The Recruit (42 page)

But this was nothing like what Atholl had done to her. At least that was what he kept
telling himself. Aye, he was making decisions for her—decisions that would put her
in danger—but he’d had no choice. His course was already set when he’d discovered
that she was carrying his child. And unlike Atholl, he would protect her. Though he
was no longer confident she would see the difference.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take you to the church. Did you discover anything about your sister?”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with sadness. She repeated what the abbess had
told her. “It doesn’t make sense. How could Brother Thomas have made such a mistake?
I only hope he will return soon so that I may ask him. He went somewhere with the
Bishop of St. Andrews.”

Lamberton? Kenneth hid his reaction to the mention of Bruce’s former ally, but his
senses pricked. Agreeing that it was odd, he said, “If you’d like, I can make some
inquiries.”

Her expression stopped his breath. For the first time, he knew what it would feel
like to have her admiration. It was as if he’d just plucked a star from the sky and
handed it to her. He’d been the recipient of such looks countless times before, but
all of them together had never meant as much as this one did. It felt earned.

“You would do that for me?”

He suspected there was very little he wouldn’t do for her. “I still have some contacts
in Scotland that may prove helpful.” Contacts was an understatement.

He watched her reaction, but saw only concern, not suspicion.

“You won’t do anything that would put you in danger?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. Every day he stayed here he was in danger. “I will
be careful.”

“Then thank you, I would be very grateful if you would try.”

Her eyes shone, and something tightened in his chest. He felt a nearly overwhelming
urge to take her in his arms. But he doubted his ability to touch her and not give
in to the urges that had been plaguing him for thirty-seven blasted days. Though who
was counting?

He nodded, breaking the connection. “You must be tired and wish to ready for bed.”

Her face fell. “You are leaving? But I thought …”

The disappointment in her voice tugged at him. Damn it, didn’t she know how hard this
was? His fists clenched at his sides, fighting the primitive instincts that seemed
to take over every inch of his body when he was in the same room with her. After a
fight, it was even worse. His blood was pumping even hotter. “You thought what, damn
it? The last thirty-seven days to the contrary, I am not a bloody monk, Mary. I want
you so badly, I can’t see straight.”

Her eyes widened. She gasped. “You do?”

“What did you think? That I would lie beside you every night and not want to make
love to you?”

“You know exactly what I thought. I thought you were exhausted from being with another
woman.”

“I don’t want another woman.”

It was the truth. And tonight after seeing her almost fall, he would finally admit
what had been staring him in the face but his pride wouldn’t let him acknowledge:
he loved
her. She was going to hate him when she learned the truth, but he loved her in a way
that he’d never thought possible. Apparently, he was just as susceptible to emotion
as everyone else. It had only taken the right woman.

She’d been different from the start. It wasn’t just because she hadn’t fallen at his
feet—although he could admit that might have been part of it initially—but she challenged
him, intrigued him, didn’t seem to be interested in his accomplishments but in him.

He didn’t even mind when they argued. Actually, he kind of liked it. He could lose
his temper around her and not feel like a bully—she just gave it right back to him.
It was strangely freeing—invigorating even.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel the need to impress, the need to be
the best. But he wanted her to believe in him. He wanted her trust, even if he didn’t
deserve it.

If he weren’t so tormented, he might have enjoyed the look of disbelief on her face.
“You don’t?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t been with another woman since I met you.”

It was clear she didn’t believe him. “What about the woman in the stables?”

He wanted to tell her it was his sister, but how could he explain? He couldn’t. “It
wasn’t how it looked.” Unable to resist, he reached down and smoothed the back of
his finger along her cheek. Her skin was so soft it made his chest squeeze. Hell,
everything about her made his chest squeeze. One look at those big blue-green eyes,
those delicate features, the lush pink lips and baby-soft skin, and he was so filled
with emotion there wasn’t enough air left in his lungs to breathe. “I only want you,
Mary.”

