The Highlander's Stolen Bride Page 17

  Rosalyn blinked back tears and stared at him. “I don’t care about myself. It’s you I’m worried about. You could have been killed.”

  “I told you, Kerry wouldn’t have done anything to me. But I guess you didn’t know that, did you?” He cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer to him.

  “Derek…”

  He silenced her with a passionate kiss. Rosalyn had not realized until then how much she needed his touch and reassurance. She was so very glad to have him there, alive and safe and whole.

  Her hands drifted to his chest. His flesh was hot and hard beneath her gently probing fingers, which slid up to his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. Her body ached for him. She wanted to reaffirm life, to feel his hands and mouth soothing her fears.

  When he abruptly pulled back, Rosalyn didn’t understand why—until she heard the sound of Nathaniel’s running feet, a scant second before he barreled into the room, out of breath and holding the needle and thread, which he proudly held up.

  “’Tis the only thing Mama would let me carry,” he stated, rushing up to the bed, his intent gaze surveying Derek to make sure he was still well.

  Derek lightly buffeted the boy’s arm. “That’s a good lad. You do know I’ll be fine, don’t you?”

  Nathaniel nibbled the inside of his lip. “Mama said you were too stubborn to die.”

  It seemed an odd remark, Rosalyn thought, and yet true. Derek was a fighter. “Your mother is right,” she said, smiling gently at Nate.

  She brushed the hair back from his face as his mother entered the room carrying a silver tray. She came to a stop upon spotting Derek, her face growing pale. Rosalyn thought the woman was about to faint, but the moment came and went.

  “What was I right about?” Caroline asked in an oddly chipper tone as she put the tray down on the bedside table.

  Nathaniel looked up at his mother. “That the laird is too stubborn to die.”

  “Nathaniel!” she scolded, a flush heating her cheeks. “My apologies, m’lord. He talks too much. I—”

  Derek raised his hand to stop her. “It’s all right. I understood what he meant.”

  Rosalyn reached out and took the tray from Caroline. “Thank you.” She smiled, hoping to put Caroline at ease, but got a distrusting look back.

  Rosalyn wished the woman didn’t see her as the enemy, and it would take considerable effort to remedy that.

  “Will there be anythin’ else ye’ll be needing?” Caroline asked, her bearing rigid as she pulled Nathaniel against her side.

  “No, thank you,” Derek said.

  She inclined her head, and they watched her leave with her son.

  Rosalyn glanced down at the needle and thread in her hands. “She cares for you.”

  “I know. But there’s nothing between us.”

  Rosalyn nodded, wanting to drop the subject. She threaded the needle. “Turn your head to the right, please,” she said.

  He wouldn’t need many stitches, but he would need something to dull the pain. She retrieved the bottle and his glass, and after adding more alcohol, she handed it to him. “Drink this, please.”

  “Later,” he said, guiding her arm to the table, where he plucked the glass from her fingers and sat it down. “Let’s just get this over with. I promise I’ll be brave.”

  If he was going to be brave, so must she. She decided to distract them both by talking.

  “Have you any ideas as to who might be doing this to you?”

  “Not one.” He hissed low between his teeth as she pricked him. “If I must rule out Ethan, then I don’t know who could be behind it. But I intend to find out. One more clubbing over the head, and I’m bound to be dimwitted for life.” It was just like him to make light of the situation. “But there is one thing I know conclusively.”

  “And what’s that?” she asked, concentrating on the last stitch, breathing a sigh of relief as she snipped the thread.

  “I know that you are moving much closer to my room. In fact, into the room adjoining mine. I want to keep an eye on you.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  Before he could reply, the bedroom door burst open and Darius stood on the threshold, breathing heavily.

  “What is it?” Derek demanded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

  Darius waved a piece of paper. “It’s from London,” he said in a winded voice. “It’s Carew.”

  His butler? Derek rose to his feet. “What about him?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Nineteen

  D erek stared blankly at his uncle. “What?”

  “He’s dead. His body was found in an alleyway yesterday morning.”

  Rosalyn put a hand over her mouth, shocked and horrified.

  “What happened?” Derek demanded.

  Darius leaned wearily against the door. “He was murdered.”

  “Jesus.” Derek ran a hand through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. “How?”

  His uncle hesitated. “I don’t think we should be speaking about this in front of Lady Rosalyn.”

  Derek turned, and Rosalyn could see how truly devastated he was. His gaze was blank, as though he had forgotten she was even there.

  “This isn’t for your ears,” he said. “I’ll have your belongings moved to your new room.” To Darius, he said, “I want her closer to me. There’s someone on the loose in this house, and until they are apprehended, I want Rosalyn watched at all times.”

  Darius nodded.

  “You need not treat me like a child,” Rosalyn told him. “I want to know what happened to Carew.”

  “It’s not pleasant, lass,” Darius warned.

  “I can take it. Please finish what you were saying.”

  Darius looked to Derek, who sighed and nodded. “His throat was cut,” his uncle answered flatly.

  Rosalyn fought to keep the terrible image at bay. No one deserved to die so horribly.

