The Magnificent Rogue

  He pressed on her lower lip. “Open … I want to come in.”

  She wanted him to come in. She was being foolish to question this pleasure that was deeper than any she had ever received before. Her arms closed around him as she opened her lips.

  Darkness lay beyond the opening in the barrier, but Kate could see no sign of snow drifting through that blackness.

  “Why aren’t you asleep?” Robert nibbled at her earlobe. “If I wasn’t vigorous enough to tire you, perhaps I should try again.”

  He was teasing her. He could not possibly wish to join with her again after these last hours of erotic play. “I think the snow has stopped.”

  “Aye, earlier this evening. You were a trifle … occupied or you would have noticed yourself.”

  “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” she asked eagerly.

  “If it doesn’t start again.”

  “But the storm could have moved on. We could be able to leave.”

  “Don’t think about it. The weather is treacherous this time of year. We could be disappointed a dozen times before we manage to get out of here.”

  But it was difficult to suppress hope. She had never felt so strong, so alive. She did not want to die. “That’s a foolish thing to say. How can I think of anything else?”

  “You managed earlier.” He went on quickly as she started to speak. “Tell me of this fine home you’re going to have someday.”

  “You don’t want to know. You’re just trying to distract me.”

  “If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked you. Don’t you think I ought to be informed, since it’s my gold that’s to pay for it?”

  It did seem just, but she would rather take advantage of his efforts to distract her in another manner. “Craighdhu. I want to know about Craighdhu.”

  “You’ll see it for yourself soon.”

  Would she? She shivered as she glanced out into the darkness again. “Tell me anyway.”

  “It’s not a large island. Mountains, steep hills, rocky country. I told you about the barrens.”

  “Tell me about the castle.”

  “It’s old, very old. It was built by the Norsemen when they first came to conquer and then to settle the land.”

  “Who was there to conquer?”

  “A savage sun-worshiping tribe called the Picts and later the Scots, the first Gaels who came from Ireland.” He blew a tendril of hair at her temple. “They all made us what we are.”

  “The great and fierce Highlanders,” she said teasingly. “What does the castle look like?”

  “Like any castle. Turrets, stone, a moat. There’s nothing unusual about the castle or my island.” He shrugged. “Many find it a forbidding place.”

  “But not you.”

  He looked into the fire. “Spain is warm and dry, and white jasmine bloomed in the gardens at Santanella. It was everything that poets call beautiful. On the day I stepped on shore at Craighdhu, I was barefoot and my feet were bleeding and the rocks were cold and rough beneath my feet. Night had fallen and torches were burning bright against the gray walls and mists veiled the mountains. It was chill, harsh, and spare.”

  “And beautiful,” she whispered, her gaze on his face.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He did not have to say it. It was there in his expression. Even if Craighdhu was not beautiful to the rest of the world, it was to him. “Home.”

  “Aye.” He smiled. “Home.” He glanced away from her. “I’m sure the home you choose will be much more hospitable.”

  “I don’t know what it’s going to be like. Whenever I think of it, it’s very hazy. But I’ll know it when I see it.”

  “You’re so sure?”

  She nodded. “I always know when something is going to belong to me, to truly be mine. The first time I saw Carolyn, I knew she was going to be my friend, and the same with Caird.”

  He chuckled. “If Caird is an example, then I assume beauty has nothing to do with it.”

  “No, it’s like the pieces of a puzzle coming together. I may have to search for it, but when I see it, I’ll know.”

  “And what if we don’t find it? Will you settle for something less than your dream?”

  “No, that would not be—” She became suddenly aware he had used the word we. “But you need not worry. Once the year is over, I’ll hold you to your promise to furnish me with funds, but I will find my own way.”

  He stiffened. “I suppose I’m just to let you go wandering over the face of the earth,” he said sarcastically. “Perhaps you could even join a troop of strolling players.”

  His roughness stung her after the gentleness that had gone before. “Perhaps I could,” she said defiantly.

  His arms tightened possessively about her. “It would be just like your idiocy to—I will not have it.”

  “You’ll have no say in the matter. I will be free of you.” Her own words were starting a pain somewhere deep within her. She sat up and moved away from his touch. “You won’t even have to set eyes on me again. Your Craighdhu will be safe.”

  “Come back here.”

  “I do not wish it.” She turned to face him. “And I’ve decided once we’re down from this mountain, we should not fornicate again. It is too disturbing.”

  “You like that disturbance.”

  “My body likes it, but it is not wise.”

  His lips tightened. “Sebastian again? I thought we were done with that nonsense.”

  “Not Sebastian,” she said haltingly. “Me. I cannot be like you. I cannot just accept this pleasure. It … affects me. I’m beginning to feel … something.”

  “Something?”

  “I don’t know. It confuses me. It’s as if …” She tried to put into words the hazy fear that had been looming in the back of her mind. “It’s as if whenever we come together, a bell begins striking louder and louder, and suddenly my ears are ringing and everything I am is vibrating with the sound of it. I know I’m part of the ringing, and each time it strikes, I become more a part of it.” She nervously ran her fingers through her hair. “It must stop.”

