The Irresistible Mac Rae Page 23

  “Tell me.” He spread his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back gently before kissing her throat.

  Her feet brushed up and down on his calves. “I feel too much,” she admitted.

  “Tell me.”

  “I want you deeper,” she said. “But then to leave me.” A contradiction of feelings. As he moved out of her again, she gripped his arms tightly. “And come back quickly.”

  He entered her again.

  “Deeper.”

  He moved again, a slow, relentless rhythm that had her breath coming sharp in her chest. She’d never felt this way before, as if she were glowing from within like an ember. Her feet felt suddenly warm and tingly, and her hands splayed and lost their ability to grip. Every sensation was focused on where they joined, as if nothing else in the world was more important than this.

  Nothing was.

  Riona wanted to laugh and weep at the same time. A dozen emotions, a hundred thoughts cascaded through her heart and mind, and yet none of them was coherent.

  Only James.

  Her mind seemed to expand, even as her body contracted around him. He was hard and huge and invasive, yet at the same time she gloried in his act of possession. She felt herself being stretched even further to accommodate him, but she only pulled him closer, wanting James to experience that same joy she’d felt earlier.

  No wonder women were counseled against sin. It blinded her of reason, stripped her of concerns. All she wanted was him.

  Gently raking his arms with her nails, she arched her hips, meeting his downward thrusts with a surprising impatience. Again, and her vision darkened. Once more, to his groan. Suddenly, she was there again. Blinded and deafened, inert as the feeling surged through her, then wild as it crested.

  Long moments later, he rolled with her, placing her across his chest. She laid her cheek against his skin. Her arms fell, stretched out on either side of them. She was exhausted, beyond tired.

  She felt James’s kiss to her throat, made an inarticulate sound to acknowledge the curve of his lips against her skin.

  Placing her hand flat against his chest, she felt the rapid beat of his heart. Hers, too, was racing.

  Her lips curved beneath his when he kissed her. “What amuses you, Riona?” he asked a moment later.

  “I am not amused,” she said slowly, her smile not abating. “Merely happy.”

  “Happy is not a word to be coupled with merely. Joyously, perhaps. Or completely. But never merely.”

  In a tender benediction of touch, she smoothed her fingertips over his face, touching his cheek, his jaw, his lips. He took her hand, kissing her knuckles before entwining his fingers with hers.

  Thank you. A prayer of thanksgiving for the moment, the day, and the man.

  James sat up, then stood, granting her an unspoken wish. There he was, crafted of muscle and bone and sinew, naked for her eyes.

  His buttocks were perfectly formed, his hips narrow, his thighs strong and fit with muscle. But then he turned to face her in the act of reaching for his clothing, revealing even more wonders.

  Her eyes widened as she took in each separate part of his body, one of which was growing.

  Riona opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of any words to say. What should she do? Apologize for her curiosity? Or her lack of maidenly reserve? Or for being so fascinated that she couldn’t look away?

  A perfect man, she thought. A creature God might have formed at night, then made the sun for the sole purpose of illuminating His work.

  In that instant their gazes locked. She should have been the first to look away, transfixed by shyness, but she didn’t feel as embarrassed as spellbound.

  Suddenly, there was a tension in the air, an awareness that was elemental, like the progression of growing things from seed to harvest. Ordained by God and nature, immutable and as fixed as the seasons.

  “He shouldn’t have you,” he said roughly.

  “But he does.”

  He held out his hand to her. “Come with me, instead.”

  “Where?” she asked, taking his hand and slowly standing.

  They stood, brazen and naked and bared for all the world to see. Face to face, with nothing hidden. Not flesh or wishes or wants.

  “Anywhere.”

  The decision was not only hers to make. If it had been, she would never have chosen to marry Harold in the first place.

  “I cannot.”

  He studied her for a few moments, as if to test the resolve of her words. Finally, he turned and began to dress, each garment hiding his body from her gaze.

  She couldn’t take back her actions. Nor, given the choice, would she. Until the day she died, Riona knew that she would remember this afternoon.

  He fastened his shirt with deliberation, as if knowing her sudden reluctance to see him clothed. What would he say to hear her thoughts?

  Please, come back and let me reach out and touch you, smooth my hands over your skin to prove that my eyes do not lie.

  She’d touched upon magic of her own, she suspected. Something she now knew as truth. His touch brought her delight, but so did the sight of him.

  They returned to the house separately, Riona going first, followed by James. He stood and watched her circle the Witch’s Well, wondering why he was not suffused with guilt. All his life he’d been constrained by decency, wrapped in it so tightly that it felt like swaddling. In one afternoon, he’d ignored all the tenets in which he’d believed.

  Yet he’d never felt so complete, so whole.

  She amused him and delighted him. He’d been disconcerted at her frank inspection of him. She’d not looked away, but studied each portion of his anatomy as if to gauge his height, build, and shape.

  An interesting phenomenon, being viewed with such intensity. He’d never before had the experience. Had he proven worthy?

  Intimacy had come to them, and it seemed natural and right.

