Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(98)

Her damp hair glistened in the firelight, and springy flaxen tendrils had started to curl enchantingly around her face.

His body heated as he grew painfully aware of the intimacy of the moment. Perhaps this place had been a bad idea. It was too small. Too cozy. Too hot and steamy from the water he'd heated to fill the small wooden tub—actually more of a large bucket, but it had sufficed under the circumstances.

With little space for privacy and not trusting himself to avert his gaze, he'd left her to her bath while he went outside to douse the sudden throbbing in his loins in the cold loch. He'd washed away the dirt and grime of the past few days, but his body would not be so easily tamed.

He was hard as a damn rock and painfully aware that beneath the plaid she'd wrapped around herself, only a torn thin sark covered her nakedness.

She took a nip of the last of the uisge-beatha that he'd poured in two tin cups, catching a drop of the amber liquid that dribbled down her lip with a flick of her pink tongue.

The bolt of raw desire went straight to the head of his cock.

He turned away with a sharp sound of annoyance. If he didn't know better, he would swear she was purposefully trying to torture him.

“Is everything all right?” Lizzie asked.

“Fine,” he said tightly.

She stood up and walked around to stand beside him. She'd wrapped the plaid around her like a shawl slung low on her shoulders, emphasizing the lush, round curve of her br**sts. Tiny bare toes peeked out below.

She was standing too close. Her soft feminine scent wrapped around him like a sensual vise from which he could not break free.

“You don't seem fine,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulders. “You seem tense.” She started to knead the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. “Are you sure you don't want to take off your jerkin? It's nice and toasty in here.”

With intimate familiarity, her hands moved around to the front of his chest and her nimble fingers started to work the buttons of his jerkin. During the course of their all-too-brief affair, she'd become amazingly proficient at undressing him. When her hands dipped too low on his belly, her wrist brushing the plump head of his erection, he knew there was no mistaking her overtures.

He grabbed her hands, clasped them around the wrists, and pulled her in front of him. Jaw clenched, he said tightly, “What are you doing, Lizzie?”

Her cheeks flushed pink. She looked like a naughty bairn who'd just been caught with her hand in the biscuit jar, but her eyes did not shy from his. “I want you.”

Blood surged through his veins. The pulse at his neck started to tic furiously. Her words reverberated through his body, the devil's own temptation.

He stood up, releasing her wrists, but she did not move away.

Maybe it had been a mistake to bring her here. He'd wanted her to understand, but nothing had changed: They couldn't be together. “It's not a good idea.”

Her face fell. “Why not?”

“Nothing has changed, Lizzie. I cannot marry you. Making love to you now would be wrong.”

She flinched from the harshness of his words. He thought she'd turn away, but instead her chin edged up and she looked him right in the eye. “Why?”

“Isn't it obvious? With what has happened, there is too much between our clans.”

“But not between us.”

“What are you suggesting? Surely you know your family would never allow us to marry.”

She took a deep breath. “Not right away, perhaps. But they love me—they'll come around … eventually. You know you can't run forever. Let me help you.”

“Like your cousin helped Alasdair and Iain?”

She dropped her hands from his. “You do blame me for what happened to your cousin and brother. And to your sister.”

He could hear the hurt in her voice but forced himself not to react. This was for the best. “I don't blame you. But others will.”

“Being hated for my name is nothing I'm not familiar with. I'm willing to brave it if you are.” He read the challenge in her gaze. “Have you so easily given up on your vow to return your land to your clan?”

“Damn you, Lizzie.” His eyes narrowed. It was a low blow. She knew now how hard it had been for him to give this place up—and how much he still wanted it. It was part of him. “I will get it back,” he said, and his voice held a dangerous edge. “But I won't use you to do it.”

“If you truly want to do the best thing for your clan, don't you have a better chance with me on your side?” She paused, giving him time to consider her words. “My family will listen to me; let me help plead your case.”

She was right. Her influence with her family was the best option—the only option—the MacGregors had right now. But he didn't want to listen to reason. He was trying to protect her. “And if you are wrong about your family's acceptance? What then?”

“I want to be with you, Patrick. Wherever you are.”

His heart hammered. He was so damn tempted, but then he remembered the past few days and how she'd looked last night in his arms—cold and lifeless. “More caves in the snow, is that what you want? God's blood, Lizzie, you could have died out there.” He couldn't hide the raw emotion in his voice as the memories assailed him. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.