Mary’s heart was pounding so hard and loud she could barely hear. Had she really heard
him correctly? Part of
her said to leave it, that “I only want you” was enough for now. To take the morsel
that he’d given her and be happy. The other part—the cautious part—knew it wasn’t.
“For how long?”

He was holding himself so still, only the burning intensity in his eyes as he looked
at her betrayed the fierceness of the emotions battling inside him. He knew what she
was asking him. She wanted commitment. Fidelity. A promise.

He didn’t hesitate. “For as long as you want me.”

She stilled, everything inside her coming to a sudden stop. Her heart seemed to be
hanging on the edge of a precipice, ready to tumble over at the barest nudge. “What
if that is forever?”

He gave her a wry smile that tugged at every string in her heart. “Then you’ll make
me a very happy man.” He tipped her chin so she would meet his gaze. “If you haven’t
guessed, I’m in love with you.”

Mary’s breath caught high in her throat, hearing the words she thought would never
be meant for her. She was stunned, awed, and full of disbelief at the same time. It
seemed impossible that this could be happening. She’d thought her chance for happiness
was behind her. That any hope of the love she’d once dreamed of as a girl was gone.
But here was this incredible man telling her he loved her.

If she listened to the voice of experience, she had every reason not to believe him.
He was every bit as handsome, every bit as magnificent, every bit as popular with
the women as Atholl had been. But he wasn’t Atholl. And this wasn’t the past. If she
listened to her heart, and judged him on himself, she knew it was true. From the first,
he’d always treated her differently. She’d recognized it, but hadn’t wanted to believe
it.

She slid her hands around his neck and raised up on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss
on his mouth. Their eyes met,
and what she saw there gave her courage. She spoke the words that fear had kept at
bay. “I love you, too.”

It was as if a dam had burst and all the emotion, all the feelings, that had been
held back between them came rushing out in a torrential wave.

He groaned, wrapped his arms around her, and covered her mouth with his.

He kissed her. God, did he kiss her! He kissed her until her knees were weak and her
heart wanted to weep with joy. The warm slide of his tongue sent ripples of emotion
fluttering through her heart.

But perhaps “kiss” was far too ordinary a way to describe the perfection of his mouth
moving over hers, of the gentle stroke of his tongue, of the aching tenderness of
emotion he elicited with each deft caress. He didn’t just kiss, he devastated.

It was incredible. The warm, soft heat of his mouth on hers. The dark, spicy taste
of him. The smooth stroke of his tongue, delving … coaxing … entreating.

There had never been any doubt of her husband’s expertise in matters of lovemaking.
He knew just what to do to make a woman weak with pleasure. The skilled movements
of his lips and tongue could rouse her passion in an instant.

But this was different. This wasn’t just about passion. The soft caress of his mouth
over hers, the heart-tugging strokes of his tongue, were gentle and sweet, tender
and inquisitive. Not a plunder but a promise. A bond. A vow.

This wasn’t just a kiss intended to make her body hot and needy; he seduced her heart
and soul as well. It was everything she’d fought against. Everything she’d struggled
to deny but had been between them from the first. Not just passion but emotion. A
deeper connection. A joining not just of bodies but of souls. Finally, she let herself
accept all the tenderness he’d been trying to give her that she’d tried for so long
not to want.

It was hard to believe the same man who’d fought so brutally hours before, who’d seemed
hard, unyielding, and merciless, whose big, muscled body could be used as such a deadly
weapon could be touching her so gently. Nor could she have imagined that the cocky,
arrogant warrior she’d first seen in the barn, who’d exuded passion and virility,
would be capable of such tender emotions.

Cradled against the big shield of his chest, Mary felt as if she were the most precious
woman in the world. She felt cherished and protected. And most of all, she felt loved.

It was so heartwrenchingly perfect, so achingly poignant, it almost hurt—which it
did, when he stopped. He lifted his head, and she cried out in protest at the loss.

He smiled, gazing down at her as he held her tightly in his arms. The warmth of his
body around her was something she would never get used to. It made her feel as if
nothing in the world could hurt her.

