The Highlander's Stolen Bride Read online

  For long moments, no sound would be heard but his heavy breathing and the lapping of water around their entwined bodies. She would open to him, bring him in deep to the hilt and sink down again, her flesh quivering with pleasure, the ride slow and torturous until spasms pulsed around him, tightening in delicious torrents until he tipped his head back and groaned.

  “Thank you for the offer,” she murmured breathlessly, “but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  A roguish half-grin lifted the corner of his lips. “Do you realize how much time we spend thanking each other?”

  Rosalyn couldn’t help a smile of her own. “Quite a bit, I believe.”

  “One might think we’re avoiding something else.”

  “Like what?” But she knew. The sexual connection between them had been flame-hot from the start.

  “I can think of any number of things, none of which I feel inclined to discuss just now,” he replied in a husky tone.

  Rosalyn’s heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes and her breathing grew shallow as he drew nearer. “Perhaps I should take my bath.”

  Derek wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against his chest. “I know I said I wouldn’t do this again,” he groaned against her lips, “but I can’t seem to help myself.”

  His mouth settled over hers, gently at first, but becoming more demanding. He was insistent, and her hands instinctively lifted to his shoulders to grip the hard band of muscle and hold on for dear life.

  Her dress slid unheeded to puddle at her feet. Derek kicked it away and lifted her snug against his body, so that all she could feel and taste was him.

  Rosalyn whimpered as his mouth plundered hers. He was a hot, hard brand, burning her with his heat. She felt ravaged and desirable and on fire—and she didn’t want him to stop.

  She grasped fistfuls of his shirt as his lips and tongue moved down her throat, sending swirls of sensation to the pit of her belly. She had never experienced anything like this.

  Then she was tumbling back, falling onto the soft bed as Derek sprawled on top of her, pinning her there with his weight, heavy and divine.

  She twined her fingers in his silky hair, gripping the coal black strands as he feathered kisses down to the soft swells of her breasts. Her skin was covered by nothing more than her shift, a single pink ribbon the only barrier between his seeking mouth and her swollen nipples.

  Her entire body pulsated with excitement, the sensations rising to a boiling point as his mouth moved down her neck, along her collarbone…and down the cleft between her breasts.

  “Derek,” she moaned, knowing with that single utterance what she was asking for. She didn’t care.

  Her plea seemed to throw cold water on his ardor, as he suddenly stopped and looked down at her. “Jesus,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

  Rosalyn cupped his cheek, feeling the tickle of his whiskers. She tried to make him look at her, but he wouldn’t. Instead he rolled off her and lay beside her on the bed, staring at the canopy above their heads.

  He was silent for long moments before finally saying, “The blame is entirely mine. I said this wouldn’t happen again, and it appears I am a liar. I want to tell you this is the last time, but Christ…I can’t be sure.”

  His gaze slid to hers. “The plain fact is, I want you. Perhaps my motives weren’t as altruistic as I believed them to be when I came to your aid in London.”

  He shook his head and sat up. “I’ll understand if you want to leave. I can make arrangements in the morning. Perhaps that’s what I should have done from the start.” As he stood up Rosalyn reached for him, but he stepped away. “I’ll send Caroline up in an hour for your decision.” Then he left, the door closing quietly behind him.

  Rosalyn laid back down and hugged herself. She was as much to blame as Derek believed himself to be. She should have sent him away when he offered to undo her buttons, but she hadn’t the strength to do so.

  She was tired of feeling as she did; hungry for him, her needs only fulfilled in her deepest dreams. She wanted Derek, and he had just made it clear that he wanted her.

  Perhaps it was time to make herself clearer. As honorable as Derek was, she suspected he did not want to find himself leg-shackled merely because he desired her. Rosalyn was not so naive that she didn’t understand that a great fuss could be made about the four little letters before her name.

  Lady.

