The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(70)

She’d begun to dream.

And miraculously, it seemed her dreams were answered. When she finally shared the truth of her past with him, he’d held her in his arms and comforted her. And then he’d kissed her—so tenderly—and told her that he loved her. She’d never forget the hope of that moment. It was beyond her wildest dreams. She thought it surprised even him. They reveled in their newfound feelings—in her slowly awakening passion—for months.

Until he asked her to marry him. He would have ignored his duty to marry for the benefit of the clan and taken a woman with only a few pounds to her name as his wife. But then she told him she would never be able to give him a son. That was the one duty he could not ignore.

They’d existed in a state of perdition for nearly two years, the hopelessness of the situation making them both miserable. But it wasn’t until he’d made his “offer” that she’d broken it off. He’d refused to accept it, in anger reverting to the cold, imperious earl he appeared to everyone else.

But now he was here. Thank God, he’d come just in time. She cleared the emotion from her throat with a hard swallow and lifted her gaze back to his. “I let my guard down. It’s a short walk from the guild, and I’ve grown accustomed to walking by myself. I shall take precaution next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

The imperialistic tone in his voice should have alerted her, but she couldn’t tamp the pang of hope. Had he reconsidered? Had he decided to put aside his duty to marry her?

She didn’t believe it. Not really. But the ache of hope in her chest proclaimed her a liar.

“Why are you here, Will?” she asked quietly.

He bristled. “I’ve come to fetch you back myself as you commanded.”

“But why?” She held his gaze, but he turned away.

“You are needed.” Not “I need you.” Not “I can’t live without you.” Not “I love you.” “Helen decided to accompany the king on his progress.”

How was it possible that she still could feel disappointment? She took a deep breath. “So you came to bring me back as your healer?”

He flinched at the hollowness in her voice. Had she pricked his elusive conscience? “Aye.”

I’m a fool. Nothing had changed. She couldn’t blame him for not marrying her. She understood his duty. But she did blame him for not letting her go.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t leave right now. I’m in the middle of—”

“I shall speak to them. You will be allowed to return when you wish.”

His disregard for her work, as well as his certainty that the men would bow to the great Earl of Sutherland, infuriated her. “No, Will. I said no!”

His eyes sparked dangerously. God, how he hated to be denied! “Damn it, Muriel.” Before she realized what he intended to do, he grabbed her arm, hauled her up against him, and covered her mouth with his.

Her traitorous heart shattered at the contact. The first familiar taste of him drenched her with heat and happiness. Emotions she’d been trying to suppress broke free in an instant.

His kiss was bruising, punishing, his lips plundering with every demanding stroke. His passion for her had always been her weakness. He’d never kissed her like a damaged piece of china, he’d kissed her like a woman who could feel passion.

And God help her for a fool, she did. She slid her tongue against his and kissed him back every bit as ravenously, every bit as desperately. She loved him so much and wanted every inch of him. She clutched the steely muscles of his back, pressing herself more firmly against him. She loved the way he felt against her. Hard and strong. Warm and safe.

He groaned into her mouth, digging his fingers through her hair to bring her mouth more firmly against him. He opened her mouth wider, slid his tongue in deeper, stroking her harder and harder.

He was losing control. She could feel the stiff facade of the earl start to break apart and the warm, passionate man she’d fallen in love with begin to shine through.

But then he remembered himself.

With a fierce groan, he tore away. In profile, she watched the heaviness of his breath start to slow as he composed himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …” His eyes locked on hers. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not why I came.”

Muriel thought her heart was done breaking, but she was crumbling inside. He’d remembered his duty. The stiff, formidable earl had returned. The man who wouldn’t be denied. The man whose love would make her a whore.

“It will only be for a short while. Until a suitable replacement can be found.”

Her chest burned. A wife. The woman who would take her place. Oh God. She couldn’t bear it.

She would have refused him again, but he knew her weakness.

“You owe me, Muriel. You owe my family.”

She staggered at the blow. The expertly wielded dagger that pierced her heart. He was right. She did owe him. His family had taken her in and given her a place to heal. When her father died, Will had not forced her to take a husband like anyone else would have done. It didn’t matter that his motivation was selfish. But she hated him for using her gratitude against her. He’d given her freedom; now he was taking it away.

She forced her gaze to his, though the burning in her chest made it feel as if the air had been squeezed from her lungs. “I will come for one month. But after that, any debt I have to you will be paid in full.”