Page 50 of Return to Wildsyde

“Me either. It’s a conundrum, aye?”

Luella reminded herself sternly of everything she’d been thinking earlier. If anything happened between them, this would be impossible. He’d want her to leave, to leave Wildsyde and Jack and the life she loved here. There was no future with him, no happily ever after. He’d made that very clear.

“Well, goodnight, then,” she said, and hurried to the stairs without daring to look back.

She left the kitchen, telling herself she was not the least bit disappointed when he didn’t follow her. Murdoch greeted her in the hallway, leaping about and barking as if he’d not seen her for six months.

“Hush!” she pleaded, as the dog gambolled about like a spring lamb. “Oh, Murdoch, do be quiet, you’ll wake Jack and Mrs MacLeod.”

Murdoch didn’t want to hush, however, he wanted to play, so she hurried into the study and shut the door to muffle the sound.

“Yes, I love you too,” she said, laughing as she got to her knees and the big dog almost knocked her flat. “Now, do behave, you wicked creature.”

“I’ve nae done a thing wrong, though I was sorely tempted.”

The wry voice came from the doorway and Luella sighed. Fate was determined to see her ruined. There was no escaping it.

“Murdoch, bed,” he commanded, and Murdoch went docilely to the pile of blankets in the corner and lay down with a huff. Lyall walked to her then, gazing down at her.

“Are ye going to tell me to behave, too? Ye had best do it quick.”

Luella’s heart beat too hard, her breath coming too quickly. Desire hit her hard and fast, an unstoppable wave that drew her towards her demise like a magnet seeking true north. Unable to speak or stop herself from inevitable self-destruction, she simply shook her head and reached out, putting her hand on his knee. His breath hitched as her palm inched up, over a powerful thigh dusted with coarse hair, the muscle tensing as her trembling hand slid higher. Lord, but he was warm to the touch, it was almost a surprise when she had gazed upon her mythical Highland warrior and thought how cold and remote he looked just moments ago. But he was no illusion, no dream sent to keep her from sleep, but a flesh and blood man and, if the look in his eyes was anything to judge by, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

There was a muttered curse and then he was on his knees too and she was swept up, his mouth on hers and he bore them both down to the floor. Luella thanked providence for the thick rug before the fireplace as his weight settled over her.

“Lyall,” she whispered, daring to speak his name aloud for the first time.

“I cannae stop thinking about ye, about this. Ye have stolen my wits, Luella,” he said, a bewildered tone to the words that might have been funny if he’d not sounded so frustrated.

“It’s the same for me,” she whispered, stroking his hair. She sighed as he pressed hot kisses down the length of her neck, his hands moving restlessly over her. “I have tried so hard not to want you. I don’t want to cause you trouble, but… but I—”

His mouth on hers stopped her from making any foolish declarations, for which she was grateful. She did not wish to see pity in his eyes in the morning. Perhaps they could just go back to ignoring each other, she thought wildly, even though she knew it was impossible, but she couldn’t stop it, could not stop him, because she was too caught up in the madness of wanting him too. Her body clamoured for his touch, an unendurable ache of emptiness inside her that needed him more than her sanity could bear for another moment. His hands tugged at her nightgown, one warm palm sliding up her leg, up her thigh. He shifted sideways, and she gasped as he cupped her mound, pressing gently. Luella responded the only way she could, pushing back against his touch, her breath catching as a jolt of sensation thrilled through her.

“You want me,” he said, and it wasn’t a question, not that she’d been about to deny it.

“I do. I think I have from the first.”

“Aye, ye draw me to ye like ye have stolen my reason and I have nae will enough to keep away, though this is insane.”

“It is,” she agreed, and then closed her eyes as his fingers caressed her intimately, stroking and petting her until she was mindless with pleasure.

“We have to stop,” he growled, as he kissed her again.

“Yes,” she sighed as his lips trailed a path down her neck. “Y-Yes, we m-must,” she agreed, hardly knowing what she was saying, only knowing that she would not be the one to make it happen.

“Take it off,” he commanded, yanking irritably at her nightgown.

Luella dragged her unwilling eyelids open to see him watching her with feverish intensity. Somehow, she got hold of the hem and tugged it off. He groaned and fell upon her breasts like a starving man presented with a feast. Luella stroked his hair, beyond sanity, as his fingers continued their delicious torment between her thighs and his hot mouth trailed kisses over her breasts, nipping at the taut peaks with his teeth and toying with her until she was trembling with need.

“By God, but ye are lovely. How am I to think when ye are by me?” he said, sounding increasingly unhinged and almost indignant, as though she had been sent expressly to drive him distracted.

“If I can’t, I don’t see why you should,” she retorted, but then he shifted, moving the folds of his kilt aside and the hot, silken press of his arousal was hard between her thighs, skin to slick skin. She sucked in a breath, torn between terror and desire. She wanted him, wanted this so badly, and yet…

“Lyall,” she whispered, needing some assurance from him, some sign that he would not simply use her and cast her aside.

“Aye, lass,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

“I’m—” Frightened, she wanted to say, afraid that her feelings for him were entirely one-sided. She did not expect him to love her, but did he care, even a little? What if she got with child, what if—