The MacLeans - Sleepless in Scotla

  He dipped the cloth beneath the warm water and again ran it between her thighs. She bit her lip, and he did it again. And again. Faster, and faster.

  His eyes gleamed with a deep green heat. “Let me pleasure you,” he whispered.

  How could she stop him, when she couldn’t even stop herself?

  “This seems so…naughty.”

  His lips quirked. “That, my love, is why I like it.”

  My love. The words were meaningless, but they warmed her nonetheless.

  He kissed her ear, making her shiver as he continued to stroke her. At some point, she realized he was no longer using the cloth, but his talented fingers.

  He lightly bit her ear, then nuzzled his way down her neck. Each kiss made her explode with passion.

  His hand never stilled, stroking and teasing. She squirmed, urging him on. It was so decadent, being naked in the tub before a dressed man, her legs splayed shamelessly, her breasts bouncing in the water, the air filled with the sound of her gasping desire as he brought her to the brink of heaven.

  Each touch was driving her mad, and answering her deepest need. She panted, straining against his hand, arching and lifting her breasts out of the water.

  He immediately captured her nipple between his lips, laving the turgid peak until she cried his name and cupped his head firmly to her. The moment seemed to stretch until she could hold back no more. Just as she fell over the edge, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his, as if to swallow her cries of passion whole.

  Triona fell back, MacLean catching her to him. Her entire body quivered with aftershocks as she slowly regained her senses.

  When her thundering heart returned to normal and her mind began to function again, she pushed back from his chest and met his gaze, blushing. “I-I-”

  He grinned. “Yes?”

  “Your shirt is wet.”

  “My breeches, too, for we lost a good deal of water out of the tub.” His eyes twinkled. “I will have to change before I leave.”

  Oh, yes. He was leaving. Her heart sank, but she refused to let him see it. “Thank you for…”

  “You’re welcome. The next time I have a bath, you can repay the favor.”

  Oh! What a wonderful thought! “I’d like that!”

  He laughed at her obvious enthusiasm. “Not as much as I will.”

  When he stood, she saw that his shirt clung to him like a second skin and his breeches were dark where the water had splashed out. “You really do need to change.”

  “I’m just glad I removed my coat and waistcoat before I assisted you in the tub.” He pulled a fresh shirt and a pair of black breeches from the wardrobe, tossed them on the settee, and began to undress.

  Triona watched as he peeled off his shirt, his rippled stomach and chest gleaming damply in the light, a scattering of black curling hair gathering to form a line down to his breeches.

  She loved his chest hair and had trailed her fingers down that line many, many times.

  He tossed the wet shirt to the floor and undid his breeches, which soon landed on the shirt.

  Triona couldn’t help but stare. “That,” she said, pointing, “will never fit into your breeches.”

  He laughed. “That came out of my breeches, so it will fit back into them.”

  She frowned. “Won’t that hurt?”

  “No. Although if you think it might help, you could kiss it.”

  Her lips quivered. “You’ll have to bring it over here. It’s too cold out there for me.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I would take you up on that lovely offer. But I must go.”

  She tried not to look disappointed but must have failed, for he added in a warm tone, “I will come back as quickly as I can.”

  She nodded and watched silently as he finished dressing, forgoing his cravat for a simple neckcloth. He then found a serviceable waistcoat of heavy wool and buttoned that over his shirt before putting on his coat.

  “Will it be cold where you’re going?”

  “Yes. The horses range up the mountains to a particular valley, and it’s much higher than here.”

  “Ah.” She leaned on the edge of the tub, watching him take several clean shirts from the wardrobe. He bundled them together and tucked them under his arm.

  “Aren’t you going to take a portmanteau?”

  “Just a saddlebag. It will keep out the weather.” He raked a hand through his hair and turned to face her, his expression suddenly somber. “Caitriona, I must ask you a favor.”

