The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(91)

“No, damn it.” But that’s exactly what he’d thought. He released her, raking his fingers through his hair. “I want you with me. I love you, Muriel. If I could marry you I would. I’m just trying to make the best of a horrible situation. You will never want for anything. I will treat you like a queen. I will care for you as if you were my wife.”

“Except that I shan’t be your wife,” she said matter-of-factly, ignoring the emotion he couldn’t seem to contain. “If you truly loved me, William, you wouldn’t ask this of me. I can forgive you for what you must do; won’t you show me the same respect?” He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. “How do you think I should feel, when you marry and bring your wife here to stay?”

He felt a flicker of hope. “Is that what’s bothering you? I would never do that to you. You will never have to see her. I will send her to a different castle.”

“I see.” She pretended to consider his words. “You are very accommodating. How well you have it all planned out! You seem to have thought of everything. It is a very good offer, and one I’m sure I should regret refusing. But I intend to return to Inverness in one week’s time, and nothing you can say and no amount of gold is going to tempt me to change my mind.”

He believed her. Damn her to Hades, he believed her. Rage roared through his blood, making him mad with it.

Look at her! A willowy, delicate woman. He could crush her in one hand. She wasn’t stronger than he was, damn it, she wasn’t.

His mouth pulled into a cruel semblance of a smile. “What if you have nothing in Inverness to go back to? What then, Muriel? One word from me and Ross will remove his patronage. How long do you think the gentleman physicians of Inverness will let you apprentice in their guild without it?”

But his cruel threat didn’t even elicit the bat of a damned eyelash. Long, thick, doe-like eyelashes that were so feathery soft, like the wings of a butterfly. He thought of how they curved against her cheek when he held her in his arms.

“I don’t suppose very long,” she said quietly. “But it will not change my mind. There will be someplace that needs a healer, someplace that the mighty Earl of Sutherland cannot reach. Even if I have to go to England, I will find a place to make a new life.”

She’d despised England ever since the soldiers had raped her. When he’d found out what had happened to her, he’d made it his personal mission to hunt every one of them down. He’d been cheated only once—one of the men had fallen in battle before he’d found him. That she would rather to go England than be with him …

“You don’t mean it.” But he feared she did. He felt himself lose control, as if the world—his world—were spinning away from him and he was helpless to stop it. He backed her up against the door. “I won’t let you go.”

Their eyes met. He couldn’t think about the way she was looking at him. He didn’t want to put a name to it because he feared it would mean he’d lost her. But how could blue eyes turn so black?

He hated himself for what he was doing—cornering her, using his physical size to intimidate her—but he was too far gone to stop. This was a battle he would not—could not—lose.

She saw it, too. With one long look that shook him more than any blow from a sword, he saw the moment of recognition and acceptance in her eyes.

He’d won … my God, he’d won.

But then a strange look crossed her face. A look that made him feel the first flicker of unease.

“Very well, Will. I will give you what you want.”

He moved back slowly, warily, as if he were watching a snake that was coiled and only pretending to sleep. “You will stay?”

She smiled pityingly. “Is that what you want? I was under the impression you wanted something else from me.”

She unbuckled the plaid that she wore around her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. She began to untie the laces of her gown.

He was so stunned, it wasn’t until the kirtle, too, fell in a heap by the plaid that he realized what she meant. His heart pounded. His mouth suddenly went dry, seeing her standing there in nothing more than a thin shift, her hose, and her soft leather slippers. Oh God …

“Muriel …” His voice was raw as she lifted the hem of her shift to lower her hose and remove her shoes, revealing a seductive hint of long, creamy-smooth, shapely legs.

She arched a brow, a wry look of challenge in an otherwise impassive face. “Is this not what you want, Will? Is this not the offer you have made? I will give you my body and you will give me everything I could want, isn’t that right? Well, let’s start now. Show me. Perhaps you can convince me that the wonder of your lovemaking will be enough?”

He felt the world rocking the way he did when he stepped off a boat after being at sea for too long. Unsteady. Odd. Like something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right, but he was too damned blind to see it. All he could see was the woman he loved standing before him half-naked, giving herself to him.

His blood burned hot through his veins. He’d wanted this for so long.

She moved toward him. Sliding her hands around his neck and letting her br**sts brush against his chest. “You’ll have to forgive me. It’s been some time since I’ve done this.”

His chest knifed. The brutal reminder of what had happened to her burned. He shouldn’t do this. It was wrong.