  She was Lady Rosalyn. Not the village milkmaid, not the vicar’s daughter, but the daughter of an earl. Dalliances of the kind she had almost experienced with Derek generally ended with a ring on a girl’s finger. But she didn’t want marriage, and she suspected that Derek was not ready for it, either.

  Rosalyn stood up and paced the room, contemplating her options. She should tell Derek that she would leave in the morning. His offer meant she needn’t steal away from the house in the middle of the night, which—if she were honest with herself—had not seemed particularly appealing.

  The path suddenly seemed so obvious: she would become Derek’s mistress! Why deny herself? Her future was murky at best, and if Calder succeeded in his plans, she didn’t have to worry about a future. What good would her virtue do her if she were dead?

  And if Derek prevailed and Calder scampered away with his tail between his legs, then she would have the memory of her time with Derek to take with her.

  Yes, it was all very clear. For the first time in a long while, no doubts troubled her.

  Rosalyn rang for the maid. When the girl appeared, Rosalyn said, “Could you tell Lord Manchester that I must speak to him?”

  “Shall I tell him that ye’ll join him in the study, miss?”

  Thinking it best not to get tongues wagging, especially if Derek preferred to keep their liaison a secret, Rosalyn replied, “Is there a courtyard? It is such a beautiful night, I believe I would like a stroll.”

  “Aye, miss. Ye go straight out the French doors.” She pointed toward the far wall and Rosalyn noted the doors framed by lovely burgundy damask drapes and sheer ivory curtains.

  Walking over to them, Rosalyn pushed back the curtain and looked out. The sky was pure black, with only the gleam of a full moon to cut through the darkness. It shone down on a cobblestone pathway that wound around thick hedges and scattered rosebushes until disappearing from sight behind the edge of a hawthorn tree.

  It was perfect.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Rosalyn said to the maid, “Please tell his lordship to meet me in the courtyard in a half hour. Then if you would be so kind to return to help me dress.”

  “Aye, miss.” The girl bobbed and departed.

  Rosalyn turned back and looked out into the midnight sky, a slow heat beginning to unfurl inside her. With a smile, she hastened to her trunks and got to work.

  Nine

  D erek stood in front of the fireplace in his bedroom, the blackened bricks and the faint smell of soot all that remained of past fires.

  He glanced at his reflection in the mirror above the mantel. “You’re a bloody bugger, old man. Can’t even keep control around an innocent female.” He shook his head. “Damn disgrace. Might as well call in your markers and tell the lads you’re leaving the club.”

  The Pleasure Seekers never dallied with “ladies” and innocents, which made adhering to that rule fairly easy since each seemed generally exclusive to the other.

  But not this time. Not with Rosalyn. She was both a lady and an innocent, as well as thoroughly enchanting and completely unpretentious.

  The fact that her beauty did not affect her character made her that much more desirable. It made a man look beyond the outward appearance to what existed beneath, which was what Derek found so damn hard to resist.

  He had met and bedded many beautiful women, but he had not yet come across one with a beautiful soul. Lady Rosalyn Carmichael left him at odds with himself.

  A knock sounded on his door.

  “Come,” he barked.

  “Y’r lordship?” a meek voice called fro
m the doorway, bringing Derek’s gaze over his shoulder to find one of the housemaids standing there.

  She stared at him as though she thought flames would spew from his mouth. Margery, he believed was her name, one of the blacksmith’s six daughters.

  “Yes?” he said, tempering his tone. “What is it?”

  She swallowed. “I have a message from the lady.”

  Derek’s body tensed. He hadn’t expected an answer so soon, and he suspected he knew what it was. He had undoubtedly frightened Rosalyn with his passion. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to leave.

  “What is the message?”

  “The miss asked if ye would meet her in the courtyard in half an hour.”

  Derek frowned. The courtyard? Why would she want to meet there? And why hadn’t she taken the convenient way out of her predicament and simply relayed her decision to depart through a disinterested party? He knew she had integrity and a surprising amount of grit, but he’d assumed she’d avoid facing him directly.

  “My lord?” the maid prompted as he stood there mute.