  Chapter 24

  E dinburgh sat huddled at the bottom of Castle Rock, two miles from the Firth of Forth, on land that looked as if it had been scraped and clawed by some mythological creature. The high, dark buildings gave the city a brooding air, and the narrow streets added to the atmosphere. Edinburgh was, historically, a place of intrigue, where crowns had been bargained or lost, and a country plotted against its neighbor to the south.

  The traffic, carriages and pedestrians alike, seemed intent on their destinations, oblivious to the noise and others attempting to make their way through the narrow streets and around the construction.

  Strangely enough, James felt unused to the bustle of Edinburgh. Even though he had seen the world and most of its major cities, the peace and tranquility of Ayleshire had affected him more than he thought. Now he heard the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets and they sounded too loud. The cries of the hawkers, the street merchants, the market vendors all seemed equally cacophonous.

  It took him some time to find his way to McDougal’s lodgings, the address obtained from one of the man’s letters to Riona, procured for James by a smiling Abigail. Then on to the gaming hall where McDougal evidently spent a great deal of his time. Money was the universal source of information, and by the time James found the man later that evening, he knew a great deal about Riona’s betrothed.

  Harold was on the cusp of society, a once respectable young man who had taken to bad habits, and owed some very powerful people. A prosperous marriage was just what he needed to save him.

  As the captain of a ship, James had experience in judging men. It wasn’t a difficult task to ascertain exactly what type of individual stood before him in one of Edinburgh’s more notorious gaming halls.

  Harold McDougal did not, evidently, think personal appearance mattered much, else he would have changed his shirt long before now. There were crumbs on his lapel from where he’d eaten, and a yellowish stain on his pocket that James took to be mustard. No doubt he’d considered himself too busy to leave his cards.

  His eyes were red rimmed, and a s
tubble of beard attested to the length of this visit. But what disturbed James the most was the glittery look in the other man’s eyes, as if McDougal were reckless and euphoric with it.

  Not a man in control of his baser needs. But, then, James wasn’t exactly in the position to lecture another.

  “Do I have the honor of addressing Harold McDougal?” James asked, forcing himself to be civil.

  In truth, he was enraged by the man standing in front of him. He had never before felt such loathing for another human being. He wanted to plant his fist into the other man’s considerable nose. Or wipe the smirk from his thin lips. Something atavistic and not entirely civilized made him want to clamp his hands on the back of the man’s jacket and send him flying through the doorway.

  Yet the man had done nothing to him. His only sin, if one could call it that, was to become engaged to be married to Riona McKinsey.

  James decided that it was reason enough for anger.

  “You do,” the other man replied, surveying him. “You have a message from my intended?”

  It hadn’t been an easy task getting McDougal away from the card table, but James had done so with the pretense of being a messenger for Riona. Only reluctantly had McDougal left his cards, but he’d taken the precaution of scooping up his winnings and putting them into his pocket before following him.

  “Well?” Harold snapped his fingers. “I was on a winning streak, man. Out with it.”

  “How much do you want to walk away from this marriage?” James asked bluntly.

  The other man’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you to ask such a question, sir?”

  “A friend,” he responded tightly. “How much?” Even after buying the abbey land, he’d have enough money left to ransom Riona from a foolish marriage.

  “Name your price, and I’ll pay it.”

  “Did Riona send you? You can go back to her and tell her that it’s no use. The marriage will still occur.”

  James named an amount that had the man’s eyes widening. “Is that enough? All I ask is that you go to England for a few months, or find another destination equally as distant.”

  “She’s prepared to handle the scandal of being rejected, is she?” McDougal’s smile altered in character, turning sly. “If she’s that brave, then she ought to pay for it.”

  “Name your price.”

  “Tyemorn Manor,” Harold said easily. “Promise me that and she’s yours.”

  “I can’t do that. But name an amount and I’ll pay it.”

  “Why should I settle for just money? When her mother dies, she and her sister will own a prosperous holding. Who’s to know how much more valuable Tyemorn Manor will become in the intervening years? The farm is an investment. In my future.”

  “Then you refuse?”

  “I find the prospect of marrying Riona quite enjoyable. All that money, plus a winsome wife.”

  “Why would she agree to marry you at all?” James asked, the contempt in his voice audible.

  Harold laughed. “She nearly didn’t. Stubborn chit. But in the end, she decided that it was best if the world didn’t know about her loose behavior.” He glanced longingly toward the card game. “As for why, I’m not at all surprised that you don’t know. We took great pains to keep it quiet. She’s a passionate little number, my Riona. The sooner she’s married, the sooner tamed. That’s why we’re going to be married. To save her reputation.”

  The man fell like a marble statue.

  James rubbed his knuckles, thinking that the other man’s jaw was surprisingly hard. Staring down at McDougal, he decided that any pain he felt was worth it.

  “She’s got herself a protector, then, does she?” Harold gripped his jaw and winced. “Well, soon enough she’ll have herself a husband.”

  James turned on his heel and left the room before he struck the man again.

  “James has gone where?” Riona said, staring at Rory.

  “Edinburgh,” he repeated, sitting up in his bed. “He came and said goodbye before he left. Didn’t he say anything to you?”

