One Night With the Laird (21 page)

* * *

J
ACK
HAD
NEVER
felt so furious in his entire life. Only the fact that they were standing in the stable yard and were surrounded by grooms and servants who could barely conceal their anticipation of a huge row could restrain him from ringing a peal over Mairi straightaway. Lachlan and Dulcibella MacMorlan might air their grievances in public, he thought grimly, but he had too much regard for Mairi to do that even when she had gone expressly against his wishes.

Her first words to him were not conciliatory, however, and he could feel his temper soar even higher.

“Good evening, Mr. Rutherford,” she said, quite as though she had done nothing wrong. She looked flushed, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright and starry with the exhilaration of the ride. She looked beautiful. Somehow that annoyed Jack all the more when the images in his mind had been of her lying dead in a ditch like Wilfred Cardross. The only thing he could think was that he would never let her out of his sight again.

“Lady Mairi.” He bit out the words. “I wonder if we might speak privately?”

“Of course,” Mairi said. She sounded cool, but Jack could see the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat. She was nervous. Well, she should be.

She turned her back on him and started to walk toward the door that led to the tack room and from there to Lucy’s hothouse and conservatory. Jack nodded to Murdo and Hamish. “Thank you,” he said. At least Mairi had had the sense not to ride alone, but that fact did little to alleviate his anger. She had waited until his back was turned and that was what infuriated him more than anything else.

Mairi was walking faster now. Perhaps she thought she could run away from him. Jack smiled grimly at the prospect of chasing her down Methven’s long corridors. The idea did hold some appeal.

He caught up with her just as she reached the conservatory door and slammed it shut behind them. He knew it was not a particularly private place for a confrontation, but he could not wait any longer. They were immediately encased in the heavy air and gloomy light of the hothouse. It smelled of dry earth and the faint heady scent of lilies. A gardener who was working on the vines by the back wall caught sight of them and moved discreetly away. Jack heard the soft click of the door closing behind him.

He took Mairi’s arm in a tight grip and spun her around to face him. “Perhaps you can explain to me how it is that I ask you not to take any risks yet I find you riding out alone the day after your cousin is murdered?” He realized that his voice was shaking with anger, within an inch of losing control. “Do you, then, have so little regard for your own safety—and for my concerns?”

“Of course not,” Mairi said. She met his gaze fearlessly. Even in his anger Jack liked that about her, that she would not back down. He liked her. Respected her too. But he was still so angry with her he could shake her.

“I took two grooms with me,” she said. “They were both armed and I had a pistol in my saddlebags. I fail to understand your objections.”

“My objections,” Jack said through his teeth, “relate to the fact that I expressly asked you not to venture out until this matter was settled. Had you even thought that your late lamented husband might be behind this? That he might be the one who set up Wilfred Cardross? That he is trying to hurt you?”

He saw by the way that she paled that she had not even considered it. She fell back a step, her eyes searching his face.

“I could not mention it in front of Robert and Donald this morning since I did not wish to break your confidence,” Jack said, his tone softening as he saw her distress, “but you have to consider it, Mairi.”

“No.” Her hand had come up to her throat. Her words were a whisper. “Archie would never hurt me. He is too gentle.”

“Can you be sure of that?” Jack said. He thought she was naive in the extreme. “You are one of only two people who know that he is alive. If he sees you as a threat in some way—”

“No!” Mairi shook her head violently. “I can’t believe it. I
won’t
believe it.” She came up to him. In the hazy light of the conservatory he could see a tiny shadow furrow her brow. “Jack,” she said slowly, “are you
jealous
of Archie?”

“I’m trying to protect you,” Jack said.

“Which does not answer my question.” She stood feet planted firmly, hands on hips. “Be honest with me. Are you?”

Jack was. He realized it with a shock. It had been bad enough when he had thought the man was dead. Everyone seemed to have liked him and painted him as some sort of saint. Now, knowing MacLeod was still alive even if he and Mairi were no longer married, Jack felt a wrenching sense of jealousy.

“I feel possessive.” He pulled her against him, ran his hands down her back and over her buttocks, pulling her against his body. “You’re mine, Mairi. Marry me.”