  “Fine,” he said. “The courtyard it is.”

  Derek stared at the closed door for long minutes. He had promised Rosalyn that she would be safe from his advances, and yet the first opportunity he got, he had taken advantage.

  It did no good to think about the fact that she hadn’t struggled, or to recall how sweet and pliant her body had been against his, or how she had responded as though she had been waiting for the kiss, and only wished to scold him for taking so long to get about it. Christ, what was the use in wondering?

  Grabbing his jacket from the chair, Derek shrugged into it. He glanced at the mantel clock. Only ten minutes had passed, but he couldn’t wait another second in his room. He felt caged and edgy. Perhaps she wouldn’t go, she’d give him another chance to prove himself.

  They could play chess and discuss the philosophies of life. He could teach her about the configuration of the stars and planets, and their impact on the universe, and she could tell him stories about her life in Cornwall. They could be…companions.

  Derek grimaced. Nevertheless, he could do it. He prided himself on his ability to follow through on whatever he set his mind to. Should Rosalyn decide to stay, he would apply himself to the task.

  But as he stepped out into the heavily enshrouded night that quickly cloaked him in shadows, Derek couldn’t help but wonder how he would get through even five minutes with Rosalyn without wanting to kiss her.

  Jesus, he was in trouble.

  Rosalyn had checked her appearance in the full-length mirror three times. She had changed even more times. Having never offered herself up as a mistress, she hadn’t a clue what one might wear to prompt a seduction.

  She finally settled on a dress that Lady Dane had bought for her during a shopping outing, insisting that Rosalyn have it. Rosalyn had been captivated by its beauty. The amount of bosom it showed seemed scandalous, which made it absolutely perfect. It was just what a soon-to-be-fallen woman would garb herself in.

  “It grows late, m’lady,” the young maid gently prompted. “His lordship will be waitin’ for ye.”

  “Yes, thank you, Margery.”

  Rosalyn glanced at her reflection one final time. Her heart seemed to miss every third beat and her stomach was tied in a hundred knots. But she would not back down from her course of action now.

  Summoning up a confident smile, Rosalyn turned to the young maid. “Wish me luck, Margery.”

  Margery smiled bashfully in return. “Good luck, miss. I hope ye get whatever y’re lookin’ for. I’m sure his lordship is goin’ tae be speechless seein’ ye dressed as ye are.”

  “You don’t think it’s too much?” Rosalyn asked.

  “No, miss. Ye look regal.”

  A wave of calm rolled over Rosalyn. “Thank you, Margery. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  She turned toward the French doors, the skirt of her dress belling around her as she hastened out into the cool night air.

  The temperature had dipped since she arrived and the breeze nipped at her skin. She should have brought her shawl along. What good would her proposition do if she contracted the ague?

  Her mind whirled as she followed the path leading to her rendezvous. Would he reject her offer out of hand? Or accept quickly?

  Head up, Rosalyn continued on, lulled by the sound of crickets and the gentle tapping of her heeled slippers against the cobblestone walkway.

  She didn’t see Derek as she entered the courtyard, as he was partially hidden under a tall pine tree, but Derek saw her and he was awestruck by her transformation.

  The woman standing in a pool of moonlight with her golden blond hair in a luscious, loose wave down her back and her creamy shoulders sprinkled with stardust could not be the innocent young lady he had found himself increasingly fascinated with during the weeks since he had first met her.

  This woman was self-assured and tantalizing, a female who could easily command any man’s attention. Had they been standing in a ballroom, every male would be lined up for a dance and a chance to win her affections.

  He knew in that moment that he couldn’t keep away, either. Rosalyn glimmered like the brightest light in the sky, and all he wanted was to get close to her.

  He quietly moved in behind her, hearing her soft sigh carried on the cool evening wind. He shrugged out of his jacket when he saw her shiver.

  “Cold?” he murmured in her ear.

