Highland Knight (8 page)

That reluctance troubled her, for it seemed disloyal to Payton. She should be trying her best to flee so that she and Gillyanne could not be used to drag Payton into a marriage he plainly did not want. Avery knew Payton would never fault her for following her own heart, but she suspected she would blame herself, especially if she lost her gamble to win Cameron’s heart. If she won, the whole problem was solved, for Cameron would not let her go, not even in trade. The question was, did she have the right to take even that gamble when Payton could share in the consequences if she lost?

“Now what has ye looking so troubled?” asked Gillyanne as she sat down beside Avery in front of Cameron’s tent. “I was hoping to share my evening’s meal with a much more cheerful companion.”

“I was just thinking that we would probably be able to escape with some ease now, yet I dinnae want to do it,” Avery explained. “Then I got to thinking how unfair, even disloyal, that was to Payton. He doesnae want Katherine, who is clearly a selfish, spoiled liar; yet, if I stay, I could be used to force him to take her.”

“Aye, ye could be, yet ’tis nay your fault.”

“’Tis if I dinnae try to take that weapon away from Cameron.”

“Only a wee bit. Ye love the fool and ye have a chance to make him love you. Payton would understand why ye stayed with Cameron. We also tried to escape—twice.”

“I am nay sure that first attempt should count.”

“There is one thing ye havenae considered as ye have argued with yourself,” Gillyanne said quietly before filling her mouth with a bite of tender venison.

“And what is that?” asked Avery.

“We are but two wee lasses. Aye, we could probably escape. We almost made it the last time. Howbeit, if we succeed in fleeing Cameron we will be two wee lasses all alone, two wee lasses who must then try to find their way from where’er this is to a French port, get a place on a ship headed to Scotland, and then get across Scotland to Donncoill. I dinnae believe Payton would want or expect us to take such risks just to stop his marriage to Katherine. And think how horrible he would feel if anything happened to us whilst escaping.”

The logic of Gillyanne’s argument left Avery speechless. Then she wondered if she accepted it so quickly and completely simply because it allowed her to do what she
wanted. Nay, she mused, Gillyanne was right. No one’s life was at risk in all of this. Payton would not want her and Gillyanne to risk their lives just to save him from an unwanted marriage. True, marriages were forever but for the most part they were not fatal. He would indeed be devastated if anything happened to either of them whilst attempting to save him from an unwanted trip to the altar. Payton would most likely consider all of this his problem, and his alone to solve.

“Ye are right,” Avery finally said, and then she began to eat.

Gillyanne laughed softly. “I think I must needs make some record of this miraculous moment.”

“Impertinent child.”

“Ye are
sure
ye love Sir Cameron, are ye?”

“Oh, aye, e’en when I want to strike him about the head with something hard and heavy.” She exchanged a grin with Gillyanne. “’Tis nay a blind, besotted type of loving. And I dinnae think all will be weel just because
I
love
him
.”

“It should be. Love is a verra precious gift.”

“Aye, and there is certainly joy in the feel of it swelling one’s heart and in the giving of it. Howbeit, giving it doesnae mean one will get it back. And, if one doesnae feel love, one cannae always see it as such a wondrous gift when given to them. I doubt that person can e’en recognize it though it be staring him right in the face.”

“Men can be verra foolish creatures,” Gillyanne muttered as she shook her head. “I so wish ye to be happy.”

“Oh, I will be, if only for a little while.” Avery shrugged. “And e’en if I cannae win his heart, there will still be a part of me which will be happy, for I will have held him for a wee while. Once the pain fades—and it will—the memories will be sweet.”

Watching a frowning Cameron approach them, Gillyanne murmured, “Somehow the word
sweet
, e’en if ye only speak of the memory of him, just doesnae sit weel on that mon.”

Avery shared a laugh with Gillyanne. When their amusement only made Cameron frown more darkly and watch them warily, she laughed a little more. She could not help but find some pleasure in the fact that such a large, strong man would find her and Gillyanne a threat, even if it was only to his peace of mind.

