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He froze, nothing in him stirred as he spread despair and longing in her. His attention searched every inch of her face.
“Lachlan,” she begged.
In response, his palm caressed her inner thigh. Lightly.
“Blasted hell!” she nearly roared. “You, I thought of you! You cursed scoundrel!”
With a triumphant grin, his fingers returned to
her centre and heaven smiled at her. “Me?” he sounded genuinely surprised.
But she had no time to say anything, merely scream as the earthquake hit her full force. He rode the waves until there was nothing left, of the earthquake, or of her.
Strong arms gathered her and he allowed her respite for a long while
“I’d never have imagined,” he started at last.
Her head turned to him. “No surprise there,” she dismissed. “They say you’re the most handsome sod in the Highlands.” She felt rather embarrassed with her confession.
Unwilling to disclose any more on the subject, she left the bed, threw on her wrap, and neared the washbasin. “Time to start a new day,” she announced, signalling to him she required privacy. “Thanks for…well…everything.” Unable to meet his eyes, she kept her back to him.
The door clicked shut and elicited a sigh of relief from her.
Both sat silent in the morning room at breakfast. Lachlan witnessed Moira eating with a remoteness to her. He should not tell her it had been the best night he had ever spent with a woman. Even less that the thought of doing it for the rest of his days crossed his mind. As to confessing that he had felt a burn of jealousy at the possibility she fancied someone else? Not under the cruellest threat. But to admit to utter smugness upon hearing he had been the object of her fantasies, this he would take to the grave. And here he thought she did not like him. Well, she did not have to like him to fantasise about him, did she? Her explosion of pleasure in his arms caused him to feel powerful. Perhaps, extracting the fact from her in the way he did may not have proved his best moment, but the revelation inflated him shamelessly. It also forced him to accept he desired her all the more for that. Something he would have to keep to himself if he intended to remain an honourable man.
Granted, he was not the most honourable man in the Highlands. What with the lasses swarming to him.
When it came to Moira Darroch, he must be. Difficult as he wanted her more than any other woman he had ever met. The fire in her spoke to something in him. He imagined it turning him to ashes and scorched even more for her. Her fierceness, determination and loyalty did not help things. His admiration for her added fuel to the fire already blazing between them.
Noises from the entrance drew their attention. In mute accord, they stood from the table and walked to the hall.
Drostan, sided by Freya, and Fingal by Catriona were just coming in the hall. At his sight, his brothers stopped, bracing legs, crossed arms, a hard stare at him. Moira stood by his own side.
“We heard the news,” Drostan said.
“Aren’t you ever going to grow up?” this from Fingal. His middle brother alluded to his ever-present hot head.
Naturally his brothers and sisters-in-law deemed his short temper to blame.
“We have a situation,” Lachlan answered simply.
CHAPTER EIGHT
In the drawing room, the six of them sat while Lachlan explained their predicament extensively. Complemented by what Moira had been going through before their ‘betrothal’.
“Those furry babies killed!” exclaimed Catriona who had a special attachment to animals.
“The man is an ass.” came Fingal.
“Such a strong lass for holding it up all this time,” admired Freya.
Drostan showed a grave expression, understanding the full implications of what he heard. “This is a serious threat to the power balance in the Highlands,” he surmised. “We need to put a plan in place to neutralise The Pitcairn.”
Moira cast a glance at each of them surprised at their favourable opinion. “Look, I appreciate your support,” she started. “But I don’t think it wise to involve the McKendricks in this. It may become dangerous. I don’t wish your families at risk.”
“If we don’t put a stop to it, the villain will advance as much as he wants. Danger will increase.” Fingal pinpointed.
“He’s right,” agreed Lachlan.
