Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(11)

And he'd chosen her, singling her out amongst the other women eager for his attention. He danced infrequently, but when he did it was with her or the wife of one of his companions. He seemed to be looking for reasons to seek her out—even recently joining the morning hunt. It was even more exciting because she sensed that courting women was the last thing on his mind—clearly he was at court on important business. But courting her he was.

Her father would undoubtedly be disappointed; he'd hinted at future plans for her, but he loved her, and Jeannie was confident she could bring him around.

Eventually.

But she couldn't wait for eventually.

She felt a prickle of conscience, which she quickly brushed aside. It was only a bit of harmless fun that was all.

Then why were her hands damp, her skin flush and sensitive, and her heart fluttering wildly with excitement?

“Meet me,” he'd said earlier, his deep, lilting voice seeping into her pores and warming her skin.

That voice … a girl could get lost in the dark promises hidden in its silky depths. It really wasn't fair. How was she supposed to resist?

From any other man she would have quickly dismissed the suggestion. But with Duncan, what you saw was what you got. If he intended to seduce her he would tell her—not lure her with the promise of a midnight swim. He exuded nobility and integrity. She trusted him.

“I couldn't,” she protested weakly, but they both knew how badly she yearned to say yes. She chewed her lip for a moment, what he was suggesting was outrageous, impossible … wasn't it? “If anyone discovered us—”

“No one will discover us, I'll see to that. You won't regret it.” His eyes darkening with a promise that sent shivers sweeping over her body. Everywhere. The shivers seemed to be getting stronger and more demanding with each day. “It's going to be hot tonight—uncomfortably so. Just think of how refreshing the water will feel. You said you loved to swim? Well, I promise you there's nothing like a refreshing dip under the light of a full moon.” He paused and looked into her eyes. “We can be alone.” He reached out to sweep a stray lock of hair from her face, and she sucked in her breath. The rough pad of his thumb brushed the curve of her cheek. The sensation of his touch was as overwhelming as it was dangerous.

She looked furtively around, worried that someone might have noticed the intimate gesture. But the crowd gathered in the hall was too caught up in the dancing and fine claret to notice the burgeoning love between the young daughter of Grant of Freuchie and Campbell of Auchinbreck's bastard son. She suspected Duncan's brother Colin had guessed, but he'd left a week ago.

And then he leveled the death knell. “I must leave soon. Perhaps as early as tomorrow.”

Her heart twisted. Just the thought of him leaving made her panic. When would she see him again? Was he asking her to meet him so they could discuss their future?

He hadn't let her answer, withdrawing before she could say no. But the look in his eyes … it was as if he knew the temptation he offered would be too sweet to resist.

Still, she'd had every intention of not going. The lessons of her mother were well learned. But once the seed was planted it could not be dislodged. In her heart she wanted to meet him and her head soon grew weary trying to convince herself otherwise. For years she'd heeded caution, but not this time.

I'm not my mother.

The chance to be alone with him after two weeks of stolen moments under the watchful eye of her father and aunt was simply too tempting to ignore. Having cared to avoid drawing suspicion, the subtle flirting provided by the occasional dance wasn't enough. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to look up into those piercing blue eyes, and hear the words that had been hanging between them from the first. To feel his lips on hers for the first time.

There was an urgency—a restlessness—wrestling inside her that she couldn't fully comprehend. But she feared that if she didn't take a chance, Duncan Campbell would be lost to her forever.

So here she was, throwing caution to the wind, traipsing through the palace in her nightclothes, ducking through doorways, waiting in alcoves for guards to pass, following the call of her heart.

She heaved a sigh of relief when she left the great hall and stepped outside into the barmkin. Moonlight spilled across the courtyard, bathing the outer close in a sultry, celestial light. It was brighter outside than in, which also presented a problem: where to hide.

The great hall at Stirling Castle was the largest ever built in Scotland and its massive walls should have provided ample shadows, had they not been washed white with lime. It might make the building a beacon of royal supremacy from miles around, but it also made a poor backdrop against which to hide from the numerous guardsmen milling about.

“By the North Gate,” he'd said. She wished he'd been more specific. But then again, she hadn't really thought to be here.

Taking a deep breath, she darted across the courtyard to the edge of the kitchen buildings—and waited.

Where was he?

She bit her lip. Perhaps this was a bad idea?

All of the sudden, she felt an arm snake around her waist, and she was yanked against a chest that was as hard as a stone wall. She would have cried out, but he covered her mouth with his hand and whispered in her ear, “Shhh, it's me.”

Once her heart started beating again, she became very aware of the press of his body against hers. She'd never been this close to a man. It felt strange … and exciting. His body was hard and unyielding, yet she felt safe and protected. Heat and the faint scent of a woodsy soap teased her nose. She had to resist the urge to inhale deeply, he smelled incredible.