Highland Warrior (Campbell Trilogy #1)(41)

A sick feeling curdled in her stomach. How could she betray her family like this? For a moment in his arms, she’d forgotten all that stood between them. She pushed against his chest, freeing herself from his embrace. Without thinking, she pulled her hand back and brought her open palm as hard as she could against his face.

The slap rang out as loud as a musket shot.

His face had barely flinched from the blow, but the imprint of her hand showed stark crimson on his cheek.

She covered her mouth with her hand, stunned by the violence of her actions, knowing that it had been as much a reaction against her own response as it had beeen to him.

What power did this man have over her?

Her breath came hard between her lips as she fought for control, fought to quiet the powerful yearnings still firing inside her. She looked into his eyes and the intensity there shook her to her core. His gray blue eyes bored into her, as if he could see right inside her—to her deepest secrets.

“You’ve made your point,” she said hoarsely, her breath ragged. “I hate you, but my body lusts for you. If it was your intention to humiliate me, you’ve succeeded.”

His face was a mask of cold implacability. Looking at him, you would never guess that such passion existed under his steely reserve—but she’d felt it. Moments ago, he’d been kissing her with more emotion than she’d dreamed possible. As if he wanted her more than anything in the entire world. As if she mattered.

“I assure you,” he said evenly, “humiliating you was the furthest thing from my mind.”

The possessive way he looked at her told her exactly what he’d had in mind. He wanted her, and the worst part was that she wanted him right back.

For a moment, her defenses fell and she gave him a pleading look. “Please, just leave me alone to find what peace I can.”

He shook his head. “We both know that is impossible.”

And because she feared he was right, she ran.

Chapter 10

She raced away from him as if the devil were nipping at her heels. In a way, Jamie supposed he was. But she would never be able to outrun what burned between them.

He let her go—this time.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. It was too soon. For months she’d blamed him for the death of her family; he should have given her time to accept what he’d told her.

He stared after her, unable to turn away. Though changed, her beauty was still magnetic. She moved with natural agility and grace as she scrambled up the pathway to the castle, hair streaming behind her head like a silky black veil.

The old plaid she wore had come loose, and she’d gathered it up in her arms. He felt a pang of regret. The plain sark and kirtle she wore was a stark contrast to the fine gowns he was used to seeing her in. The things that had once given her pleasure were barely spared a thought.

Princess, he’d called her then. Now, the comparison seemed cruel.

She’d changed, and not just in her choice of adornment. No, the changes went far deeper. Where there had once been naïveté and innocence, there was now wariness and sorrow—but also a hard glint in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

One thing, however, hadn’t changed. She still possessed an uncanny ability to make him lose control. The harder she tried to push him away, the more he wanted to force her to acknowledge what was between them. It seemed the only thing she couldn’t deny was her passion.

She thought it was lust. But lust was a simple emotion, and there was nothing simple about the blistering attraction and steely connection that seemed to bind them together.

He whistled for his mount, and the powerful black stallion clopped quickly to his side. After gathering the reins in his hand, he started toward the keep, troubled by how much she’d changed.

Hell, he’d never wanted to see her brought so low, he’d only wanted her to understand that the world was more complicated than she thought. He hadn’t wanted her to suffer like this or see such brutality.

If he hadn’t been so damn angry by her refusal, he might have been able to protect her. But pride stung, he’d kept his intentions to himself. If he’d told his cousin or brother Colin of his plan to marry her, her family might have been spared. She might have been spared.

He would never be able to give her back the family she’d lost, but he would do what he could to make things right.

He gazed up at the keep as he drew closer, remembering her parting words. A less determined man might do as she asked. But Jamie couldn’t walk away and leave her as she wanted. Caitrina Lamont had gotten under his skin in a way no woman had before. Even though she’d been through hell and back, she was still fiery, passionate, stubborn, and proud. What he’d once dismissed as spoiled had reflected strength of character that ran much deeper. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever known.

She belonged to him, and he would not—could not—let her go.

Caitrina’s heart was still pounding as she entered the dark stone staircase of the old keep and wound her way up to the small chamber that had been set aside for her in the garret.

It was no more than a servant’s room, but for her it was perfect. The low, sharply angled ceiling of the small space made her feel safe. And because the chamber was at the very top of the tower, too high to climb, there was a large window for her to look out of onto the Clyde. Her uncle had offered her a more sizable room below to share with her two young cousins, but Caitrina preferred the solitude and quiet—the girls, though sweet, were but twelve and fourteen and prone to chatter. Like Brian. The memories were too painful.