  “His pockets were turned out, but there wasn’t anything taken. So the motive doesn’t seem to be robbery.”

  Derek lowered his head and massaged his brow. “I want Bow Street runners, every damn one that’s not tied up finding Westcott for me. I don’t care who we have to bribe or corrupt.” His head came up, his eyes dark and turbulent. “I want them to find out who did this and why.”

  “Aye,” Darius murmured with a heavy sigh.

  “And I want Carew’s body brought here. He would have wanted to be buried next to his wife.” Derek gripped the bedpost, his knuckles white. “Christ. I left him behind to close up the house. He would have been coming here in a few days.”

  Rosalyn laid a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “He was owed my protection, just like you and Darius and Nathaniel and the rest of this clan.”

  “You’re stretched too thin. You can’t protect everyone.”

  “He was a harmless old man.”

  “You can’t bring him back, but you can give him a proper burial and let him rest in peace.”

  Derek nodded absently. “I want a burl wood coffin. The old codger loved burl wood. And I want him decked out in his finery. I don’t care about the expense.”

  Darius assured him it would be done and left to make the arrangements.

  Derek moved to the corner of the room and dropped down into a chair, his legs thrown out in front of him and his head in his hands.

  “What the hell is happening to my life?” he said, more to himself than her.

  Rosalyn quietly sank to her knees in front of him, taking his hand in hers. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me. These things didn’t start happening until I arrived. Kerry wanted your blood because he thought you wanted me instead of Megan.”

  “I do.”

  Rosalyn sat back, her hand loosening in his. “What?”

  “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you across a crowded ballroom. I was never meant for Megan; forces just propelled us in that direction. I’m tired of fighting it, Rosalyn, and I don’t gi
ve a damn what anyone else thinks. It’s my life, and I want you in it.”

  Rosalyn was stunned. While her heart soared with his revelation, her mind revolted. She stood up and moved away, staring at the books on his shelf but not seeing a single title.

  She heard him rise from the chair and braced herself for whatever was next. His fingers brushed the base of her neck, caressing her skin. She didn’t want to respond, yet her stomach jumped as though he had harnessed lightning in his hands, sending sizzling currents along her arms and down her spine.

  Her traitorous body ached for his touch; her nipples strained against the material of her dress. Lord help her, she wanted him to smooth his hands over her shoulders and cup her, to ease those beautiful hands beneath the taut material of her bodice and soothe her, then replace his fingers with his mouth.

  “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice wrapping around her like warm silk.

  Rosalyn turned to face him. He was so beautiful. So strong and solid and real. She wanted him to kiss her, and she didn’t want him to be gentle. She wanted his passion, every rough ounce of it.

  “Please,” she murmured, asking for something she could not bring herself to say.

  His head descended; her every sense was alive and yearning for this moment, knowing that only in his kiss could she find what she sought.

  He cupped her breasts, and she let out a long, low moan as his thumbs swept across the turgid peaks, making her mindless with desire.

  She pushed against him, wanting nothing more than to forget all the pain and fear of the day: his attack by the Trelawnys, Carew’s death. Her inevitable departure from his life. She knew that he, too, wanted to forget.

  A rush of warmth spread between her thighs as he began to weave his sensuous web around her with his mouth and hands. His fingers slipped beneath her blouse and eased the material away, then deftly undid the closures on her skirt, letting it drop to the ground at her feet.

  The lace ties on her chemise were next. The soft cotton got caught on her erect nipples as it slithered off her, baring her breasts to his hungry gaze.

  His large hands gripped her buttocks, pulling her forward. While she watched through passion-glazed eyes, he leaned down and his mouth covered her nipple.

  Rosalyn’s knees weakened as he teased the sensitive tip, circling and lapping, her body quickening with each second.

  Then he moved to her other nipple to lavish it with the same attention, before taking her breasts and pushing them together, drawing one sensitive nub deep into his mouth and suckling.

  Rosalyn thought she moaned his name, but she was so wild with desire that coherent thought had totally deserted her. All she could do was hold on to his shoulders and revel in the pleasure he was giving her.

  He dropped to his knees before her and tugged her toward him, pulling her down on top of him on the floor. He kissed her fiercely, his tongue moving in and out of her mouth the way she wanted his body to do.

  He rolled her to her back and ducked his head to her breasts again. “Yes,” she breathed, as he gently tugged on her nipple while his free hand skimmed up her calf, pausing to stroke the tender flesh behind her knee before resuming the journey along her outer thigh.

  She tore at his shirt, frantic to feel his skin against hers. Her fingers brushed the base of his spine, leaving a path of prickling skin as she slowly drifted around to the front to cup him, stroking his erection through the barrier of his trousers, which together they hastily removed.

  His fingers swept down her stomach, stopping only long enough at her pelvis to make her wild with anticipation. Then he delved into her heat.

  The first touch of his finger against the distended pulse point made Rosalyn cry out with pleasure. Flames of excitement poured through her veins as he massaged her, his mouth creating a warm, wet path between her breasts.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Derek…”

  “Yes, love.” His finger slowed to torturous circles. She wanted him to stroke her faster, but he wanted to torment her, to tease.