She kissed Gillyanne on the cheek, watched her cousin walk away, and turned a bright, welcoming smile on Cameron. He could not fully hide his surprise and uncertainty. And this was only the beginning, she thought with an inner chuckle. Unless she weakened and Cameron somehow took the lead in the game they were about to play, she planned to make the poor man nearly dizzy with confusion. They would become lovers tonight, but Avery intended to take that step completely under her own power. Cameron might still try to claim a victory after tonight, but he was going to have to do some very twisted thinking to convince himself of it.

She was plotting. Cameron was certain of it. There was a suspicious gleam in her eyes, and she was being far too sweet. Since there was no way she could escape now that they were in his tent and soon to bed down for the night, he could not guess what her game might be—and it made him very uneasy. Perhaps there was something she wanted and she was going to try to use her feminine wiles to get it. Although that did not seem like something Avery would do, he frowned even more. All females were born knowing such games, he sternly reminded himself. She would find that he was not so susceptible to such ploys.

As she slowly began to undress, he felt his desire for her rapidly soar. This was taunting, pure and simple. He was sure of it. No woman could be so naive as to think she could shed even some of her clothing in front of a man without stirring his interest. After the long, torturous days and nights he had spent trying to seduce her, Avery certainty could not be so unaware of the effect such actions would have upon him. She was crippling him, and he was sure the little wretch knew it.

Well, two could play at that game, he decided. He might be half mad with an unsatisfied hunger, but he knew he had seen the gleam of interest in her eyes from time to time. He had felt the heat of her desire. She might be fighting it, but the hunger was there. Cameron was sure of it. And if she could torment him, then he could torment her.

Avery swallowed hard as Cameron started to take off his clothes. Her weakness for him was going to make it very hard to maintain the upper hand in this game. The sight of his lean, hard body heated her blood, made her ache to touch him, to taste him, to wrap her body tightly around his. With so many brothers and male cousins, she had seen many an example of the male form. It struck her as a little strange that seeing Cameron’s should make her knees tremble with weakness, should inflame her lusts until she felt nearly dazed. She quickly averted her eyes, fighting for control of her errant desire. This was to be
her
game,
her
seduction, and she had no intention of letting her own weaknesses cause her to lose control of the situation.

Once stripped to her chemise and braies, she moved to wash up. It was not easy to decide what her next step should be. She really had little idea of how to seduce a man. It was not something she had ever done or ever even thought about. In fact, she had little experience with lusting or being lusted after. She was too slim and too strange-looking. She had occasionally caught a faint gleam of interest in a man’s eyes, only to watch it fade as some full-breasted, pale-skinned lass tripped by. Men obviously liked a woman with some flesh on her bones, with breasts that bounced, and with nicely rounded hips that swayed as she walked. Avery suspected she would never have so lush a shape. She knew that Cameron’s blatant desire for her too-slender form, a form too often ignored and occasionally ridiculed, only made it all the harder to resist him. It was heady indeed to be so desired.

Sensing that Cameron watched her, Avery unlaced her chemise a little. She slowly eased the damp rag she held inside to wash her breasts and under her arms. Cameron’s breathing grew a little louder, a little uneven. Loosening her braies, she slid the cloth beneath them to wash her nether regions. Avery could almost feel the heat of his stare. Humming softly to herself, she took her time in washing off her arms and her legs. Although she was not sure how such a mundane activity could arouse a man, she had no doubt that Cameron was aroused. She could almost smell the hunger growing inside him.

“Are ye trying to bestir me to madness?” Cameron demanded, thinking that, for an innocent, Avery seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of what could make a man dazed with need.

His deep voice, raspy and thick with unmistakable passion, seemed to enter Avery’s veins, heating her blood. “I but try not to take the stench of a day’s hard work to bed with me.”

“Ye didnae stink.”

“Mayhap my nose is a wee bit more sensitive than yours.”

“And mayhap ye taunt me.”

Although Avery tightened the laces on her braies, she left the ones on her chemise loosened as she turned to face him. She fought the urge to look and see just how much of herself she was revealing when his gaze fixed upon her chest and stayed there. His black eyes gleamed with desire, his chest rose and fell heavily from the deep, unsteady breaths he took, and his hands were clenched into tight white-knuckled fists at his side. The knowledge that she, thin little Avery, could put such a beautiful man into such a state was an intoxicating thing. So heady and inflaming that she had to forcibly subdue the urge to fling herself into his arms. Avery sternly reminded herself that her plan was to seduce, not to surrender.

