The Bodyguard (19 page)

“How can you be sure?”

She shot him a gamine smile. “You will be there to protect me.”

Alex was frightened by the continuing void where his memory should be, but he had no inclination to share his fear—or seek comfort for it. He lay curled up to sleep on a pile of straw in Kitt’s barn, mindful of the cow chewing her cud and the cat rustling the straw as she hunted down rats, and the animal smells—not all of them pleasant.

He wished he knew where he belonged.

He was no closer to knowing his name now than he had been when he woke up at the edge of the sea two weeks ago. But he had a great deal more insight into who he was. A proud man. One who liked children. A passionate man. And a jealous one.

He could cheerfully have strangled the Earl of Carlisle when Kitt smiled up at him … when she laughed for him … when she accepted a wildflower from his hand. He had felt an unaccountable rage—completely
out of proportion to the earl’s behavior—that made him wonder if he’d been in a similar situation in the past.

And yet, while he could not agree with Kitt’s methods, he understood the madness that drove her to contemplate marriage to a stranger. The hollow eyes and distended stomachs of starving children provided a goad he felt himself. If only he were a man of some consequence, a man with a valet and monogrammed handkerchiefs, a man who was used to good wine and a comfortable bed, he could offer her another solution to her dilemma than marriage to Carlisle.

He wished there had been time to open that door on the second floor of Blackthorne Hall and see if there really was a nursery behind it. Surely he had been to Blackthorne Hall before, as a child, perhaps. How else could he have known there would be a ledge outside Mr. Ambleside’s window and a place to jump down?

Who am I?
The question echoed inside his head. But there was no answer.

Perhaps he should go to Blackthorne Hall and introduce himself to Mr. Ambleside, as he had originally intended, and take advantage of the man’s hospitality. Perhaps he was a person of some note, maybe even the duke himself!

Alex played with the idea for a moment. What a wonder that would be, to be the richest man in England and Scotland. To own the land and the castle and be able to act the white knight and rescue Kitt and all those starving children.

Alex sighed. If he were the duke, it meant he was
the greedy landlord responsible for all that terrible starvation. He did not want to be that man. Though Kitt had said she would marry even such a man to save her people.

Alex curled his hands into angry fists, but winced when flesh touched flesh. Kitt had put salve on the blisters he’d earned cutting peat last week, but they were still tender. What kind of workingman had no calluses?

A thief. A brigand. A murderer
.

More likely, if he showed up at Blackthorne Hall he’d be arrested for some offense he’d committed. Perhaps he’d had some part in the duke’s demise. No, he could not go to the Hall and show himself openly. But perhaps he could use Michael O’Malley to investigate further. He trusted the boy not to give him up to the law if he turned out to be an unsavory character.

Meanwhile, he would continue where he was. No telling what Katherine MacKinnon would do if left to her own devices. At least if he stayed with her he could control the situation, if not his own impulses toward the woman.

He had seen her in a great many situations over the past two weeks and had learned as much about Katherine MacKinnon as about himself. Her sense of responsibility toward her tenants, her willingness to personally visit each and every one to dispense food bought with the stolen guineas, even though it meant hobbling around on her sore knee, had earned his admiration and respect.

She could also be impulsive and unpredictable, as
he had discovered one hot summer afternoon this past week. While passing a loch between visits to the tenants, she had stopped, set down her basket, and begun to unbutton her blouse. He had stared at her in shock for a moment before she laughed at him and said, “I thought I’d take a quick dip in the water to cool off. Do you want to join me?”

“I dinna know if I can swim,” he said. “I havna tried.”
Since I lost my memory
.

“I’ll keep you afloat while you find out,” she said. “Come and join me.”

He mopped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, glanced up at the hot sun, and said, “ ’Tis an invitation I canna refuse.”

She stepped behind a bush before her attire became indecent, but his mouth had long since gone dry. For a woman who had been embarrassed by having him tend her wounded knee, she was showing a surprising lack of modesty. “Promise you willna look before I’m in the water,” she called out to him.

Standing behind his own bush, he grinned but said, “Only if you’ll promise to close your eyes when I come in.”

She laughed, and he heard a splash. “I’m in. Your turn.”

“Are your eyes closed?” he said.

“What do you think?”

He walked out from behind his bush and found her staring at him, her eyes full of laughter. She was nearly covered by water, but it was apparent she had not taken
everything off. He could see the straps of something white over her shoulders. He took his time getting into the water—which was frigidly cold—but to his surprise, she didn’t turn away.

“I dinna think I’ve ever seen a man so beautiful,” she said, once the water covered his hips.

“And have you seen a great many like this?” he asked, his lips tilted in amusement.

“Only Leith,” she admitted. “Come, let’s see if you can swim.”

She reached for his hands and he walked forward and gave them to her. She led him farther into the water so that only his toes were touching the silt and rocks at the bottom. “Let me know if you feel afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said, though his heart was thumping madly.

“Shall we go deeper?”

He nodded and she gave a tug and suddenly there was nothing beneath his feet. He felt a momentary panic but heard her say, “Kick your feet.”

He did and realized it was enough to keep him afloat. “I guess I can swim.”

“I’ll let go of your hands now. If you feel yourself sinking, paddle hard with your hands and your feet.”

Alex discovered he was an excellent swimmer, and because she was too, they enjoyed a good half hour of fun in the water. His hands slid across her flesh as often as hers slid across his. They might have been two innocent children playing. But they were not.

