that she was a maid, she knew deep down this kind of passionate potential did not exist between every man and woman. And—after once having the smallest taste of this soul-stealing excitement—she could not imagine settling for a cold coupling with some man twice her age.
“Cristiana.” Duncan spoke her name over her lips between kisses. “You were meant to be touched. Kissed. Tasted.”
Arching up on her toes, she brushed her mouth to his again, luring him back to wreak the skillful magic that made her senseless with desire. She just needed another moment. A last few stolen minutes to feel passion she’d never know again.
His hands locked about her waist. Holding her against him, yet restraining her from further contact. She blinked, confused.
“Why did you refuse me?” His voice was harsh, all traces of the silken-tongued suitor gone. “Why punish us both for a sin we did not commit? Was it not enough that Edwina broke her oath to Donegal? You had to break yours to me, as well?”
Her senses returned so quickly she felt a chill at the loss of passionate heat. She tried to wrench free, regret stinging sharp. His grip did not budge, however. Emerald eyes pierced hers, demanding answers she had already given.
“Do not pretend to have felt punished when you ran to your leman with the haste of a man who has been at sea for years,” she accused. His defection to another woman’s arms had rubbed salt in a wound since he had murmured sweet words in her ear the day prior about making love to her.
“You are so coldhearted that you would deny a man all comfort? Perhaps I should have sailed straight into battle afterward to take out my fury on an unsuspecting enemy?” His features were hard. Unforgiving. And bore no trace of the man she’d kissed.
Which was just as well. She would rather not face that man again anytime soon.
“The point is that you never gave up your lover when you were pretending to court me. And it was not my sister who broke the oath of the betrothal,” she insisted. “’Twas Donegal who simply took what he wanted without respect to the marriage contract. For my part, I would never wed a man who would take his family’s side so quickly he does not see the truth.”
“I might say the same of you. Why are you so sure your sister did not find Donegal’s bed willingly, only to regret it later? You have seen how persuasive a man’s touch can be.”
The sharp bite of his comment sank long teeth in an old wound. Anger erupted, giving her the strength to yank away.
“How flattering to know you only kiss with a purpose. But I will not defend myself or my sister to you again. You chose long ago to side with your brother who, I’ve since heard, has shown his true nature in your absence by bankrupting your lands and dividing your people. Yet you still believe he acted nobly in his treatment of my sister?” She stalked to the other side of the cook fire beneath the cauldron, needing a barrier between her and any man who could make her so angry.
She had lost so much, thanks to his need to humiliate her. Her family. And could he be so blind to Donegal’s character still? How could she trust him with her own people if he couldn’t discern clearly?
“He may have been a poor manager of people and lands. At the time, I could not see how that made him the beast your sister portrayed him as.” He stalked to the cupboard and retrieved a vessel, then plunged it into an open pot of fermenting mead. “Besides, I saw Edwina depart the hall with Donegal myself that night they consummated their relationship. They stole kisses in the courtyard as they left. And I assure you, Edwina did not give those kisses begrudgingly.”
“Stop.” Cristiana refused to think on that night anymore. She certainly did not want to consider the reckless, headstrong heart her sister had left with, only to return home with bruises and a soreness in her spirit that had never fully recovered. Her anger at Donegal had left Edwina unable to bond with his child, robbing her of the joy she should have felt in motherhood.
Edwina had begged Cristiana to raise her child. The choice had broken her sister’s heart, but at least the decision had been a selfless one. Edwina had recognized that her exile from home and her broken spirit would not help her nurture the child. She had wanted Leah to have every advantage—a secure home, safety from her brutish father and a mother whose heart had not been frozen by violence.
So in order to protect the babe from its father and to salvage Edwina’s reputation, Cristiana had vowed not to reveal Leah’s existence until she was a woman grown. Indeed, the secret was not even hers to tell.
“Stop what? Forcing you to see that an innocent maid may not have understood where teasing kisses lead?” He threw back the contents of the cup and then slammed the empty container on the worktable. “You tossed away your future with both hands because of an incident that was as much Edwina’s fault as anyone else’s.”
“Out.” She could not muster more words than this. Not until she took a few steadying breaths and braced herself against a tall column supporting the rafters. “You need to leave and never speak of it again if you wish to remain under my roof. Good day, sir.”
“But it’s not your roof, and never will be if you do not wed a strong man to rule Domhnaill for you. Perhaps I will put my own name forward as your father’s successor to secure my shelter for the winter.” He stalked from the brew house, turning briefly at the door. “I trust you’ve found a time for me to meet with him?”
“Tomorrow.” She had hoped it would not be so soon, but perhaps a cold reception would send Duncan and his men on their way all the faster. “After we sup.”
With a clipped nod, he pushed open the door, allowing a gust of bracing cold air to rush inside.
“And no need to worry about your place here, Cristiana. When I become laird here, I’m sure I’ll still require a mistress of the mead. Or perhaps you wish to become my leman?”
The barb found its mark when she did not think he could hurt her any more.
“A wise man avoids making enemies with a woman who knows her herbs,” she warned, cursing herself for ever opening her gate to him, let alone her arms. But he was already disappearing into the white swirl of a fresh snowfall outside her door.
Of all the cursed arrogance. How dare he threaten to depose her? Yet she’d committed the gravest mistake of the day. What had she been thinking to allow him to kiss and touch her, knowing he was a man of dangerously seductive skill? Of course, that had been much of the allure. The past had been hounding her ever since Duncan had arrived. Memories of their stolen moments together five years ago. The kiss that had taken place in this very spot.
Duncan thought she sacrificed much to remain unwed. In truth, after experiencing his kiss the first time, it had not been difficult to turn away other suit ors. It had only been a hardship to know she would never wed him.
But he’d become her enemy that day her sister had returned home. She’d sworn then that no Culcanon would ever lay hands on the Domhnaill legacy. And no heated encounters with her former betrothed would sway her to forsake that vow.
At sup that eve, Cristiana would have been content to make excuses not to join her guests, except that the holidays were upon them and she had invited many of her father’s allies to Domhnaill in the hope one of them would prove a strong successor for her father.
She certainly had no desire to see Duncan again so soon after their earlier encounter.
But
