Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(107)

He watched as the sensations clouded her expression. As her gorgeous features grew soft, as her eyes grew dreamy with the pleasure he was giving her.

He felt the first spasm as she arched underneath him, her taut ni**les pressing deeper into his chest.

She cried out his name. She cried for God. And then she cried out for her release.

The hot spasms quivering around his c**k were too much.

His ass clenched. Pleasure intensified at the base of his spine with all the subtlety of a lightning bolt. His bollocks tightened and he began to pulse. The force of his climax possessed him body and soul. Surging one more time, he drove into her, threw back his head, and let go. Crying out as it shattered over him in a torrential wave of hot pleasure. Pleasure that seemed wrought from the deepest part of him. Pleasure that so consumed him it seemed to stop his heart from beating. For a minute he thought he'd died and glimpsed Valhalla.

When it was over and his mind could once again form a coherent thought, he rolled her under his arm, tucking her against the length of his body.

Everything that had needed to be said was said.

They were meant to be together. Whatever future he had would be with her.

Jeannie must have dozed because when she opened her eyes it was dark outside. Duncan had lit the candle and sat at the edge of the bed, pulling on his clothes.

He turned at the sound of her stirring, and swept his gaze down the length of her naked body. A lascivious grin turned his mouth. “Sorry to wake you, but I need to go check on my men and make sure everything is in readiness for our journey tomorrow.”

A chill of foreboding swept over her as his words brought her back to the reality of their situation. It wasn't fair. Duncan wasn't an outlaw. Argyll should know the type of man he was, should know that he would never betray him. It infuriated her that he must go through this.

“How do you do it, Duncan? How are you not bitter with all that has happened to you?”

“What good would it do? Raging against the injustice will not set me free. I prefer to think that justice will eventually win.”

She studied the strong, noble features of his face and smiled. “Don't tell me that the most feared warrior in the land is an optimist?”

He laughed. “Nay, a realist. Eventually the truth will come out. It always does.”

The truth. The cold, hard truth. After what they'd just shared, how could she keep it from him? How could she tell him she loved him one moment and then the next keep the truth of their son from him? But she was scared. Scared what he would think and scared what tomorrow might bring. Tears gathered in her eyes and she spoke her thoughts aloud. “What are we going to do?”

He bent down and kissed her eyelids. “Don't give up on me just yet, love. I intend to live for quite some time. Long enough to marry you and see a babe or two suckling on those beautiful br**sts.”

The surge of guilt took her breath away. He has a son. Tell him.

“I'm done running,” he said. “If I can't find Colin, I've decided to go to Inveraray and take my chances with my cousin.”

Her eyes widened with the sudden icy blast of panic. “You can't do that!” She grabbed his arm. “What if he doesn't believe you? You'll be executed on the spot.”

“I hope it won't come to that.” He dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “Have faith in me, love.”

“I do,” she said. “It's Argyll I don't trust.” He was doing this for her. She couldn't let him go through with it. She had to do something. “What if all of us were to come with you—me and the children. We'll go wherever you want to go until the truth comes out.” Even if it meant sacrificing everything she'd worked to achieve for her son.

He gave her a long look and shook his head. “I'd not ask you to do that. I'll not strip your children of the future that rightly belongs to them. I'll not see your son deprived of his—”

“He's not Francis's son,” she blurted. The words were out before she could take them back.

The room went completely still. He didn't move a muscle. The eyes were black as coal, boring into her with a cold intensity she'd never seen before. “What did you say?”

The change in him was instantaneous. His voice was so hard and flat it was nearly unrecognizable. Panic fluttered wildly in her chest. Knowing this moment was inevitable didn't make it any easier now that it was here. But she trusted him. He would understand. He would do the right thing.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her naked from the bed, holding her more harshly than he ever had before. His hand felt like a steel clamp around her upper arm. “Tell me what you said,” he repeated.

She lifted her chin, bracing herself for the maelstrom. “Dougall is your son.”

He looked at her as if she'd just shot him again. His fingers bit into her arm. He swore—a vile curse she'd never heard him use. “You lied to me. How could you keep this from me?”

The cold accusation in his eyes cut her to the core. He was looking at her as if he didn't know her. He was looking at her the way he'd looked at her that night ten years ago when he'd snuck into her room and accused her of betraying him.

The look shattered the rein she had on her control. How dare he act as if she'd wronged him! She'd done the best that she could under the circumstances. All she'd done had been for her child—for their child.