* *
Rhys had no intention of leaving Lianna MacKinnon behind. She was a complicated woman, and he was beginning to see what her father had meant. Everything about her spoke of an ordered life. Even the way she folded the linen cloth was precise.
It was clear that she despised change in any form, and the urge came over him to ruffle her calm exterior and find out if more lay beneath the surface.
A light rain began to fall, and she raised her green and brown brat to cover her hair, clearly waiting for him to go. The rain did not appear to bother her at all.
‘It’s raining,’ he pointed out. ‘Do you not wish to take shelter?’
‘I am used to it.’ Nodding towards the road, she prompted him again, ‘Take the path, and you will see our home. It isn’t far.’
There was no denying that she wanted him to depart. But he answered, ‘Where I am from, we do not leave women unprotected.’
Lianna revealed the dagger tucked into her waist. ‘I am not unprotected. And if you had threatened me in any way, I would have gutted you.’ She spoke the words quietly and was startled to see him smile.
‘Good.’ He stared at her a moment and then said, ‘I suppose if you do not wish to go, then I will stand guard over you.’
‘There’s no one here,’ she pointed out. ‘What would you guard me from? If there were any danger, I could scream, and half my clan would come running.’
He ignored her claim and pointed to the dolmen. ‘You could take shelter beneath the stone. It will keep you dry for a little while.’
She laughed at his claim. ‘I would not fit inside such a small space.’ The humour in her brown eyes warmed him, and he liked her. She kept a tight control over her life, and it might be interesting to loosen those bonds. Rhys could not deny that this woman intrigued him.
He understood now, why her father had warned him not to reveal his true identity. In this moment, he could learn more about her without his Norman heritage overshadowing him. They could get acquainted as man and woman.
‘Are you certain you do not wish to find another shelter?’ he offered.
She shook her head. ‘There isn’t time. I usually visit with the crofters after I finish my meal. I should go now.’
But he caught her hand again and held it a moment. The rain spattered on her skin, and he stared at the droplets upon her lips. He wanted to know if she felt any sort of attraction towards him. The need was strong, and he wanted to unravel this woman, to see what lay beneath the surface.
And so, he decided to give her pieces of the truth. Let her make of them what she would.
‘I didn’t only come here to make an alliance,’ he murmured. ‘Or as a wedding guest.’
She closed her eyes but did not pull her hand away. Instead, it seemed that she was spellbound in the same way he was. ‘Why did you come?’
‘I came for you, Lianna MacKinnon. Because my father wanted me to wed you.’
Her eyes flew open at that, and she did try to pull away. ‘But—I—I cannot. I am already promised.’
Her face flushed scarlet, and he moved in closer, placing both hands on either side of her waist upon the stone dolmen. He waited, giving her every opportunity to push past him. If she even attempted to escape his embrace, he would not hesitate to let her go.
‘If you were not betrothed to the Norman, would you consider a different marriage?’
Her eyes were wild with fear, but she placed her hands upon his shoulders as if to ward him off. ‘I—I don’t think I—’
He leaned in, brushing his mouth against her temple. Her skin was soft, her red hair turning darker beneath the rain. But he could not deny his interest in her. He found himself wanting to coax this woman into yielding to him.
‘What if you wed a man like me?’ he murmured, his lips against hers. ‘Would that be so terrible?’ With that, he claimed her mouth. He kissed her gently, not wanting to frighten her. At first, her lips didn’t move, so startled was she. But as he learned the shape of her mouth, teasing her, gradually she began to respond.
She twined her arms around his neck, and tentatively moved her mouth against his. He stroked back her hair, encouraging her without words. His wife-to-be did have a more sensual side to her, and when he drew her body against his, she clung to him.
‘I shouldn’t do this,’ she whispered. ‘I am betrothed to another man.’
‘And what if that man were me?’ he asked, sliding his hands down her spine. ‘Would you be so reluctant to wed?’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘But that man isn’t you.’ This time, she did pull back, her cheeks reddening. ‘I can do nothing until the Norman agrees to let me go. And that might not happen.’
She closed her eyes with guilt, and her mind was already forming plans, he could tell. But he wanted more from this woman. He wanted to tempt her into forgetting about the boundaries between them, offering her the chance to have a very different sort of marriage, like the one his grandmother had enjoyed.
Ever since adolescence, Rhys had been stifled by responsibilities. His father had taken full command over Rhys’s life, demanding that he learn every skill necessary for governing Montbrooke. And his stepmother had seized her own control, trying to bend him to her will. He closed off the darker vision, for he would never again be at a woman’s mercy. If he chose to wed Lianna MacKinnon, it would be on his terms.
He wanted to know if she found him desirable, if there was any hope for a true marriage between them. Rhys framed her face with his hands, and her eyes softened. The rain slid over her cheeks, and he kissed the water droplets, claiming her mouth again. This time, he would not allow her to think of anything else, save him. He needed to push away her doubts, and when he revealed the truth to her, she would no longer regret the match.
‘Gavin—’
‘Shh.’ He silenced her and kissed her with more intensity, hoping to drive her towards madness. He pressed his leg between hers, and lifted her hips until she was straddling his thigh. The kiss turned hotter, and when he stroked her tongue with his, he lost sight of his own plans. She emitted a slight moan, shuddering as she rocked against him.
Her innocent reaction caused him to lose control. This woman was his and had been promised to him since birth. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin when he kissed her. Her sensitivity made him reckless, and he could voice only one thought in his brain: Mine.
No longer would he consider giving her to Warrick. She belonged to him, and one day soon, this Scottish beauty would be naked in his bed, and he would enjoy pleasuring her. She shuddered, and he imagined how it would be to bring her to fulfilment.
But abruptly, she shoved him back, her face stricken. ‘I cannot,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her face held shame and guilt, and she hurried past him to her horse.
‘Lianna, wait.’ It was better to admit the truth to her now, to reveal his name and let her know that there was no harm in what they had done.
But