  “I don’t agree.”

  “But what happens when the bell stops ringing?” she whispered. “You’ve seen how determined I can be when I try to hold on to what I want. What if I decided I wanted to make it keep on?” She shook her head. “I know you do not feel as I do and that this is all play to you, but can’t you see that I—”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he interrupted, then reached out and drew her back down into his arms again.

  “That may be too late.”

  “Go to sleep,” he said roughly. “I’m tired of hearing about bells and strolling players and—I said we’d talk about it later.”

  Kate’s breathing steadied and then slowly deepened. He was aware of the exact moment when she drifted away from him and fell asleep. His body and mind were so exquisitely attuned to her that he seemed to know her every reaction, every thought.

  “You do not feel as I do.”

  He did not want to know how he felt. All he wanted to do was to keep on as they were now, to feel her tightness around him, to be able to reach out and touch her. She enjoyed what he did to her, and he would pay no heed to her words. There was no reason why he should not continue to have her until he knew she was not with child.

  A child.

  The fierce possessive joy that surged through him was startling in intensity. It meant nothing, he told himself, it was only primitive instinct. His mind told him a child would be a disaster for Craighdhu, and he must listen to his mind. After he was sure she had not conceived, he must never bed her again. He already knew he had no control when he was within her and would never be able to withdraw before he gave her his seed.

  But he did not have to think about that now. Not yet. His hand moved down to caress her belly.

  A child …

  • • •

  A band of light was striking her across the face. Too bright, she thought sleepily as she o
pened her eyes, much too—

  Sunlight! Brilliant, beautiful sunlight streaming through the small opening in the barrier. She sat upright, pulling the blankets around her as the chill struck her naked body. “Robert, it’s the—”

  Robert wasn’t there. He must already be outside.

  She scrambled to her feet and hurriedly began to dress. She was thrusting her arms into her cloak when Robert pushed aside the blanket at the entrance and entered the cave.

  “The sun … Will it …?” She stopped, holding her breath, her gaze fixed anxiously on his face.

  A slow smile lit his face, and he nodded in answer to her unspoken question.

  Relief made her almost weak. “Thank God.”

  “You’d best save your thanks until we get down the trail. It’s going to be no easy journey.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “Now. The drifts are fairly deep but not impassable, and it’s better to travel before the sun melts the snow and leaves us with the ice underneath to contend with.” He strode over to Caird. “Put out the fire. I’ll saddle the horses.” He spoke rapidly as he threw the blanket over Caird’s back. “You’ll ride Rachel and lead my horse. I’ll follow on foot with Caird on a tight rein.”

  “I should do that. He’s my—”

  “Responsibility,” he finished for her. “I know all about your sense of ‘responsibility’ For God’s sake, don’t plague me with it now. We have to get down the mountain before dark, before the melting snow refreezes. Believe me, you’ll have enough to do just keeping the other two horses moving.”

  When they started out a few minutes later, she understood what he meant.

  The pace was agonizingly slow, the horses laboring, struggling to force their way through the deep drifts. It was worse for Robert than for her. Caird’s legs gave way three times in the first four hours, and it was a Herculean task to get him moving again. Robert tugged, cursed, and pleaded, and through sheer force of will managed to keep the horse going.

  The third time she reined in to wait for him, he turned on her in exasperation. “Why the devil are you stopping? Your sitting there biting your lip is not going to help me. Keep on going, and don’t look back.”

  “I can’t do that. Anything could happen.” She suddenly burst out, “Caird’s not overly bright. What if he suddenly shied while you were pulling him and knocked you off the trail?”

  “He’s not going to shy. He’s barely able to struggle through these drifts.” He studied her distraught expression and then smiled with surprising gentleness. “And we can do anything we want to do. It’s just a question of in what order we decide to do things. We’re going to get off this mountain, Kate.”

  Strength and purpose showed in every line and muscle of his body as he got Caird back on his feet. He was covered from head to toe with snow, his dark hair was rumpled, and his temper was not at its best, but all of that didn’t matter. He was magnificent, spreading his wings over Caird, over her, and she suddenly felt again that wonderful golden sense of security.

  She loved him.

  The knowledge came out of nowhere, stunning her. She should have known before. All the signs were there for her to see. From that first moment she had wanted to come closer, learn all his secrets, be part of him.

  But she could never really be part of him. There could be no life for her with Robert. He had made that clear. The pain that surged through her at the thought was almost too intense to bear. It wasn’t fair. She had never had anyone to care about. She deserved someone to love.

  But who said life was fair? she thought dully. Their situation had not changed because she had experienced this revelation that had shaken her to the core. If she loved him, she would just have to get over it. She had been more wise than she knew to tell him she would distance herself. She had survived Sebastian, and she could survive this too.

  She turned in the saddle and resumed her own struggle to get down the mountain.

  She almost ran into Gavin as she rounded a curve in the trail.

  A smile of joy lit his face. “Kate! I was afraid—” He stopped, his anxious gaze going beyond her to Robert’s horse with its empty saddle. “Where’s Robert?”