He felt the shock rip through her. She drew back and stared at him as though he were speaking in an entirely foreign language. To be fair he was almost as surprised as she was. He had been thinking about it since the previous night when he had finally realized the full implications of Lord MacLeod’s plan, but he had not intended to propose in so abrupt a manner. It was not, he realized ruefully, something in which he had any practice at all and he had never anticipated having any.

Mairi opened her mouth. She looked suspiciously as though she was going to argue with him, so Jack kissed her to distract her and after a second she kissed him back, tangling her tongue with his, all hot and sweet and willing. He felt relief then that this must surely mean that she agreed to his proposal; relief, and a sharp desire.

“Jack—” she whispered.

Jack kissed her again, hard and insistently. She made a sweet sound of capitulation deep in her throat and again responded to his kiss with a fervency that stole his breath and made him want to carry her straight up to his chamber and seal their agreement in his bed.

He took a step toward her, trapping her against the wall. He held her gaze as his hand moved down, unfastening the buttons of her jacket one by one. She met his eyes, her chin tilted up defiantly, but beneath his hand he could feel the frantic beat of her heart.

When the jacket was undone he pulled it apart and without preamble pulled the linen shirt from the band of her breeches. She sucked in a breath but kept quite still. There was a defiant glitter in her eyes now and in the jut of that determined little chin.

Jack smiled. He slid his hands beneath the shirt. She wore nothing but a thin shift and through it he could feel the warmth of her skin. With one swift movement he pushed the jacket from her shoulders and drew the shirt over her head. She was shivering now, but not from cold.

Jack pulled the chemise apart, careless of the fastenings. He ran his hands over her breasts and felt her nipples harden against his palms. He heard her catch her breath and he kissed her again, driving his tongue into her mouth, exploring her. He released her only to bend his head to her breasts, nipping, tugging and biting softly and then a little harder against the sensitive skin. She tilted her head back. In the heat of the conservatory her hair was clinging in wisps to the damp skin of her throat and as Jack watched a drop of water ran down between her breasts. The sight was so erotic it already had him at the edge of his control.

“Marry me,” he repeated. The thought of having her in his bed every night was like a dark dream of pleasure.

But then she freed herself from his grasp, slipping away from him. Her eyes were a dark blue, shadowed with passion, but there was something else there in the depths, disappointment, perhaps, or regret. She bent down and picked up her jacket, pulling it together to cover her.

“I cannot marry you,” she said, and there was a wealth of regret in her voice. “I am truly honored that you should wish to marry me because I know that it is not a decision you would make lightly, but I cannot accept.” Her voice changed. There was a pleading note in it now.

“Please try to understand, Jack,” she said. “I was married to a man who did not love me and one day he left me for someone else he did love. I could never take that risk again.”

“I would never be unfaithful to you,” Jack said instantly. “I swear it.” He meant it. It would not be a promise that would be difficult to keep. Yet in the same moment he could see that it was not enough for her.

“But you could not love me either, could you?” Mairi said. Then, as his silence betrayed him: “You could not love me as I love you.”

Jack swallowed hard. He had known she loved him the previous night, he thought, when she had trusted him with all her secrets, turning to him when she was at her most vulnerable. But he did not know how to love her in return. Love had been crushed out of him when he had been little more than a boy.

He took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it, feeling her tremble.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. His voice was rough.

She smiled but her eyes were tired. “I think it’s a little late for that.” She freed herself from his touch very deliberately and stepped away. “I’m not blaming you for anything, Jack. You made me no false promises. I’m not telling you I love you because I want to hear you say the words in return. I’m telling you because I want to be honest with you.” She wrapped her arms about herself as though she were cold even though the air in the conservatory was so humid it felt like a deadweight. “You say that you would never be unfaithful, but without love to bind us, what is there?” She smiled, but he could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes. She would not cry, though, at least not in front of him. She had too much pride for that.

Jack felt fierce regret that he could not give her what she wanted and in the same moment an even more fierce determination that he was not going to let her go even if he could not offer her what she needed, even if he was in no way good enough for her.

