Part 11 (1/2)
”Why?” The hand on her hair tightened so that she was forced to lift her head. ”Because I'm English?”
”No. Yes. I don't know.” Her voice rose, roughened by the beat of her pulse. ”I only know I don't want this. I don't want to feel the way you make me feel.”
He felt a moment of triumph as he dragged her closer. ”How do I make you feel, Rena?”
”Weak, afraid, angry. No, don't,” she whispered as his lips hovered above hers. ”Don't kiss me.”
”Then kiss me.” He brushed his lips lightly over hers.
”I won't.”
His lips curved as hers met them. ”You already are.”
With a shuddering moan, she clutched at him, taking what her heart wanted and blocking out the warning in her head. He wasn't for her, could never be for her, and yet when he held her it seemed as though he had always been for her.
His lips teased and retreated, seduced and tormented, until she was driven to take possession. Had she told him he made her feel weak? That was a lie, she thought dimly. She felt strong, incredibly strong, with energy coursing through her and pumping through her blood until it ran hot. A woman could fear weakness, but not power. She wrapped her arms around him, let her head fall back and her lips part as she all but dared him to try to sap her strength.
It was like holding a lightning bolt, he thought. Full of fire and flash and dangerous power. One moment he was coaxing, the next he was bombarded with the heat that seemed to radiate from her. Murmuring her name, he lifted her from the water. He held her aloft for a moment, then slowly let her slide down his body until her feet hit the floor.
Then her lips were racing over his face. She slipped her hands beneath his coat to run them impatiently over the linen of his shut. Her body was arched against his, begging to be touched. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s yielded temptingly against his chest Knowing his only choices were to pull her to the floor and pleasure them both or stop, Brigham dragged himself away.
”Serena.” He took born of her hands and brought them to his lips. ”We must talk.”
”Talk?” Thoughts couldn't surface in a head that swam so thickly.
”Yes, and soon, before I abuse the trust of your father and my friend more than I already have.”
She stared at him a moment, and then her mind began to clear. Pulling her hands away, she pressed them to her cheeks. How could she have thrown herself at him in that way? ”I don't want to talk, I want you to go away.”
”Want or not, we will talk.” He grabbed her hands again before she could turn away. ”Serena, we can't pretend that something doesn't happen between us every time we're together. I may not want this any more than you, but I'm not fool enough to say it doesn't exist.”
”It will pa.s.s,” she said, desperate to believe it. ”Desires come, and they go.” He lifted a brow. ”Such cool and worldly talk from a woman in bare feet.”
”Oh, leave me be, will you?” She shoved at him. ”I was fine and happy before you came here. I'll be fine and happy when you leave.”
”The h.e.l.l you will.” He pulled her against him again. ”If I were to leave now, you'd weep.”
Pride stiffened her spine. ”I'll never shed a tear over you. Why should I?
You're not the first man I've kissed, and you won't be the last.”
His eyes narrowed to slits, darkened like onyx. ”You live dangerously, Serena.”
”I live as I please. Now let me go.”
”So I'm not the first you've kissed,” he murmured. He had a desperate and vivid desire to know the names and faces of each one so he could murder them. ”Tell me, did the others make you tremble?” He kissed her again, hard enough to make her gasp. ”Did they make your skin go hot and soft?” His mouth came to hers again, and this time she could do nothing but sigh against his lips and let him have his way. ”Did you look at them the way you look at me now?” he demanded. ”With your eyes dark and clouded?”
She clutched at his shoulders, almost afraid she would dissolve and slide through his hands. ”Brigham-”
”Did you?” he demanded, his eyes dark and bright.
Her head was reeling, and she shook it. ”No.”
”Serena, I've finished in-” Gwen pushed open the door, then stood, her mouth forming a surprised O as she stared at her sister caught in a close embrace with their guest. Serena stood on the toes of her bare feet, gripping Brigham's beautiful coat. And he-Gwen's young imagination caused her blush to deepen.
”I beg your pardon,” she managed, and continued to stand, looking from one to the other without the least idea what to do.
”Gwen.” With more force than dignity, Serena pulled out of Brigham's arms. ”Lord Ashburn was just-”
”Kissing your sister,” he finished coolly.
”Oh.” Gwen watched Serena send Brigham a furious glance. ”I do beg your pardon,” she repeated, wondering if it would be best to go or stay.
Amused, Brigham watched Gwen wrestle with propriety while Serena whirled to the cupboard and rattled crockery. ”There's no need to beg anyone's pardon,” she said testily. ”Lord Ashburn wanted soup.”
”So I did, but as it happens I've had all my appet.i.te can handle at the moment. If you ladies will excuse me...” He strolled out, wincing only slightly as a bowl hit the floor.
Chapter Seven
King Louis will not intervene.” Brigham stood in front of the fire, his hands clasped behind his back. Though his eyes were calm and his stance relaxed, his voice was grim. ”It becomes less and less likely as time pa.s.ses that he will support the Prince with gold or with men.”
Coll tossed the letter that had come earlier by messenger onto a table and rose to pace. Unlike Brigham's his impatience needed room and movement ”A year ago, Louis was more than ready to lend support Ready? d.a.m.n, be was eager to lend it” ”A year ago,” Brigham pointed out ”Louis thought Charles might be of use to him. Since the French invasion was abandoned last March, the Prince is largely ignored by the French court”
”Then we'll do without the French.” Coll turned to glare first at Brigham, then at his father. ”The Highlanders will fight for the Stuarts.”
”Aye,” Ian agreed. ”But how many?” He held up a hand to prevent his son from launching into a pa.s.sionate speech. ”My mind and my heart remain unchanged. When the time comes, the MacGregors fight for the rightful king.
But it's unity we need, as well as numbers. To win, the clans must fight as one.”
”As we have fought before,” Coll said with a slap of his fist. ”And will again.”
”Would that were true.” Ian's voice was quiet, one of reason and regret.
And of age, he thought with an inward sigh. Growing old was the d.a.m.nedest thing. ”We can't pretend that every chief in Scotland stands behind the true king or will rally his clan for the Prince. How many, Brig, will stand against us in the government army?”
Brigham picked up the letter from the table and, after glancing at it once more, tossed it into the fire. ”I expect word from my contacts in London any day.”
”How much longer do we wait?” Coll took his seat again to stare into the fire. ”How many more months, how many more years do we only sit and talk while the elector grows fat on the throne?”
”I think the time of rebellion comes sooner than you might think,”
Brigham murmured. ”Sooner than we might be prepared for. The Prince is impatient.” ”The Highland chiefs will meet again.” Ian drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. Like any wise general, he preferred to plan his war before raising his sword. ”Care must be taken to keep such meetings from raising the suspicions of the Black Watch.”
Coll swore roundly at the mention of the Highlanders recruited by the English to maintain order in Scotland.