“Taunt ye?” she murmured. “I havenae said a word.”

He grunted, a short, harsh sound rife with disbelief. “Ye have said more than enough, lass, though ye speak nary a word. Ye cannae be so naive that ye think ye can behave so right before my eyes and nay stir any response. Nay, no lass could be that blindingly innocent or ignorant of a mon.”

“Innocent, ignorant and naive. Ye make it sound as if I am thrice cursed.”

“I begin to think ’tis I who am cursed.”

Avery decided she had made her resistance far too clear, for Cameron seemed unable to realize there had been a distinct change in her attitude. Seducing him was not going to be easy if he was going to blame her every move or word on naïveté, innocence, or ignorance, or some other less flattering motive. Avery tried to recall what she had heard some of the men in her family say they liked, what little she had managed to observe. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she stepped closer to him and placed her hand on his broad, smooth chest.

Cameron broke out in a sweat. He looked at that small, delicate hand on his chest, the small tips of each long finger feeling like a brand on his skin, then looked at her. There was a look of innocence and curiosity in her lovely eyes, but there was also the gleam of a challenge there. Was she daring him to act upon the lust raging through his body just so she could then deny him? It was a game he had the misfortune of enduring before: the favors held just out of reach, offered then withdrawn until he promised some reward. Yet instinct told him Avery would not play such a game, if only because she had no idea how much power she could have over a man—over him. That left him uncertain of just what she was doing, however.

“Cursed, are ye?” she asked, her voice low and husky. “Have the black fairies set a spell upon ye, then?”

“I begin to think so,” he murmured, and he could not stop himself from placing his hand over hers, holding her small warm hand where it was. “This is certainly a torment worthy of their ilk.”

“I have been called many things, but ne’er a torment.”

“Then the men about Donncoill are blind or complete fools.”

“Flattery, Cameron? ’Tis a momentous occasion, this.” She placed her free hand at his waist with what she hoped was an air of idleness, as simply a means to steady herself since he kept her other hand captive beneath his.

“Ye are an impertinent wee lass.” He took a quick, sharp breath when she lightly stroked his side. “Ye play with fire, lass. In truth, I find myself most uncertain of just what game ye are playing.”

“Who says this is a game I play?”

She trailed her fingers across his belly. His grip on her other hand tightened almost painfully as he trembled. It astounded her that she could so affect this man, but she quickly smothered a twinge of unaccustomed vanity. For all she knew, the man was simply hot of blood, easy to arouse, and there was his lengthy celibacy to consider.

For a brief moment Avery hesitated in her subtle assault on his senses. She dearly wished to believe Anne’s assurances that Cameron’s lust was stirred by Avery Murray alone, but that did indeed seem vain, especially since she had never stirred a man’s lusts before. Nay. She inwardly shook her head. She would not falter now. Although she might not emerge from this first joining as the conqueror, she would still hold the honors of having approached him first, of having touched him first, of having stirred his desire to a feverish level ere he had even begun to stir hers. She would also hold the honors of being the first woman he had held in an intimate embrace for three long years. Avery circled his navel with one finger and felt his muscles clench beneath her touch.

“Jesu, lass, much more and I willnae heed any
nay
ye might think to utter,” he warned, his voice little more than a groan of need.

“And mayhap I willnae utter one.”

It was almost impossible to subdue a squeak of surprise when he suddenly grasped her by the arms and, in one tidy, graceful move, had her down on the bed, his long, hard body sprawled on top of hers. Then she was caught up in how good he felt there, her body welcoming the weight of his, his warmth seeping into her veins; and the faint tickle of fear she felt vanished. This was what she wanted. It might be nearly impossible to hold the upper hand in what was to happen now, but she knew she had pushed him to the edge, knew that no matter what lies he told himself later, a part of him would always know that she had not surrendered what he wanted, that she had given it to him.