  Each time she felt on the brink of heaven, he would purposely ease back, kissing around her nipple, licking beneath her breast, making one taunting sweep with his tongue across the aching tip. Then he would start again, building the tension, the need, until Rosalyn thought she would disintegrate.

  Derek understood her need; he felt on fire with it. It felt as though an eternity had passed since he had last been with her. She made him feel hungry, hot, wanting her with him all the time, and uneasy when she was not.

  She gripped his hair as he sank down between her thighs, teasing the swollen pearl with the tip of his tongue. She arched up, crying out his name, her hands gripping his head as he pushed tighter against her, taking the wet tip into his mouth and sucking as his hands cupped her breasts and teased her nipples, matching the rhythm of his tongue on her throbbing clitoris until he felt her entire body tighten and convulse.

  His desire for her raged through his blood, searing his very skin. He gave her only a moment to recover before settling between her thighs, needing to tell her with his body what he felt in his heart.

  She closed her eyes and released her bottom lip, allowing an erotic sigh to whisper forth. Derek caught the sound with his mouth. Sweat broke out on his body as she squirmed beneath him, the tight points of her nipples teasing his chest as he held his weight on his arms.

  She moved her hips in opposing friction to his. He slowed down to prolong the building fever, wanting her next release to be long and deep, as deep as he ached to go inside her.

  The thought made him half crazy with desire. He increased his pace and dipped his chest lower, so her nipples would make better contact to increase her pleasure.

  He heard her whimpers, felt her writhe beneath him. Her muscles tightened around him like a glove. He lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his flanks, which brought him deeper inside her.

  He rocked her, his thrusts growing frenzied, his body in the throes of a lust so strong it was near to anguish. He forced himself to slow, easing out of her entirely in the next moment.

  A protest sprang to her lips, but then he began to massage the nub between her dewy folds with his shaft as he sucked on her nipples, rapidly taking her to that bright, spiraling place once more.

  She cried out with her second release, her nails digging into his back as he drove into her, his hands gripping her buttocks, pulling her tighter against his groin as he plunged and plundered, her convulsions squeezing him, his body shuddering as he finally found his own release.

  The muscles in his arms shook as he held himself there, lightly kissing Rosalyn’s shoulder. He gently eased out of her and dropped down onto his back beside her, his hand reaching for hers, their fingers entwining.

  Rosalyn allowed herself to enjoy those moments, believing that perhaps things would turn out the way she hoped. There was no reason they could not go on the way they were, as friends and lovers.

  Yet her heart was becoming more and more involved. Even now, if she left, a piece of her would stay in Scotland with Derek.

  But did she have to deny herself a few more weeks? Lose moments like they had just shared? She would ache as badly now as she would then, so why not enjoy a short while longer with him?

  “Marry me, Rosalyn.”

  Rosalyn sat up and stared down at him, certain she had not heard what she thought. “What did you say?”

  “I asked you to become my wife. I’m sure this is not how you envisioned being asked, but the words would not be stopped.”

  Rosalyn’s throat closed up; she felt as though she were suffocating. Frantically, she reached for her discarded clothing, praying she could get out before he said anything else.

  Derek grabbed hold of her arm as she pushed to her feet. “Where are you going?”

  “I can’t talk about this.”

  “Is it too soon? Is that the problem?”

  Rosalyn could barely shake her head. “I told you, marriage isn’t for me.”

/>   “But you never said why.”

  “I did.”

  “You didn’t, and I want to know. I think I deserve that from you.”

  He did, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. She wanted to believe that no matter what, nothing would make him change his mind or his feelings—but the truth would.

  “I knew you were the one for me the first time you looked into my eyes,” he told her. “I don’t understand how it happened. I figured I’d be able to spell out every reason why I loved someone, if I ever did, but it didn’t happen that way.”

  Rosalyn refused to believe him. She couldn’t. “This is about Calder, isn’t it?”

  A scowl gathered between his brows. “What are you talking about?”

  “You think that by marrying me, you’ll be able to better protect me.”

  “I will be able to protect you better, that’s true. Then Westcott can’t fulfill his plan to marry you and kill you for your money. If I had been smarter, I would have thought of it a long time ago. But that’s not what prompted me to ask, Rosalyn. I don’t have to marry you to keep you safe, and this isn’t some sacrifice, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Rosalyn stepped away from him. “I don’t believe you. You only brought up marriage after hearing about Carew. You feel guilty. That’s all this is.”

  “You don’t actually believe that?”

  Rosalyn closed her eyes. “Please…let’s just leave things as they are.”

  Derek tried to pull her into his arms. “Rosalyn, listen to me.”

  Angry tears rushed to her eyes. “I won’t marry you! I don’t love you. Do you understand? I don’t love you!” She jerked from his grasp and spun away, ignoring his demands to come back as she fled out into the hall, running until she found herself outside.

  There, she dropped down on a bench and cried.

  Twenty

  F or the next two days, Rosalyn avoided Derek, refusing to move into the room next to his and spending much of her time in her room.