“Mairi—” he said.

She shook her head. “I would spend each day wondering if you would find someone you
could
love, Jack,” she said. “I would spend each day wondering if this was the day I would have to let you go. Better to do that now than to lose you when we were wed.” She raised her hand and touched his cheek in the sweetest and most fleeting of caresses and then she turned on her heel and was gone. Jack heard the sound of her footsteps fade into silence and then he was alone.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I
T
WAS
FORTUNATE
that Mairi met no one on her way back to her room because she was crying so hard that she could not really see where she was going. It infuriated her. She knew she had been right to refuse Jack. She just wished it had not been so damned painful.

Jessie was waiting for her. She wondered what on earth she must look like. Her lips were stung red from Jack’s kisses, but her eyes were equally red from crying. Jessie was looking at her out of the corner of her eye. It was clear she was struggling hard not to say anything. Silence was not really her forte.

“Lovers’ quarrel, madam?” she said after a moment.

“Something of the sort,” Mairi said wearily. “Mr. Rutherford proposed to me and I refused him.”

“I hope ye did not,” Jessie said. “I thought the two of you were
already
engaged!” She put her hands on her hips. “Such goings-on as between you and Mr. Rutherford, ma’am! I couldnae stay in your service if ye didnae wed. I’m a respectable girl.”

“I know you are,” Mairi said. “I’m sorry.” She sank down onto the seat in front of the mirror. She looked in what Jessie would no doubt describe as a “right state.” Her hair was tousled, her face flushed and her lips looked swollen. She touched them lightly and felt a voluptuous shiver echo through her. Her body’s indiscriminate response to Jack’s lovemaking just made her feel more despairing. It did not care that he did not love her. It just wanted more sensual pleasure.

She half turned in the seat. “I don’t feel like dinner tonight,” she said. “Please would you draw me a bath? I’ll maybe take supper later.”

“Very well, madam,” Jessie said.

When the maid had gone out Mairi quickly slipped the jacket off, throwing it to one side with the shirt and the breeches. She resumed her seat before the mirror, naked now but for her drawers, and examined her body with curiosity and more than a little awareness. The skin of her neck was stung pink in places where Jack’s stubble had rubbed against her. Lower, her breasts also showed tiny pink marks where Jack had pressed those delicious tiny biting kisses over her skin. Her nipples were still swollen and aroused. She plucked at them and felt an echo of the pleasure that Jack’s touch had brought her.

She sighed. She had wanted Jack very much. It was exciting to be desired with such fierce passion after so many barren years, but it was not sufficient to sweep away her scruples over a loveless marriage.

There was a knock at the door. It sounded accusatory as though Jessie thought she might have been getting up to all sort of wickedness as soon as her back was turned. Mairi grabbed her robe and slipped it on, tying it at the waist.

“Come in.”

The bath was deliciously hot. Methven might be a medieval castle in origin, but Robert had spared no modern expense when it came to heat and warmth. Mairi was most appreciative. She sank back in the water and let it take the knots of tension from her neck and shoulders. She also let it wash away the niggling worry that Jack might actually be right about Archie being the one who was hunting her. She could not believe that he would set out to kidnap or murder her. It seemed an absurd idea. He had always been the most gentle of souls, with a hatred of cruelty and violence. Besides, he had loved her. Not as a husband did, never as a husband, but as a true friend. It was the friend that she had mourned when Archie had left her, that and the loss of trust.

She could feel her shoulders tightening again and consciously turned her thoughts away from Archie, letting her mind float free as she sank deeper into the scented water. She thought again of Jack and all that she had learned at his hands. He had shown her how much pleasure could be found in exploring the sensuality in her own nature. It had been a revelation.

The thought woke the arousal in her body that had scarcely been lulled by the caress of the scented water. She felt the knot tighten in her belly and a pulse beat between her thighs. Grabbing her robe, she stood up and stepped out of the bath, wrapping the material around her, feeling it cling to her skin as the water soaked through. Every touch of the cloth on her felt like a caress. Her body felt ripe and languid, heavy with desire.

