Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(39)

“Your skin is like velvet,” he murmured against her ear.

She froze; the words uttered once before penetrated the sultry haze like a splash of ice water.

What was she doing? It was only supposed to be a kiss.

Dear God, hadn't she learned her lesson the first time? Lust was not love. Sex was not closeness. No matter how good it felt, it would not make him care for her. Was she so starved for affection that she would forget?

She'd made this mistake before and would not do it again. Not for a man who could never be hers. Not for a man still mourning the loss of his wife. She felt a twinge in her chest, realizing why he'd probably reached out to her— to forget. To take solace in oh-so-willing arms.

“No,” she murmured against his mouth, twisting out of his arms and pushing him away with a ferocity that startled them both. “Let go of me,” she choked, her chest heaving for air. “I told you this cannot be.”

His eyes were dark and penetrating, piercing her with intensity. Despite the raggedness of his breath, his words held an edge. “It felt very much like it could … be.”

“Have you forgotten your wife?”

A strange look crossed his face. “For a moment, I did.”

She gasped, not sure what to make of his confession. He took a step closer to her, the hunger in his gaze sending a shiver of trepidation whirling down her spine. Never had she been more aware that he was no courtier, but a warrior— and a Highland one at that. He could take her whether she wished it or not. But strangely enough, she trusted him.

“Don't lie to yourself, Elizabeth. You want this as much as I do.”

His hand slid around her waist. She could feel the subtle pressure on her hip bringing her toward him again.

Why couldn't he see that this could not be? Didn't he know what this was doing to her?

It felt as if she were swimming against a strong current, one determined to drag her under. But she was just as determined to learn from the past. She had to put an end to this once and for all.

Summoning what was left of her resistance, she wrenched free of his hold. “You forget yourself, sirrah.” Lifting her chin, she gazed deep into his eyes so there would be no mistaking her meaning. He was a guardsman and not a suitable suitor. “It was a kiss, nothing more. A mistake, and one that will not be repeated. Do not touch me again.”

Words, Patrick thought, had not the power to strike a blow. He was wrong. She didn't want him. He could see it in her eyes: He wasn't good enough for her. And she didn't know the half of it.

By all that was holy, if there were any justice in this world, they would be equals in every way.

He buried his resentment behind a stiff bow, his jaw clenched tight. “I apologize. I didn't realize it was so distasteful to you.”

She reached out to grab his arm. “No, I …” But her words fell away as her hand dropped back to her side.

He could see the turmoil on her face, in her eyes, but it did not lessen the sting of her rejection. “You need not worry that I shall make that mistake again. I'll not press my attentions where they are so obviously unwanted.”

It was clear that she didn't know what to say. “I'm sorry.”

He watched the sweet red mouth he'd just kissed tremble. But nothing could stir the cold, hard stone in his chest. He was a fool to let her get under his skin.

He made no move after her as she turned and ran down the hill toward the castle. He watched her, though, bitterness and longing twisting seamlessly inside him. The smoldering resentment born in a man who wanted something desperately but knew that it didn't rightly belong to him. She was innocent—

Nay, not so innocent.

The knowledge clawed at him with a viciousness that surprised him. Elizabeth Campbell had been kissed before. Thoroughly kissed. And from the way she had responded to his touch, he suspected that she'd done more than kiss.

How much more?

The question ate at him unrelentingly, a primitive voice in his head that wouldn't quiet. Every instinct clamored with possessiveness.

He told himself it was because of his plan. She might not be as easy a mark as he'd thought. Experience would make her less likely to fall into his seductive trap and perhaps even make her wary.

But the intensity of his reaction told him that it was more complicated than that.

Never had a kiss ignited into passion so quickly. He'd been a few minutes away from tossing her down on the grass and taking her right here—like some damn animal. Elizabeth Campbell was far more desirable than he'd ever anticipated.

Patrick's blood had cooled, but his body still teemed with restless energy, his lust far from sated. Lust that would make him lose focus if he didn't do something. Hell, he was already losing focus.

He needed to keep his mind on his goal, not on his rock-hard erection. This wasn't about bedding the lass, it was about getting his land back.

He needed to clear the haze, and there was only one way to do it.

Chapter 8

It was only a kiss.

A lapse in judgment. No reason to keep punishing herself for it.

But when Lizzie returned to the castle, the turmoil had not lessened. Her heart wouldn't stop racing, her mind was going in a thousand directions, and she felt perilously close to tears. She'd never felt more confused, more uncertain, in her life. All she wanted to do was forget about Patrick Murray and how incredible it felt to be in his arms. Forget the way his mouth felt on hers, the hot, spicy taste of him, the imprint of his big swordsman's hand on her breast.