“I’m grateful to you for bringing me to safety,” she said quietly. “The kiss was my mistake, and it won’t happen again.” She expected him to back away from her, now that her pride was shattered into a thousand pieces.
But instead, he held her there, his dark eyes discerning. It was difficult to keep her thoughts clear when he was watching her like this. She turned her gaze aside and saw that the mare was grazing behind Dougal, the moonlight reflected against the animal’s silvery coat.
“I meant what I said, about giving you the Arabian stallion,” she added. “But if you want nothing more to do with me, I’ll understand.” She kept her gaze averted, not wanting to see his refusal.
“I’m not as daft as you think I am,” he said in a low voice.
“I never said you were.” Somehow, she’d triggered his anger, and she wasn’t certain how to soothe him. But she was entirely aware of the way his arms rested on either side of her, his body shadowing hers like a predator.
He held her imprisoned, his face resting against hers. “You’re wanting something else from me,” he predicted, lifting her chin. “Something you won’t tell. I know you better than any other man here. But I’m not one to be swayed by sweet words and soft kisses.”
“Nor horses, it seems.” She couldn’t tear her gaze from him, and the touch of his hand warmed her skin. “Just let it be, Dougal. I won’t ask anything of you anymore.” She turned her cheek and pushed his hand aside.
“Did you ever kiss your husband like that?” he demanded.
Blood rushed into her cheeks, and she wondered why he was asking such a thing. Why would he care? “Edmon didn’t like kissing.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the answer pleased him. His shadowed face was unreadable, and she didn’t know what he wanted from her now. She was about to demand that he release her, when this time, Dougal leaned in again.
“Was I the only one, then?”
Her heartbeat shuddered, and she was held captive by his deep voice. “Your kiss was the only one that ever mattered.”
His arms encircled her waist, and she didn’t stop him when he leaned in to claim her mouth. The kiss began with heated breath, firm and coaxing. She was lost in the touch of his mouth while his hands rested upon her hips. His mouth offered an invitation, not a conquest. When she opened to him, kissing him back, it transformed entirely.
Memories poured through her, of the way he’d taught her to kiss. Of the stolen moments when they’d practiced with each other.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hold a clear thought while his hot mouth was upon hers. Heat pulsed through her body, her blood awakening as his mouth slid against hers. Bold and unrestrained, his tongue thrust against hers, demanding her surrender.
Without understanding why, her arms moved around his neck, and his hard body pressed against hers. She could feel his arousal against the juncture of her thighs, and the pressure wasn’t at all frightening. Instead, she curved against him, welcoming his strength against her softness. Between her legs, there was an aching emptiness.
Desire. Need like she’d not experienced before was there in the way his tongue moved within her mouth. She wanted him to bare her skin, to feel his mouth kissing her everywhere. A shudder rocked through her when he rubbed himself against her.
When he released her, his dark eyes were raging. “Stay away from me, Lady Eiloch. Unless you plan to finish what we started.”
With that, he strode away, leaving her with weak knees and a pounding heart.
Chapter Three
With burning cheeks, Celeste moved back to the crowd of MacKinlochs. There was music and she saw the chief, Alex MacKinloch, with his wife, Laren, seated beside him at table. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, and the woman blushed, sending him a secret smile.
All around were men and women stealing away for a moment alone. Even Nairna was dancing with her husband, Bram, their eyes locked on each other.
Celeste stood back from them, feeling as though anyone could see the guilt on her face.
Now she understood why he’d kissed her. Dougal wanted retribution for the way she’d left him. He wanted to remind her of the passion between them, showing her what she’d turned away. And he would be the one to leave her now.
Dougal might be willing to take her into his bed—but not as an act of love. She felt certain he would use it as vengeance against her. Was there another way out of this, other than returning with a child in her womb? It was such a desperate act, and there was no guarantee that she would even give birth. Especially with Rowena plotting against her, wanting her to miscarry. And once again, she understood that her reckless plan wasn't right or fair. It was better to find another way of protecting Melisandre. But how?
She would have to fight for her share of the inheritance, and the idea made her weary just to think of it. By law, she was owed a portion of property to live upon. But to be forced out of her home, her sister’s dowry taken . . . it was too much to think of. The weight of her troubles pressed down upon her, and Celeste pushed back the tears.
She couldn’t weep. Tears would solve nothing at all. Instead, she reached for a cup of mead and drained it quickly, before accepting another. Without enough food in her stomach, the second drink made her light-headed. It didn’t matter. She wanted to rid herself of the thoughts of failure.
She watched the other women, at the way they flirted. Without bothering to hide her interest, she rested her cheek against one hand and stared. No one had ever taught her how to attract a man’s interest. When she had met Dougal at Locharr, he had made his interest known. He had come there to train with the baron’s men, and she’d been fascinated by him from the first.
He’d found many reasons to be near her, until soon enough, they were stealing away to be alone. Just like the men and women here, though she and Dougal had never been lovers.
Celeste drank another glass of mead, watching as one woman caught a man’s eye, smiled at him, and then went to speak to a different man.