  She shook her head.

  “He said he’d be away for a few days, no longer.”

  “Why?”

  “He didn’t tell me that, miss,” Rory said, and his tone indicated that she shouldn’t have asked, either. “Could you say a word to your mother, miss? She’s determined that I’ll stay abed, but I truly feel well enough to leave it.”

  “She’s only doing it for your good.”

  He stared down at his bandaged leg. The yellow salve Susanna had used was seeping through the linen. “I’ve had worse from the cook’s stove aboard ship, miss. Truly.”

  “Very well,” she said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She left his room, the chamber that used to belong to Mrs. Parker. It was easier for her mother to tend to Rory if she didn’t have to climb so many stairs during the day.

  Why was James in Edinburgh? Why hadn’t he told her he was going?

  She didn’t own him. They weren’t bound by their illicit act, however much she wished it so.

  She had never been wanton, despite her behavior in Edinburgh. But she couldn’t say that now. She had been guilty of the most grievous sin, disobeying the teachings of a lifetime.

  And she’d do it again.

  For the touch of him. For the joy of lying with him.

  Now she knew why kisses were forbidden. They opened the door to other more banned acts. Feelings and sensations she had never imagined a few days ago.

  Could someone tell? By looking at her, could they discern her wickedness? Or know that she felt different inside?

  Riona entered her room, walking to the bureau, tilting the mirror atop it until she could see herself.

  She looked different, but would everyone else see the change?

  Her hair was tousled as it normally was, the tight coronet having come half undone once again. Her eyes looked wider than they had yesterday and more knowledgeable.

  Her gaze traveled from her neck to her chest as she stood at an angle and surveyed herself. Had James thought her shoulders too round or too squared? Her arms too muscled or long? What about her waist? And her breasts? Too large, perhaps? Too small?

  Although she’d garnered her share of looks in Inverness and Edinburgh, and had occasionally summoned forth a smile and nod from a male passerby, she wasn’t the type of woman who made a man stop and stare wordlessly after her. Or catch his eye as a carriage passed, a slow, dawning smile his delayed reaction.

  Suddenly, however, she wanted to be beautiful.

  For him. For a man she couldn’t have.

  A bright, amusing temperament could make a man forget a woman’s plain looks. Mrs. Parker’s edict.

  Even there she had her doubts. She didn’t have Iseabal’s appreciable talents. Nor did she have as compassionate and gentle a nature as Maureen.

  She was curious, had a mind that questioned, and possessed courage to some degree. Her family was important to her, as well as her friends. Other than that? She believed in hope, optimism, and the persistence of possibilities.

  Why was she tallying all her assets and liabilities with such vigor? Loving James made her feel vulnerable. Almost weak.

  She hugged herself as she walked slowly to the kitchen in search of Susanna. She didn’t see the hall she traveled, the staircase she descended, or the various rooms into which she peered. They were nothing but a white backdrop to her thoughts and memories.

  How could she feel as if she’d done wrong? Intellectually, perhaps, she agreed that her behavior was foolish. Emotionally, she might even agree. Only because her heart was not hers to give. It was imprisoned in a vow. But how could she regret it physically? How could she possibly want to roll the time back and become, once again, the maiden she’d been?

  Yesterday would be her secret for now and forever. James had returned her to the house, parting with a long and tender kiss. She’d stood and watched as he’d rounded the barn, walking his horse back to its stall. What, after a
ll, did a woman say after an afternoon like that?

  Love me again.

  The words were so easily summoned that she wished James stood before her now so that she might voice them.

  He’d touched her and changed her, and as long she lived she would remember that afternoon when they’d been reckless and improvident and unwise. Shortly, she would be a respectable matron of Edinburgh. An honorable woman.

  But she didn’t want any of these roles. She wanted to love.

  After all, no one could chain her heart.

  The journey back from Edinburgh was done in drenching rain. Dark clouds preceded him, while it seemed that lightning was always at his back, sending him away from the city as if it disapproved of his errand.

  James peered through the darkness, finally seeing the manor house squatting on the horizon. A few minutes later, he was dismounting in front of the barn and opening one of the doors.

  Ned was there, hammer in hand, lips clenched over several nails. As he led his horse inside, the older man removed them, putting the hammer down and moving to close the door in the increasing wind.

  “Not a fit night for man or animal, I’m thinking.”

  “It is not,” James said, removing his heavy greatcoat and hanging it on a nail. Rivulets of water dripped from his garments. He didn’t think he’d ever been so soaked. Even at sea he’d had a respite from a storm. But he’d been riding for two days straight in bad weather.

  He led his horse to his stall, began removing the saddle.

  Ned peered over the boards.

  “I take it, from your expression, that your errand was pointless?”

  He glanced at the older man. “How did you know why I was in Edinburgh?”

  “I would do the same if I were you. McDougal refused to relinquish her?”

  “He did.” James busied himself with rubbing down his horse. They’d taken shelter in an abandoned crofter’s hut the night before, but the structure had leaked and was filled with drafts. The warmth of the new barn was welcome.

  “What will you do now?”