  “You wish me to watch after the girls! Of course I will. In fact, I’ll—”

  “No. That won’t be necessary.”

  Triona’s smile faded. “Not necessary? But—”

  “The girls are going to Dougal’s. I spoke to them about it before I came up here.”

  Triona frowned. “You don’t need to ask your brother. I will keep them and—”

  “No. And that’s that.”

  Triona stiffened. “Why not?”

  “I overheard them talking this morning. Something about their pantaloons being sewn shut.”

  “Oh. That.” She sighed. “I should explain—”

  “You don’t need to. They’ve already told me everything, which is why they’re now packing to go to Dougal’s. I don’t have time to sort things out right now, but…Caitriona, I owe you an apology. My request that you remain aloof from the girls—I didn’t mean for it to cause more problems than it solved. They resent you and think of you as an outsider, and have taken it into their heads to chase you away.”

  “I know.”

  His frown deepened. “They’ve behaved abominably.”

  “Hugh, they’re spirited girls and they’re just being protective. I don’t think less of them for that.” She managed a grin. “Besides, I’ve been holding my own. Wait until they go to put their hair up tomorrow.”

  His lips quirked. “You took their hairpins?”

  “Don’t be an amateur! I put starch on their hair-brushes.”

  He laughed. “Giving them a taste of their own medicine.”

  “Yes, but…it’s more than that. Hugh, I can’t be here and not be a part of their lives. I’ve been thinking about it, and—” She took a deep breath. “I just can’t do that anymore. I am either here, involved with you and the girls, or—”

  The laughter was completely gone from his face. “Or what?” he asked harshly.

  “Or I need to leave now.”

  Hugh clenched his jaw, and he had to force himself to speak calmly. “It’s too soon.” He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did.

  “It was never meant for me to stay more than a month or two. It hasn’t quite been a month yet, but—”

  “No.” He glanced at the clock. “I don’t have time to go into this right now. We’ll discuss it when I return.” He gathered his things and headed for the door, an odd hollowness in his chest.

  “Hugh?”

  He paused by the door. “Yes?”

  “Please don’t send the girls to Dougal’s. Leave them with me. I’ll take care of them; I promise.”

  However he felt, he was not immune to the pain in her voice. “Caitriona, whenever I have to leave, I always make sure the girls are with Dougal. It’s not because of you, but because of their mother.” He saw the confusion in her face and hesitated. If he left without explaining, she’d think the worse. While he had no desire to examine his own feelings right now, she deserved to know why he was so concerned for the girls’ safety. He sighed and returned to place the bundle of clothes on the bed. “Just before I went to London to stop your sister, I received a letter from Clarissa.”

  “What did this letter say?”

  “The same thing all of her letters say—that she wants the girls back, and will come and get them.”

  “Do you really think she’d do such a thing?”

  “She’s tried before. She knows how I feel about them, and that I’ll do anything—pay anything—to keep them.”

  Triona had never
seen such a bleak look on anyone’s face. Her heart ached with it. “That’s blackmail.”

  “Yes. I made the mistake of letting Clarissa see how much the girls meant to me. At the time, she thought it was quite funny. Later, she saw it as a means to increase her wealth.”

  “How could she think your feelings were a matter of laughter?”

  “I was a confirmed bachelor and had no interest in children. But then I ended up with the girls”—he shot her a hard look—“with my girls, and it changed things.”

  “You grew to love them.”

  He nodded. “I suppose it was quite ironic. Clarissa offered to leave them here if I paid her two thousand pounds.”

  Indignation made her blood boil. “Has she asked for other sums?”

  “Several times. Once I refused, and she arrived with a solicitor, ready to claim the girls.” His lips thinned. “It took ten thousand pounds to get her to leave.”

  “You must stop paying her!”

  “She is prepared to take it to court, and I am not willing to do that.”

  “As the father, you have more right to them than she does. Any court would support you.”

  “It’s a complicated situation.”

  “How?”