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

Seeing the challenging glint in his eye, she hesitated to ask. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“No more chemises, Mary. No more hiding. I intend to see every gorgeous, naked inch
of you.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, but she didn’t argue. He was right. She didn’t want anything
between them, even embarrassment.

He grinned at her silent acquiescence, and in a smooth motion, swept her up into his
arms. Looping her hands around his neck, she buried her face in the fuzzy warmth of
the plaid he wore around his shoulders as he carried her to the bed. Depositing her
atop the covers, he proceeded to remove his clothing.

It was clear the man didn’t have a lick of shame. Nor should he, she was forced to
admit. His body was incredible—as he very well knew. And after nearly two months of
sharing a room, he also knew exactly how much she admired it.

He removed the arsenal of weapons he wore strapped to various parts of his body. Then,
piece by piece, he tossed his clothing on one of the chairs before the fire. Plaid.
Cotun
. Chausses. Boots. Shirt. And then finally, his braies.

He stood proudly before her in all his masculine glory. And sweet heaven, his body
was glorious. She drew in her breath as a warm, melting heat spread over her skin.
Not even the cocky grin on his face could make her turn away. The man was arrogant
beyond belief. She should knock him down a few pegs, but she feared it was impossible.
When it came to his body there was nothing to fault. Unless you didn’t like lots—and
lots—of perfectly defined, granite-hard muscle. Shallow female that she was, she,
unfortunately, did.

His body was a sharply honed weapon of war, every bit as hard and impenetrable as
the armor he wore. From the breadth of his shoulders, to the thick, powerfully built
arms, to the narrow, lean planes of his waist, to the bands of muscle crossing his
stomach, it was hard to know where to look. Of course, there was also that other part
of him that drew the eye, demanding attention. The long, thick column of flesh that
bobbed against his stomach, hard proof of just how much he wanted her.

“See something you might be interested in?”

She shot him a glare. “Would you believe me, if I told you no?”

He laughed. “With the way you are looking at me, I don’t think so.” He dropped down
on the bed beside her and lay back, crossing his arms behind his head. “Your turn.”

She balked. “I hope you don’t expect a performance like the one you just gave.”

“Not tonight.”

A big, strapping warrior shouldn’t look so mischievous.

She slid her hand over the hard ridges of his stomach,
letting her wrist brush over the heavy head of his erection. “Are you sure you can
wait? You appear to be ready right now.”

He groaned into her hand as she circled him, letting her draw it up and down a few
times before catching her wrist to stop her. “I won’t let you distract me, Mary. I’ve
been waiting too long for this. Take it off—all of it.”

She bit her lip, her heart fluttering nervously. “Perhaps we could blow out a few
of the candles?”

“Not a chance.”

She frowned. “I can see you are going to be difficult about this.”

“I’m waiting, love. Make me wait much longer and we’ll save this for morning. With
the clear skies tonight, I suspect it will be a bright and sunny day.”

She gave him a sharp scowl that promised retribution, sat up, and began to remove
her robes. He had to help her, and it didn’t surprise her to discover that her husband
was far more efficient than any lady’s maid. “Had practice at this, have you?”

“Some,” he said blandly, not rising to the bait.

When she was down to the last layer of linen, she clung to her chemise like a lifeline.
Perhaps she should prepare him? “I’m much bigger—”

“You are carrying my child, Mary. I doubt there is a way you could look any more beautiful
to me.”

What could she say to that? He killed her objections with sweetness.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted the last veil between them over her head and tossed
the fine linen chemise atop the other items of clothing. Instinctively she crossed
her hands in front of her, but there was no hiding the big bump of her stomach or
the heaviness of her breasts.

She couldn’t look at him, feeling far too vulnerable. She’d never been naked before
a man. Heat rose to her cheeks. Why was he being so quiet? Was she so horribly
unattractive to him? Eventually, she couldn’t stand the silence any longer and ventured
a peek from under her lashes.