She walked slowly across to the bed and lay back against her pillows, allowing her wrap to fall open, parting her legs, slipping a hand between her folds, stroking. She had been alone for so many years, forever really, since she and Archie had had no physical relationship. Sometimes this had given her release. She thought of Jack, imagining him teasing her nipples with his fingers and his tongue and his teeth, running his hands down her body, driving her to extremes of pleasure. The delicious ache started to build inside her, taking the latent arousal and spinning it into something stronger.

She opened her eyes, raised her gaze to the mirror. Her hair was tumbled over her bare breasts and her legs were splayed. She looked lewd and it was exciting. Then her gaze focused on the rest of the reflection and she almost screamed. In the mirror she could see Jack, standing in the dressing room doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame, watching her. For a second she thought he must be a fantasy, conjured by her wicked thoughts. Then he spoke.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you forgot to lock the door.”

He prowled forward into the room. His gaze was all over her, hot and smothering. She could barely breathe. She felt extraordinarily embarrassed and at the same time excited almost out of her skin to have been caught like this by him.

He came toward her until he was no more than a few feet away. His gaze raked her, lingering on her tousled hair, her flushed face, the open robe, the parted thighs.

“Were you thinking of me?” he asked softly.

Shame swept through her. She did not want to have to admit that even though she had walked away from him, she still wanted him.

He leaned down and braced a hand on either side of her against the bed head.

“Well?” he said. He dropped his hands to her shoulders. She was still wearing the robe and his touch was hot through it.

“Yes,” Mairi whispered, and saw the flare of triumph in his eyes and heat, and hunger.

“Marry me, then,” he said.

She raised her chin a notch. “No,” she said.

She saw a flash of brilliant amusement in his eyes. “You need to learn to surrender control,” he said.

He pulled her toward him, running a hand into her hair to hold her still as he kissed her again, long and deep, plundering her mouth. It was delicious and as carnal as she could ever have desired, his fingers teasing the sensitive tips of her breasts as a tight knot of lust pulled in her belly. She wanted to tell him to leave, but at the same time she could not bear to be cheated of her pleasure again.

When she could not stand the friction any longer, she made a sharp noise in her throat and Jack pushed her back against the bed, drawing the robe farther apart. He pressed kisses against the hot skin of her stomach and she shuddered with need. He came back to kiss her again, his mouth slanting over hers more gently this time but still with ravenous demand. He bit down softly on her bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue. Mairi was trembling, waiting for him to shed his clothes and join her on the bed. There was such a fierce ache inside her now.

She reached for him, wanting to touch him too, but frustratingly he withdrew from her. The bed creaked as he stood. She rolled over, suddenly frantic that he was about to leave her as unsatisfied as she had been earlier.

He walked over to her discarded pile of clothes by the dresser, picking up the thin, battered leather belt she had borrowed from Frazer to anchor her riding breeches. She had had to tie a knot in it because it had been too long. Jack looked at it, head bent as he weighed it in his hands. Then his gaze came up.

Mairi’s heart turned over at what she saw in his eyes. Her heart started to thump.

“Stand up.”

The rough order made her tremble.

“Drop the robe.”

Mairi hesitated. She saw him smile faintly. There was a mocking edge to it. “Scared?” he asked.

She was but she was impossibly excited, as well. This was a game that would take her well out of her depth, but she was too aroused to back down now. The thin silk slithered down her body like a caress as it fell to pool at her feet.

For one long moment she was aware of nothing but the heavy air of the chamber, the light and the shadows thrown by the lamp, the wood scent of the fire. She refused to meet Jack’s eyes as she stood naked before him.

He moved in front of her. His hands smoothed over her shoulders and down her bare arms to hold her lightly. She quivered as he pulled her arms forward and with slow, deliberate movements wrapped the belt about her wrists.

Again he waited. There was a silence. Mairi was trembling so much she thought her legs might give way. This time he moved behind her. She could feel his breath hot and fast against her back. His tongue touched her spine, tracing the line of it all the way down to the curve of her buttocks. She shivered as the goose bumps spread over her skin.