  He picked up her towel. “Let me dry you.”

  She rose and he wrapped her in the towel, then carried her to the bed. Her sore muscles thanked him when he gently set her on the mattress, then gave her his dry robe.

  “Thank you.”

  He winked and opened the wardrobe, then brought one of her new gowns to her.

  She took it, but remained on the edge of the bed, wrapped only in his robe. “So you wish to leave the girls with your brother in case Clarissa returns?”

  “Yes. At some point they will be too old for her to threaten, and then nothing she says will matter. Until then, I must be cautious.” He paused, then added in a quietly agonized voice, “A lawsuit aside, she’s not above abducting them. She knows I would pay anything to have them back.”

  “She’s heartless.”

  Hugh nodded, his expression grim. “Which is why the girls must be watched. Dougal has men who protect his house because he worries about Sophia. She and her father are known gamblers, and sometimes have a great deal of wealth on hand.”

  Triona nodded. “Of course they must stay with Dougal. Thank you for explaining things to me.”

  “You’re welcome.” He collected his clothing once more. “I informed the girls that if Dougal invites you to dinner, they are to be polite to you. Tell me if they aren’t, and I will deal with them on my return.”

  She frowned. “Thank you, but I wish you hadn’t ordered them to be nice to me. I was handling things my way, and it would have worked. Now they’ll be upset, thinking I put you up to it, just as I was making such good progress.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Progress? Then you’ve been trying to win them over?”

  “I’ve been giving them the chance to trust me.” Her gaze sparkled with irritation.

  So she hadn’t been following his directive to stay away from the girls after all. Exasperated at her defiance, Hugh allowed his gaze to drift over her face. Her eyes seemed to glow a deep hazel green, swirled with sparkles of gold and flecks of deep brown. Her hair, wet from the bath, had darkened to light brown. Her face was freshly scrubbed, her eyes large in her face.

  It suddenly dawned on him that in a few weeks, she would be gone and this moment would be only a memory. His chest ached at the thought, and he realized with shock that he would miss her.

  She met his gaze. “I would never hurt those children.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  “Not in any way whatsoever.” Her voice was soft, but the intensity of her emotion colored every word.

  If he was going to miss Caitriona this much after only a few weeks, how much more would the girls miss her? He hardened his heart. “I know what’s best for my children.”

  She shot him a hard glare. Distracted by their disagreement, she’d let go of the robe and didn’t seem to realize it was gaping open, revealing one of her breasts and her sweet, bath-flushed skin.

  Suddenly leaving was the last thing he wished to do, and he wondered if he should let Ferguson take one of the stable hands to find the missing mare. But no—if something was wrong with her, no one knew better than he how to tend to an ill horse. “I will return soon.” His voice had a harsh edge, lust tightening his cock until he couldn’t think.

  “Take your time,” she sniffed. “I am sure we will all thrive without you.”

  “Caitriona, you must understand—”

  “No,” she said, grabbing the robe about her and standing. “You must understand. I am a part of this household, whether you like it or not. You made that happen when you married me. You can’t expect me to meekly agree to everything you say. I have opinions, and some of them are better than yours.”

  He scowled. “I’ve never expected you to meekly do anything.”

  “Yes, you have. Every time you speak, it’s an order. You never ask anything. And I, trying to be polite, have allowed you to do so far too often. But no more. I am not one of your children to be cowed by your pompous manner.”

  Hugh clenched his fists, and outside, the low moan of a cold wind rattled against the windows. “I have explained my position to you.”

  “And I’ve explained mine. This isn’t about the girls. It’s about you. You don’t allow anyone close to you, do you, MacLean? Not me. Only the children, really.” She said quietly, “I’m glad they haven’t been as lonely as I’ve been.”

  He’d opened his house to her, introduced her to his children, and welcomed her into his bed. How dare she blame him if she felt lonely? “This conversation is getting us nowhere. We’ll talk when we’re not so upset.”