She called a halt to it when his hand accidentally
grazed her breast and found her nipple taut with desire. “ ’Tis enough,” she said. “We have more errands to do.”

To his surprise, she did not ask him to look away as she left the water. So he did not. And was treated to the enticing sight of her slender back and buttocks through her wet muslin underthings.

She stopped and glanced back at him over her shoulder, her lips curved in a teasing smile, her eyes filled with mischief, and said, “You can come out now.”

If he had stood up, she would have seen a great deal more of him than she had seen when he entered the water. “If I come out now, you’ll shortly be as naked as I am.”

Her eyes had widened in alarm before she turned and ran for the bushes.

He had laughed. And groaned. Her impish sense of humor had nearly done him in—and had left him wanting more.

Alex shifted in his straw bed. He felt a sneeze coming on. He was probably getting a case of the influenza from staying in that damned frigid water too long. He held his breath and stayed very still to fight the sneeze, then gave in with a loud “Achoo!” He rubbed his itchy nose against his sleeve and focused his mind on his situation.

It was not at all a comfortable proposition to think of spending every day with Kitt, but being forbidden to touch her. His body ached for her, and it did not help matters to know she likely wanted him as well but had no intention of indulging either herself or him.

“Bloody hell!”

His body tightened at the thought of holding her, kissing her, putting himself inside her. He ached for her like a foolish boy who has not yet had his first woman. Could he remember his first woman? Alex realized he could not connect a particular face with the act, though he knew he had performed it many times. Enough to know it was one of life’s great pleasures.

He could simply seduce her. She was susceptible to him.

Alex grimaced. Whatever he might have been in the past, he did not see himself as a ravisher of women. But it was all he could do to keep from quivering like a stallion near a ready mare whenever she touched him—however innocent it was. The best thing to do would be to leave this place.

Unfortunately, he could not simply abandon her. He had agreed to become her bodyguard because it had seemed expedient to do so, but there was no doubt in his mind that Lady Katherine needed someone to guard her from her own clansmen. Not to mention knaves like Carlisle. The moment she no longer had a bodyguard, Ian MacDougal—or one of the others—would force her into marriage.

And Alex shuddered to think what would happen to her on that dangerous and foolhardy raid on the jail if he were not there to protect her from harm. He would make sure Kitt was kept safe from any man whose attentions she did not welcome—including himself.

Alex slept the sleep of the righteous, knowing all
would soon be right again with his world. Or at least, as right as it could be when he intended to deny himself something he wanted very much.

He dreamed of Katherine MacKinnon. In his sleep he made slow, sensual love to her. He did not want to let go of her, but some insect was crawling on his face. He reached up to slap at it, and ran into something more substantial.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Alex opened his eyes to find the face that had haunted his dreams so close that a mere few inches separated their mouths. The insect turned out to be a piece of straw Kitt was brushing against his cheek. He was still caught up in the dream and his body felt painfully unsatisfied. He wanted a taste of her. Just a taste.

Don’t do it, Alex. Don’t. You will only regret it later
.

His mouth was on hers before he’d cleared the cobwebs from his mind. He pulled Katherine down on top of him, feeling her breasts pillow against his chest. His hands grasped her buttocks and pressed her firmly against the hardness between his legs.

He knew he had caught her by surprise, because her mouth formed an “Oh!” that left an entrance for his tongue. He thrust inside and moaned when he felt the warm wetness of her mouth. He rolled her over, pinning her beneath him.

All of the innocent touching they had done in the water last week was a prelude to this. He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and felt her clutch his hair with both hands as her body arched agonizingly
into his groin. He reached for her skirt and pulled it up and out of the way, then palmed the heat of her. Oh, God. She was wet, even through the cloth.

His tongue searched her mouth for satisfaction, thrusting in an imitation of the sex act, as his hand searched for a way through the thin muslin. Her body trembled, and she made a wild sound in her throat as he rubbed against her with his thumb. The material gave way with a tearing sound.

And she bit his tongue.

Alex jerked his head away, still caught in a sensual fog, and stared at the woman beneath him.

Her eyes sparkled with tears of rage and humiliation. And awareness and arousal. And perhaps even frustration, though her next words belied any of that.

“You coxcomb! You cabbage-head! You—You clod-pole!”

There was no excuse if his touch had been unwelcome, yet he found himself making one, for both their sakes. “I wasna yet awake,” he said. “I thought you were part of my dream.”

She shoved him off of her and stood, brushing the straw from her skirt. Her face flamed red, and he realized why when he looked at the front of her blouse. Her nipples were puckered and plainly visible beneath the muslin. She might not have welcomed his attentions, but there was no denying she had been aroused by them.

“That canna happen again, Alex. I must be able to trust you. Would I be better off on my own?”

“I can be trusted—when I’m fully awake.” He rose and brushed the straw off of himself. “It willna happen again. Why did you not send Moira to wake me?”

“I … I …”

He looked into her face and saw the truth. She had wanted to be with him when he woke. She might even have wanted him to touch her—though she ought to have known better. From now on, Alex thought, he would have to protect both of them from themselves.

“The men will be here soon to plan the raid,” she said. “ ’Tis best you come inside and break your fast before they arrive.” She turned and left, but his eyes caught on the sway of her hips and stayed there until she disappeared from sight.

Once she was gone, Alex swore every oath he knew. The cow gave him a look over her shoulder, and the black cat with three white boots left off washing her one black paw to stare. He was filled with terrible regret for what he had done. Because having once tasted Kitt, he only wanted more.