“Very nice.” His voice was a little rough. She looked down at her wrists, tested the bonds. They were not chafing, but they were firm enough to hold her. She had wondered when he had first picked up the belt if he was going to beat her. She had heard of such practices, but they did not appeal to her. She had already learned that her body responded to pleasure that was just short of pain, but she did not want more than that. Or so she thought. She had so little experience, knew so little, really, of her body’s reactions, that she could not be completely sure.

But she was about to learn.

The thought made her shake all the more.

“Walk through the dressing room and into my chamber,” Jack said.

Mairi cast him one swift glance, but his face was impassive now. She walked ahead of him; it was not far but she felt very vulnerable and exposed, naked while he was fully clothed.

Jack’s room was a match for hers in style and design, it even had a mirror in the same position, but it looked very different, a masculine room with the faint scent of sandalwood and leather.

There was one other significant difference. Where she had a pair of pretty matching cottager chairs with embroidered cushions, Jack had one large leather armchair. He led her across to this one now.

“Lean over,” he said. One hand low down on the small of her back emphasized the order. Mairi bent over the side of the chair. Her groin now rested on the padded leather arm. She was so aroused that the pressure was a torment. She put her palms flat on the leather seat, expecting Jack to release her hands from the captivity of the belt now, but then she saw that he was kneeling down, tugging on the end of the strap to draw it down and fasten it beneath the heavy wooden leg of the chair. He pulled her gently into place; the leather bit into Mairi’s wrists, obliging her to lean a little farther, arms extended across the other armrest now, legs spread wide to balance her. The tips of her breasts just touched the leather seat where a moment ago her hands had rested. Her hair fell forward, cloaking her bare shoulders.

She caught her breath, feeling hopelessly prone, shaken, acutely vulnerable. This was wicked indeed.

“Is this my punishment for refusing your proposal,” she said breathlessly, “or is it some sort of inducement to persuade me to marry you?”

Jack sat back on his heels. The light was in his eyes, bright and feral.

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling,” he said softly. “It’s no punishment when it will be so pleasurable.”

Her heart tumbled at the endearment. She trusted him not to hurt her and she was so aroused now that she could hardly bear it.

“I won’t marry you,” she said stubbornly, just in case he had not taken the point.

He smiled. “But you love me,” he said with so much smugness that she would have slapped his handsome face if her hands had been free.

“I wish I had not told you,” she said furiously. “I am sure my feelings will be of short duration.”

Jack laughed. “Unlike your pleasure,” he said. “I intend to make this last as long as I can.” He stood up, the slow, heated way in which he appraised her bound body making her all the hotter and all the more furious.

“Even nicer,” he said softly. Then: “Are you sure you really want to surrender control? This is your last chance to change your mind.”

Mairi closed her eyes. Damn her perfidious body. She would just about explode if he stopped now. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”

Jack reached up, cupped her face in his hands and kissed with infinite sweetness, his mouth lingering on hers, parting her lips, his tongue touching hers softly. He ran his hands over her breasts, a possessive gesture that made her quiver and her body jerk in its bonds.

When he moved behind her she closed her eyes again. He adjusted her legs a little farther apart so that she was almost on tiptoe. This felt even more wicked, even more difficult to endure. Cold air touched her cleft. Her thighs trembled. Her body felt too taut to bear, already on the edge of orgasm.

Jack’s hands brushed over her shoulders again, moving her hair away from the nape of her neck, tracing the path they had followed before in a soft caress down her spine, then along her sides to the flare of her waist. They paused there. She felt him move and waited in urgent, unbearable anticipation to feel him inside her.

Instead she felt something else, something silken and light, tickle the skin of her neck and the dip between her shoulder blades, following the line of her spine. She could not see what it was, a feather, perhaps. Her skin was so sensitized that the slightest flick made her tingle unbearably. The heavy scent of leather filled her nostrils, the smell so strong she felt almost drunk on it. She bowed her head between her spread arms.

She felt the silken caress again, this time against the side of her breasts where they pressed against the leather seat. It skipped over the sensitive skin, causing her to writhe; it dipped beneath her, teasing her nipples, making her groan now in frustration.