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‘It’s my wish that you attend so don’t keep me waiting lass.’
‘I am not a lass, I am Laird Campbell’s daughter, sister to the rightful chief of this clan and not your servant to order about. And I would rather die than show my face at your disgusting banquet and be forced to spend one minute supping with you or that greasy uncle of yours.’
Duncan’s temper rose and his voice hardened. ‘You are coming with me Ailsa.’
‘I amnot.’
‘It’s an order, not a request.’ Grabbing her by the wrist he pulled her towards the door. ‘Did I not tell you what would happen should you refuse?’
‘You wouldn’t dare’.
‘Of course I would. You are coming to the banquet where you will behave yourself and show me some respect even if I have to drag you there by your hair woman. I am master here and I will have my orders obeyed.’
‘You are not master of me.’ She glowered at him defiantly.
Her refusal to give ground stirred him to greater anger. He dragged her into the hallway but she tried to pull away from him and at that point, Duncan’s temper snapped. ‘Have you no notion of the position you find yourself in lass? You have no power here Ailsa. You are my prisoner to do with as I see fit and you will obey me’.
‘So…prisoner is it?’ she sneered.
‘No that was badly said I…’
‘Your show of courtesy and us getting along was just that - a show. I am as much your prisoner as my brother, aren’t I? Why don’t you just put me in chains and get it over with?’
‘If you don’t stop acting like a child I might.’
‘Do your worst then. A dungeon would be better than spending a moment longer in your vile company.’
‘Come,’ he snarled, reaching for her arm again.
‘I’ll see you in hell first,’ she replied, twisting to break his grip and kicking his shin so hard it made him leap back.
‘Enough,’ he growled, ‘that piece of foolishness will cost you dear.’ He came at her grabbing her arms and pushing her back against the cold stone wall. Uncertainty clouded his judgement. Was he being cruel? If so she had done nothing to deserve it and, angry though he was, he had no intention of hurting her or even of punishing her. So why did he have her in his arms, why take hold of her? And now that he had, his anger dissolved into a much more dangerous impulse.
Ailsa was taken back to that night when his kiss had made its mark on her. She was determined not to be a fool this time and was about to turn her face away when Duncan leaned in and placed his forehead against hers. For several seconds he did not move and Ailsa dared not either, though every nerve in her body was screaming.
‘Why do you do this to me?’ he said in an agonised whisper.
‘I do nothing to you.’
‘Oh but you do Ailsa, you just don’t know it.’
‘Let go of me… please Duncan.’
‘I can’t. I won’t,’ he said looking her straight in the eye. ‘I’m trying to protect you, why can’t you see that. What must I do to get you to see that?’
Time seemed to hang between them. His brown eyes were warm with some strong emotion and the smell of him, so close, virile, and earthy, was like a field of summer barley. There was no doubt he was a powerful, beautiful man and it would be a relief to trust him. Why not let herself sink into Duncan’s strong arms and let the world and its troubles disappear? He moved closer and as she stared up and saw the need in his face some wicked voice inside her told her to give in. She wanted his mouth on hers. She wanted to feel joy in kissing him. She wanted to feel beautiful and treasured and safe.
Ailsa’s anger softened as she looked into his fine eyes and the remembered pleasure of his body pressed to hers set her face aflame. How could she possibly want this man to kiss her again when he was the author of all her misfortune? How could she possibly want his hands on her, his mouth teasing a response from her? But she did.
For a brief moment they hung between being lovers and enemies and then as if reading her mind, Duncan’s lips slowly descended to hers and her heart leapt to her throat when they connected. His hands swept gently up her spine and took hold of her hair pulling her close so that she was enveloped by him. For a moment Ailsa struggled not to respond to the sensuality of his mouth, gently, ever so gently, urging a response from hers and his kiss was glorious, delicious, decadent, exciting. She was on the brink of kissing him back, grabbing on to him and clutching his hard body against hers, but suddenly he pulled back.
‘I am not this man,’ he said shaking his head. ‘I amnotand I refuse to be. Forgive me, I should not have done that, forced myself on you like that.’ Ailsa could only stand rooted to the spot. ‘I was angry and I lost control of myself,’ he said, releasing her from his grip.
‘And next time you lose control of yourself am I to suffer the same treatment?’ she said, appalled that she had let him kiss her and humiliated that he had stopped it.
‘It will not happen again, you have my word on it. And I am sorry I spoke harshly. Believe me Ailsa, I would not treat you as my prisoner.’
‘You just did,’ she replied coldly, wiping a hand across her mouth. ‘And your word means nothing. You are unforgivable and I hate you, Duncan Campbell.’