  “Behind me. Just around the turn.” Robert had said Gavin would probably be safe, but she had not realized until this minute the nagging anxiety that had plagued her about him. She smiled. “You had no trouble making it down?”

  “Aye, but I ran out of the storm within an hour after it hit. It’s dry as a bone in the foothills.”

  “If we ever get there,” Robert muttered as he rounded the curve. “Which we’ll never do if you continue to stand there chatting.”

  “I’m not only chatting,” Gavin protested. Mischief suddenly glinted in his eyes. “I’m storing up the sight of you. What an amusing vision you are, covered in snow, playing nursemaid to that nag. It’s going to make a fine tale when we get to Craighdhu.”

  “And I’m sure you’ll make the most of it.” He gazed searchingly at Gavin. “You’re well?”

  The unspoken bond of affection shimmered between them, its strength almost visible to Kate in that moment.

  “Aye,” Gavin said quietly. Then he smiled again. “Without the burden of protecting you weighing me down, I fairly flew down the mountain.”

  “Then turn around and fly back down again,” Robert said as he turned and began tugging on Caird’s lead rope. “And take Kate with you. Make camp as soon as you reach the foothills. I expect a warm fire and hot food when I finally get this equine misery out of this snow.”

  “You’ll have it.” Gavin took Robert’s horse lead from Kate. “Come on, Kate. I know it’s very entertaining to watch the man flounder, but we must take pity on his humiliation and let him suffer alone.”

  “Thank you,” Robert said. “Your kindness is overwhelming.”

  She didn’t want to leave him. Even though Gavin and Robert seemed to think the danger was over, it was still very real to her.

  “Go,” said Robert, his gaze on her face. “You can’t help, and I’ll move faster if I don’t have you to worry about.”

  She wanted him to move fast, she wanted him off this hellish mountain. She tore her gaze from him and nudged Rachel forward, trying not to let him see her fear. “Very well, but see that you don’t dally. I want you down before dark, or we’ll eat without you.”

  She heard his surprised chuckle behind her. “Caird and I will most certainly endeavor not to ‘dally.’ ”

  Darkness had wreathed the foothills for more than two hours, and Kate was almost ill with worry when she and Gavin caught sight of Robert stumbling down the trail toward the campfire. She could not tell who was staggering more, Caird or Robert.

  She jumped to her feet and ran toward him. She was barely aware of Gavin taking Caird’s lead as she pulled Robert toward the fire. “You’re late.” Her voice was shaking, and she was forced to steady it. “Your food is cold, but I might be persuaded to heat it for you.”

  “Never mind. Too tired to eat …” He sank down before the fire and held out his hands. “That feels good.” He closed his eyes, his expression blissfully sensual. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel warm again.”

  Alarm tore through her. “You’re not frostbitten?”

  He shook his head. “Just cold. Come here.”

  She fell to her knees beside him. He lay down on the blanket and drew her into his arms. “Warm …”

  She nestled closer, sharing that warmth, her arms closing protectively around him. “You should eat.”

  He was already asleep.

  He was wet, hard, and cold, as uncomfortable as granite ice against her. He would probably not even know if she moved to her own blankets across the fire.

  She did not want to move. For the first time he had reached out to her not in passion but in need. Her arms tightened possessively about him. It would do no harm to meet that need.

  After all, it was almost over.

  She awoke in the night to feel him aroused,
boldly hard against her, his hands fumbling with the buttons of her gown. Pleasure, she thought drowsily, pleasure coming … She instinctively moved to help him and then stopped in midmotion. “No,” she whispered.

  “Why not?”

  Because comfort was safe, but pleasure was dangerous. She shook her head to clear it of sleep. Dear heavens, she did not want this confrontation now. “You’re tired.…”

  “But I’m not dead.” His hand cupped her breast. “And I’m beginning to think I’d have to be a corpse not to want this from you.”

  Her breast was swelling in his grasp. She cast a desperate glance at Gavin slumbering across the fire. “Gavin.”

  “He’s asleep,” he muttered. His mouth closed on her nipple.

  She clenched when a bolt of heat tingled between her thighs as he began to suck. “He’ll wake up.”

  “We’d never know.” His hand moved down to cup between her legs, rubbing, pressing, exploring. “He’ll pretend he’s still asleep.”

  “I’d know,” she gasped. He was ignoring her protests, and in a moment she would be swept away. “No!” She rolled away and sat up. She began buttoning her gown with shaky fingers. “Not anymore.”

  “Why the hell not?” His gaze narrowed on her face. “This isn’t about Gavin.”

  She swallowed. “I told you, it’s not wise.”

  He muttered a curse. “I want this. I will hear no more about bells and such nonsense.”

  Sweet Lord, she wanted it too. “I will not speak it. It just won’t happen.” She hurriedly moved to the other side of the fire before she could change her mind.

  “The devil it won’t.” He lay there, glaring at her, aroused, angry, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “Very well. I’ll accede to this idiocy until we get to Craighdhu. It would distress Gavin to see you struggle.” He added silkily, “And shame you to have him see how easily you can be persuaded. But only until we reach Craighdhu, Kate.”

  She shook her head without speaking.

  “You will have me,” he said between his teeth. “By God, you will.”