“What happened?”
He shook his head slightly. “I don’t know. I suppose we should have done it sooner, then mayhap there might have been a chance for Amber.” He lifted a shoulder. “She…was bleeding everywhere…Deidra wasn’t breathing. I thought I could heal them both. I chose to heal Deidra first. After, I was too weak to have healed again…but it didn’t matter. Amber was dead.”
Rose put her hand on his arm. “Listen to me. I have been in such a situation before, and both mother and child died. At least you saved one of them.”
“I know that,” he said, echoing her earlier words back at her with as little conviction as she’d stated them. Something fluttered deep in her chest.
She slid her hand up to his shoulder, wanting to comfort him as he’d comforted her earlier. “William.” She said his name softly, her voice catching on the familiarity.
He turned his head slightly. Heat and want burned in the look he sent her, causing her breath to catch again. She wanted him, too. Her flesh hummed with it, her breath short, her body alive with the memory of his kisses.
He turned toward her and touched her, his hand cupping the side of her neck. His thumb stroked the sensitive skin of her jaw and the corner of her mouth, sending tingling sparks of anticipation through her. It was frighteningto yearn so powerfully for a man’s touch. A small part of her urged retreat, to think first, but her body and heart did not obey.
Her hand still rested on his shoulder. She slid it beneath the fold of his plaid, wishing there were no shirt beneath it, wishing…
His mouth came down on hers, forceful, demanding a response. Her thoughts skittered away in the mad rush of desire. She gave in to him gladly, opening her mouth and greeting his tongue, leaning into his hard body. The rough sweetness of his kiss pierced her. He was relentless, taking from her, consuming her. Blood rushed in her ears, fire blazed in her veins.
His hand gripped the back of her neck, commanding her, coaxing her. She gave in, her arms twining around his neck. This was oblivion of a different sort, and she ached for it, the thoughtless passion, the restless hands, the mating tongues.
William was mad, a raving lunatic to be kissing her again, to have sought her out this night—and that’s what he’d done, though he’d lied to himself like a daft fool. Fresh air. That’s what he’d wanted, though he’d wandered the grounds for nearly an hour earlier on the same pretext and found himself distinctly unrefreshed when he hadn’t discovered Rose lurking in the gardens or the courtyard.
So he’d come up here and seen her standing there, sagging wearily against the battlements, and he knew she’d tried to work something out of her heart. He’d done it often enough himself to recognize it—the urge to forget the unforgettable. It never worked—it onlydelayed—but that had never stopped him, and it didn’t stop her. It was a temporary fix to an impossible problem. She was an echo of his soul, calling to him, and he was mindless, unable to resist the siren song.
And then she’d said his name.William.Such a sweet sound. He’d never heard it from a woman’s lips. His wife had called him Strathwick or my lord or Husband. But he was William to Rose. And so he’d kissed her, even though he’d vowed to himself he wouldn’t. That he wouldn’t be another man who stole her trust and left her with impossible shame. But here they were and she was warm in his arms, yielding, the skin of her neck and jaw soft beneath his hand. He was hard already, the sweet stroke of her tongue nearly sending him over the edge of sanity.
He pressed her into the stone wall, forcing his thigh between hers and lifting her higher, his arm around her waist. Her arms were tight around his neck and she pressed closer, as if they could somehow merge into one. With her anchored to the wall, he burrowed one hand beneath her skirts. The skin of her thigh was soft above her hose. Her breath hitched at his intimate touch, but she did not stop him. Her thighs tightened around him, her hips grinding into him, destroying his control. He pulled her into him, his hand on the supple, round flesh of her bottom. The pressure was exquisite; he felt as if he would shatter from her merest touch. He made a sound deep in his throat and renewed his assault on her mouth.
His blood pounded thickly in his ears so that he barely heard the throat-clearing nearby. When it happened again, louder this time, he tore his mouth away,peering into the dark. A man-at-arms tilted his head slightly in a mysterious gesture that William’s lust-fogged mind could not grasp. Then the man moved away, giving them privacy. He would tell others what he’d seen.Christ.
Rose leaned against William, her face in his plaid, her hands curled into him. She trembled. He stroked his hand over her silky hair, closing his eyes and trying to gain mastery over his body. This black, mindless desire was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he couldn’t seem to control it; he didn’t want to. He was in thrall to it, to her. He couldn’t walk away.
She raised her head, gazing up at him with beautiful midnight eyes. “I want to be with you.”
Bloody hell. His body responded instantly and forcefully. He made himself look away from her swollen lips and the naked desire on her face.
“Rose,” he whispered when he could finally speak. His voice sounded rusty and harsh. He smoothed back the hair that had come loose from her plait. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” She caressed him, touching his jaw and his neck, and he shuddered violently. He wanted to shove her skirts up and have her against the wall. He would pull out, he thought recklessly, there would be no bairns. He heard these fool thoughts and recognized his own folly, but he still didn’t care. His muscles tightened as he fought to control himself.
And then in his mind he saw her with her betrothed, that pasty-faced scurr she was going to marry, and he couldn’t stand it. When MacPherson arrived she would never look at him this way again. She would never say hisname as though she cared. And when she learned how he knew MacPherson…she would turn away from him forever.
He kissed her again, hard, driving the image from his mind. His heart throbbed, urging him onward, perilously, thoughtlessly.
She slid her hand into his and pulled away from him. The eyes that gazed up at him were hazy with desire. She drew him along and he followed, telling himself he shouldn’t, but his feet did not obey. She led him along the wall to the steps leading to the bailey. William caught sight of something over the walls and stopped, a cold stone settling in his belly. She tugged on his hand, and when he didn’t come, she glanced up at him. She followed his gaze and grew very still.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said, emotionless, staring at the line of torches approaching. If they hadn’t been kissing, they’d have seen the riders approach. As it was, they were nearly to the loch now. That had been what the man-at-arms had been warning them about.
Rose dropped his hand as if it were a hot brand. “Oh my God,” she breathed, her hands covering her mouth.
A dark, relentless fury built in his chest. He’d been about to make an enormous mistake and was damned vexed at the interruption. He’d never have this chance again. Not now. He wanted to hit something in frustration—preferably the MacPherson lad.
But instead he smiled wryly. “Good thing I spotted them, or it might have been a wee bit awkward when they came looking for you, aye?”
Her eyes closed in horror at the thought. She openedthem and gazed at him, a slight frown between her brows. He wondered why she didn’t leave, why she didn’t ready herself to meet her betrothed. He was nearly un-hinged with anger and thwarted lust. He didn’t want her standing before him anymore, looking mussed and beautiful, tempting him.
“What’s wrong, Rose?” he bit out, his calm façade crumbling. “Your future awaits.”
She swallowed, her eyes bright with miserable hope. “Does it? Or is it here?”