Uttering a soft growl, Cameron kissed her. It was a hard, fierce kiss, which proclaimed his hunger as clearly as the hard length beneath his loincloth did. Avery wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with an equal hunger. She echoed the shudder that went through him. Avery wondered if such ferocity, such near desperation, was a good thing considering this was to be her first time; then he brushed his thumb over the hard, aching tip at her breast and she ceased to think at all.

Cameron struggled to unlace her chemise, his hands so unsteady that he was embarrassingly clumsy. His only consolation was that Avery appeared to be as desperate as he was—so desperate that she was blind to his awkwardness. Finally he slid his hands down to the embroidered hem of the thin chemise and began to edge it up her body, following its ascent with kisses, strokes of his tongue, and gentle, lightly grazing bites. When he finally bared her breasts, he was so enraptured by the sight, he had to shake himself slightly to recall the need to finish removing the garment.

He tossed the chemise aside and proceeded to look his fill, gently pinning her wrists to their rough bed when she tried to cover herself. Her breasts were not the large, ripe ones he had always favored in the past, but he deemed them perfection: high, firm, round as an apple, and topped with a large nipple colored an invitingly rich pink. His mouth watered.

Fighting to calm his need to a more controllable level from the blinding height it had risen to, he studied the rest of her lithe shape. Her skin was a warm, light-golden hue all over. Suddenly, frustrated by the small braies she wore, he clasped both her wrists in one hand, then wrenched that last piece of covering from her slender body. His breath caught almost painfully in his throat as he looked over the slim shapeliness of her hips and every inch of her surprisingly long, slender, faintly muscular legs. Then his hungry gaze settled on the neat triangle of golden-brown curls at the juncture of her beautiful thighs and he groaned. There lay heaven, and he knew it was going to take every ounce of his self-restraint to stop himself from taking her too quickly. He was shaking with the need to bury himself in her heat, immediately and deeply, but a lingering thread of sanity kept reminding him that she was a virgin, that she needed gentleness and preparation.

With his free hand he removed his loincloth; then he slowly lowered his trembling body onto hers. The feel of her silken flesh touching his left him struggling to breathe. Cameron did not think he had ever been so inflamed. He had never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted this one. Even the scent of her, the heady mix of lavender, clean skin, and feminine arousal, made him nearly mad with need. Seeing a hint of unease enter her passion-warmed eyes, he quickly kissed her as he released his hold on her hands. To his relief, she immediately wrapped her strong, slim arms around him.

The baring of her body had made Avery nearly cringe, but the heat of his gaze had swiftly burned away her shyness and uncertainty. His blatant appreciation of the shape so many had scorned made her feel nearly beautiful. The way his warm, taut flesh felt against her body had her fighting for an even breath. Instinct told her that, if she gained some control over her passion, it would aid Cameron in gaining some control over his. Although her body ached with greed for him, she did not want her first time to be too hurried, too frantic. Then he touched his soft, warm lips to her breast, and she wondered if she even had the strength of will to slow things down a little.

So sharp was the pleasure that raced through her when Cameron licked the hard tip of her breast Avery cried out. She clutched his strong arms in a vain attempt to steady herself as he laved and suckled greedily. An ache grew low in her belly and she felt compelled to rub against him. The feel of his erection against her mons only made her feel more agitated, more needy. She slid her hand down his side, then between their bodies to clasp him. He felt so hard, yet the skin there was silken smooth. Avery stroked him and was a little startled when he gasped out a curse, bowed his body away from hers, and pulled her hand away.

“Nay, lass, keep those wee hands to yourself or I will be finishing this dance ere ye have had a chance to enjoy it,” Cameron said.

Avery was not sure she understood what he meant. Then he stroked his big hand over her stomach and slid it between her legs. Avery doubted that she would notice now if he spoke nothing but gibberish. The feel of his long, callused fingers stroking her so intimately had her thrashing, fighting the feelings pounding through her, yet eager for them, afraid of what was happening to her, yet greedy for more.

“Jesu, lass, ye are already wet with welcome,” he said, his voice hoarse and unsteady.

“Are ye just going to discuss it or are ye going to do something about it?” she challenged, not surprised to hear how thick and husky her own voice was, but only that she still had the wit left to speak at all.