The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(92)

She flushed; being this close to him she remembered quite well. His warmth surrounded her, and her skin tingled with awareness of the intimacies they’d shared.

But that wasn’t why she’d brought him here. “This will only take a few minutes. I need to know ...” She looked up at him, searching his taut, handsome face. “I need you to tell me if you want this betrothal.”

Her frankness no longer surprised him. “Anna,” he hedged. “It’s complicated.”

“So you’ve said before. What are you hiding, Arthur? What is it that you won’t tell me?”

“There are things—” He stopped and gave her a harsh look. “I am not the man you think I am.”

“I know exactly the type of man you are.”

“You don’t know everything.”

She heard the warning. “Then tell me.” When he didn’t respond, she said, “I know what’s important. And I know that I love you.”

Her words seemed to pain him. He reached down to cradle her cheek in his hand. The sadness in his expression clutched at her heart. “You might think that now, but soon you will change your mind.”

His patronizing tone and cryptic warnings infuriated her. “I won’t,” she said fiercely, clenching her fists against the urge to shout—or burst into tears. She took a deep, calming breath and said, “It’s really very simple, Arthur. Do you want to marry me or not?”

“What I want isn’t the issue. I’m thinking of you, Anna. You might not believe me right now, but trust me when I tell you I’m trying to do the right thing. I don’t want to hurt you. A lot can change over the next few days. The war will change everything.”

He was right. It seemed as if all her dreams were hanging by a thread. War was upon them and everything she’d known could change in the blink of an eye. The MacDougalls’ power in the Highlands was balanced on a sword’s edge. But there was one thing she could hold on to. “It won’t change my feelings for you. It’s yours that are in question.” She paused. “You haven’t answered my question.”

He cursed and took a few steps away from the door, trying to pace but unable to find the room. His head nearly touched the ceiling. He looked like a lion stalking in a too-small cage. He was drawn up tight, tension radiating from every inch of his powerfully built form. Finally he jerked around and grabbed her by the arm, his expression furious. “Yes, damn it. Yes, I want to marry you.”

The dark cloud that had descended over her lifted. It wasn’t the most romantic declaration she’d ever heard, but it was enough. Warmth spread through her, and she smiled. “Then that is all that matters.”

She leaned closer to him, instinctively seeking the connection of his body pressed to hers. He flinched at the contact, but this time she did not mistake the reason. He wanted her. Badly. Though he was struggling to resist. She could feel the tension reverberating off him like a drum.

His eyes fell to her mouth, darkening with desire. But still he tried to fight against it. “What if I don’t come back, Anna? What then?”

Her blood stopped cold. Was that what this was about? Was he trying to prepare her for the possibility that he could die on the battlefield?

She couldn’t bear to think of it, but she knew it was a possibility. He could die. She clutched him closer to her, gripping the hard muscles of his upper arms in her hands as if she would never let go.

God couldn’t be cruel enough to take him from her. Her heart squeezed. But if he did ...

She knew what she wanted. She couldn’t control what happened tomorrow, but she could control right now.

Perhaps she had brought him here for a reason.

Arthur knew this was a bad idea, but as he’d already proved more times than he cared to think about, he was a damned fool when it came to Anna MacDougall.

A sheen of perspiration gathered on his brow as his blood pounded hot through his veins. The heavy scent of the wine, the musky earthiness of the small room, and the faint floral fragrance of her skin wrapped around him, intoxicated his senses with desire.

She was too close. His need too raw. His mind was half-crazed with images of what he wanted to do to her.

They were alone, damn it. This was too dangerous.

But if he’d hoped to discourage her with talk of an uncertain future, he’d miscalculated.

“I don’t want to think about war and tomorrow. I want to think about right now. If today was the last day we had together, what would you want?”

You. He felt the pull. He wanted what she offered more than anything in the world.

Her words. Her certainty. She made him dream. He wanted to believe a future could be possible. Just for a moment, he wanted to believe she could be his.

His heart pounded like a drum as she lifted up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

He groaned, fighting the urge to sink into her. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t stop.

Her mouth was so warm and silky soft. So sweet. She tasted like honey and smelled ...

God, she smelled like a fresh summer garden steaming in the sun.

She slid her mouth to his jaw, his neck. His body started to shake. He couldn’t hold back much longer. He stood powerless to resist. Praying for her torture to stop.

Instead it grew worse. She nudged her hips to his, rubbing against the neediest part of him. The part of him that was hard, throbbing, and incapable of thought.