The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(91)

Despite his anger, Rosalin felt a ridiculous gurgle of happiness. She knew it! He’d admitted he had feelings for her. Feelings that she suspected ran far deeper than he realized. It made her even more certain she had to stop him from doing something that her brother would not ignore. But how would she get through to him? “All I’m asking is that you do not act precipitously. Make sure my brother broke the truce before you retaliate.” She placed her palm on his chest, savoring the fierce pounding of his heart. “Please, Robbie—it’s only a few days.”

Robbie held himself perfectly still, but emotion was sparring and sparking inside him like a violent lightning storm. God’s blood, she didn’t know what she was asking! He wouldn’t compromise his duty and what he’d fought for for over half his life for anyone. His family’s death had to mean something.

Every instinct cried out to strike back at Clifford. Strike back hard, in the only way the English understood. And what did she offer in return? A dream? A hope? A damned faerie tale?

He’d never asked for this. But for a moment he wanted what she offered with an intensity that shook him.

“Please,” she said, leaning closer. The dream beckoned in the honeyed temptation of her mouth. Kiss her. Take her. Make her yours.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, mostly to keep her at a safe distance, but also because he couldn’t go another minute without touching her. From the moment she’d burst into the room—hell, from the moment he’d tossed her over his lap—all he could think about was putting his hands all over her.

But that wasn’t what she was asking for. Us. A future.

What she wanted he couldn’t give. He released her and took a step back. “I’ve made my decision.”

“But—”

He cut her off. “Don’t. Do not try to put yourself between me and my duty.”

Her eyes flashed angrily. “This isn’t about your duty. Be honest about that at least. Your duty is to secure the truce—a truce you have in place, but which will be jeopardized if you attack without cause. If you have a duty here, it is to make sure you are right. This is about vengeance and the personal battle you have with my brother—the path straight to hell that you both seem intent on traveling down. He strikes, you strike back, he strikes back harder. Right, wrong, everything else is immaterial.”

His fists clenched. What the hell did she know about any of this? He wouldn’t expect her to understand. She was English. “We tried it your way for years, and look where that got us. An English puppet on the throne, English lords in our castles, and innocent Scots hung in barns. The English ignored our cries for justice for years.” He leaned closer. “But you know what, Rosalin? They are listening to us now.”

Her eyes scanned his face. She must have realized he wasn’t going to change his mind, because she brought out the last weapon in her arsenal—and it was a powerful one.

Tears glistened in her eyes and she grabbed hold of his arm as if it were the last lifeline of a sinking ship. “Please, Robbie, I’m begging you to reconsider. It’s only a few days. Won’t you do this for me—for us?”

The soft press of her br**sts against his arm, the intoxicating rose scent of the soap that permeated the air around her, the gently parted lips that were lifted in sweet invitation were a full-out assault on his resolve. The walls were closing in. The bed loomed out of the corner of his eye.

She shouldn’t have come here like this, damn it. He’d warned her. He was hot and restless and in desperate need of the relief she so innocently offered.

Or was it innocent?

He stiffened, recalling the time her nephew had escaped. “It’s not going to work this time, Rosalin.” A confused wrinkle appeared between her brows. “First you offer yourself to save your nephew and now your brother? Is that the bargain?” She let out a sharp gasp of outrage, her eyes shooting to his. But he wasn’t done yet. He moved his hips against hers suggestively—crudely. “Should I take you up on it this time?”

She stared at him as if he were the lowest piece of scum, and at that moment he felt it. Instinctively he tensed, waiting for the slap that he no doubt deserved.

But she wouldn’t let him off so easily. Coolly—icily—she pushed away from him. “What I offered, I offered freely and without condition. You are just too damned blind to see it. Go ahead and have your war, Robbie. If that’s all you want, you will have it. I’m done fighting you. I’m done fighting for you.”

She meant it. He could see it in her eyes.

Let her go.

His heart hammered in his ears. Muscles he didn’t even know he had strained against the urge to reach for her.

She waited for what seemed an eternity, her eyes on his face, watching for some kind of sign.

If that’s all you want…

The muscle in his jaw ticked. Blood roared through his veins, pounding. But he stood perfectly still against the storm.

She turned.

To hell with it. It wasn’t all he wanted at all. He caught her wrist before she could spin away.

Their eyes met. “Damn it, Rosalin, I want you.” He didn’t know exactly what that meant, except that it meant something.

She lifted her chin and threw the gauntlet down right at his feet. “Then take me.”

He couldn’t let it sit there. Not this time. Every man had his breaking point, and the beautiful woman who looked up at him with her heart in her eyes and dared him to refuse what she offered was his.