  She threw her chin up. “No, we’ll talk about it now. You, Hugh MacLean, are the biggest coward I’ve ever met.”

  Hugh stiffened. “I am not a coward.”

  “You are when it comes to being a proper husband.”

  The words settled in the room between them like a wall. He couldn’t believe she’d said such a thing and looking at her wide eyes, he realized she’d shocked herself, too.

  His jaw tightened until it ached. “You don’t mean that,” he said firmly.

  She lifted her chin and regarded him as if she were a queen holding court instead of a bath-soaked lass wrapped in a robe three times her size. “I do mean it. A proper husband would welcome his mate as an equal in all ways and not just the bedchamber.”

  “If this is about the girls, we’ve had this discussion before and you agreed with me!” In the distance, a low rumble of thunder echoed, punctuating his thought.

  “We were wrong. I should never have agreed to stay away from the girls. They know I’m going to leave so they would be neither surprised nor upset.”

  “They would be if they’d come to care for you!” Like I have. The thought caught him, froze him in place, shocking him more than her words had. Through a fog he dimly heard her continue.

  “Hugh, people come and go in our lives, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love us. The children need to know this, to understand that just because someone can’t be with them, doesn’t mean they aren’t cared for.”

  Hugh clenched his hands at his sides, his blood simmering, his heart aching. He was filled with such a myriad of emotions he didn’t know which to address first—uncertainty at his own reaction to the thought of her absence, irritation that he had to leave soon and couldn’t truly do this argument justice, or pure fury that she dared question his decisions for his own daughters. His jaw tightened and the rumble of thunder grew closer still.

  She cast a glance at the window, then returned her gaze to him, her brows lowering. “Don’t threaten me with your storms. You’re the one who has to travel in this mess, not me.”

  “I’m well aware of that fact,” he snapped. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t say such asinine things as force me to lose my tempe
r!”

  Her eyes sparkling with ire, her plump lips pressed in a straight line. “If what I said makes you lose your temper, then that’s an excellent sign that it’s the truth and you know it.”

  Fury roared through him, but she continued. “You are miserly with your emotions, and a coward with your love. You spend all of your life afraid of this and that. It’s not enough, MacLean. The girls and I deserve more.”

  Hugh’s vision went red. The fire flickered wildly, smoke puffing into the room. The windows creaked and groaned as cold suddenly flooded the room like an invisible layer of ice.

  Caitriona kept her gaze locked on his, her face pale, a shiver racking her as she marched to him to stand toe to toe. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Don’t ever question my love for my children. Ever.”

  Her chin came up and she said through teeth that were beginning to chatter, “You may l-love them, but that doesn’t mean you’re sharing yourself with th-them. Those are d-d-different things.”

  “They have everything they need.”

  Her gaze didn’t waver, and he clenched his teeth. His gaze dropped to her hand where it clutched the robe. He concentrated on her hand, picturing a wind blowing the robe away. Slowly, the bottom of the robe rippled. Then the low breeze grew and tugged at it harder. Overhead, thunder rumbled, rain slapping the roof.

  The pain in Hugh’s head increased, and with a flick of his fingers, he let the wind go. It roared through the house.

  Triona’s heart pounded as the vicious wind buffeted her, threatening to knock her off her feet. She flexed her knees and held tightly to the robe, coldness numbing her skin.

  Hugh’s lips thinned; white lines appeared at the sides of his mouth; his hair whipped around his face. A sudden surge cracked through the room as the icy wind ripped the robe from her grasp and sucked the air from her lungs. She gasped for breath, hugging herself in the frigid swirl, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

  A thick mist flowed across the floor and the air grew damp and icy. The wood beneath her bare feet grew freezing cold as the wind sent a delicate vase crashing to the floor. A row of books on a shelf flew off as if a hand had shoved them. One of the chairs by the fireplace flipped over and the settee blew to a crazed angle.