  She swung around with a gasp, a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”

  “I apologize. I should have announced my presence, but I didn’t want to break the spell. I was rendered speechless by you.”

  She stared at him with luminous blue eyes.

  He looked down into those deep pools for a long moment before his gaze slid over her. “You are beautiful.” The word was woefully inadequate—she was radiant, the most dazzling star in the sky.

  A blush heated her cheeks. “You mean the dress.”

  “The dress is…stunning.” He couldn’t help studying her again, noticing the lush fullness of her breasts, the nipped-in waist, the way the material skimmed over her slim thighs. “But it’s the woman wearing the dress that takes my breath away.”

  Her smile was brilliant. “Thank you.”

  “I hope you’ll forgive me if I inquire as to the occasion.”

  They had arrived at the heart of the matter sooner than Rosalyn had expected, and she took a deep breath. “It seemed a night for dressing up.”

  “I’m honored, and I’ll confess that I’m glad I’m the only one who gets to see you looking this way.” He paused. “Dare I hope that you’ve forgiven my behavior earlier?”

  “It’s forgotten.”

  “But not forgiven? I don’t blame you, and I’ll understand if you want to leave. I hope you will at least accept my apology.”

  “There’s no apology necessary. I…” Rosalyn took another breath, trying to calm her racing nerves. “I wanted the kiss as much as you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Surely you can tell that I’m…that I feel…”

  Derek cupped her chin. “What do you feel?”

  Rosalyn lifted her gaze to his, and found him as dark and mysterious as the midnight sky framing him. “I feel weak and strong, all at the same time. I feel incredibly bold and terribly frightened. I’ve never felt this way before.”

  “I feel it, too. I told myself to leave you alone. I thought I could. But then you walked into the courtyard, and I realized that all my hopes were in vain. I can’t stay away from you.”

  “What should we do about it?”

  “There’s nothing we can do. You’re here under my protection.”

  Rosalyn slid her hands up his chest, his white linen shirt cool beneath her fingertips. “Perhaps I don’t want to be protected,” she said softly against his lips. “At least not from you.”

  “Rosalyn,” he said, an ache in his voice as he wrapped his fingers lightly around he
r wrists to remove her hands, which nearly made Rosalyn falter.

  “Hear me out. Please.”

  He stilled, except for his thumbs, which lightly caressed her skin, belying his desire to end what was brewing between them.

  She leaned closer, her breasts lightly grazing his chest, which brought his gaze down to the soft mounds.

  The dress had amazing boosting powers, giving her incredible fullness. Her flesh quivered with each breath she took. When Derek’s gaze returned to her face, there was an intensity in his eyes that took her breath away.

  “I’ve done a lot of thinking,” she said, slowly sliding her hands down to the V of his shirt, where a tantalizing patch of bronze skin warmed her fingertips.

  “And what have you been thinking about?”

  “Us,” she said, lifting the unbuttoned edge of his shirt and glimpsing the hard flesh of his chest.

  “What about us?” he asked, a husky rasp to his words.

  “Well…we’ve both confessed that there is an attraction. And I thought that perhaps”—she rose up on tiptoe and boldly grazed his jaw with her lips—“you’d like to explore that attraction with me.”

  He took hold of her shoulders and stepped away from her. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “What do you think I’m saying?”

  “Jesus, Rosalyn, don’t play games with me.”

  “I guess I’m not very good at this. I don’t have a great deal of practice seducing men—this is my first time.”

  “Well, you did a damn fine job for your first time.” He shook his head in confusion. “You’re seducing me? This is priceless. I don’t know whether to turn you over my knee, or—”

  “Or what?”

  “Never mind. What possessed you to—”

  “Proposition you?”

  “Yes. And it better not have anything to do with the reason you wore this dress.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this isn’t you. You’re sweet and gentle—and innocent,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

  If he only knew. “Perhaps I don’t wish to be any of those things anymore.”

  “It has nothing to do with not wanting to be that way. You are that way, and many men would kill for those qualities. Not every woman possesses them.”