighs as his knee forced them wider. The pressure of his hip against her mons felt both wonderful and tantalising.