At least now she had her answer as to where the wood for the fires came from—clearly, MacWatt felled a small forest every day using his brawn alone.
Concerned that one of the servants might catch her watching him, she eventually returned to her bed, burying herself under the covers, wishing she could understand what was happening inside his head.
Why did he kiss me? And why did he pull away?
She was so inexperienced with the ways of the world that she wondered whether she had kissed him badly and that hadcaused him to come to his senses. He had a wife before, perhaps he had compared the past kisses to the new.
Leah did not like that idea. She pulled a pillow over her head to dispel the thoughts before they drove her mad.
The memory of his calloused hands running over her skin sent a shudder through her, and she groaned as she tried to push the images out of her mind, but it was no use. He had been so strong, so powerful, and yet he had handled her with such care.
She could still feel the sensation of his tongue driving into her mouth, of her own tongue coming to meet it, the softness of his lips as he claimed hers. She longed to run her fingers through his hair and feel the support and strength of his arms around her once more.
Despite always being an independent woman, cynical of the idea of taking a husband, she had to admit that she had never felt safer than in his embrace. It was as though he had taken all her concerns away, lifting her to a different plain where she could simply feel.
She tossed and turned for hours, unable to get the image of his broad, muscled torso out of her mind as he hammered at the pieces of wood as though they held a secret only he could unlock.
CHAPTER 9
“Damn the woman to hell,”Magnus muttered into the night.
He could feel sweat pouring down his chest as he swung the axe over and over again. He must have cut up fifty logs, and still, he hadn’t been able to get the kiss out of his mind.
She was as fiery with passion as he had imagined. As soon as he had taken her in his arms, he had known it was wrong, but he could not prevent himself from having her.
Given that she was an English lady who likely had little to no experience with men, she had kissed like a demon, her soft lips parting willingly to allow him to explore her mouth, her fingers gripping him so tightly, pulling him into her. He could still taste her on his lips, could still feel the weight of her legs around his waist as she had allowed him to thrust his hips against hers.
He threw down the axe with a cry of frustration, stretching his arms above his head as his shoulders screamed at him from overuse.
He wanted to lose himself in the darkness of the forest behind him and be forgotten for a time, shedding the burdens of his duties as a laird—freed from his worries and emotions.
He glanced up at the castle, looking at the dim light from Leah’s room. He wondered what she would do if he broke down her door and came to claim her. He would throw caution to the wind and take her as he had never taken a woman before.
He could picture her startled expression as he woke her from her dreams, her hair tumbling over her shoulders as she sat up in bed.
The member between his legs throbbed as he imagined her shock turning into lust as he stormed into her room and lay down on top of her, feeling her body beneath his as he stripped her bare, her hands exploring his skin, her soft sighs of pleasure bursting from her lips as she surrendered to him, body and soul.
He shuddered at the thought.
She is in yer care. Ye promised to protect her from the people chasin’ her, nae ravage her on yer dinner table.
With that frustrating thought, he grabbed his sodden léine from the floor and marched toward the sea, stripping awayhis remaining clothes as he went, carelessly bundling them all together.
His servants knew him well enough not to bother him when he was in this kind of mood. After his wife and child had died, he had been a monster to everyone, and the only thing that would quell the turmoil in his mind was physical activity.
As he reached the beach, he felt the grit of the sand beneath his toes. Stripping down to only his underclothes, he stood under the softly falling rain, hoping that nature would do her work and cleanse him of the burning needs within his body.
He strode into the water without hesitation, the bite of the cold waves a welcome contrast to the heat in his skin.
He dove beneath the surface, resolving to swim to England if it would clear his mind of thoughts of the phoenix woman.
He kept swimming for a long time, and the continuous concentration required to manage his breathing helped to steady his thundering heart.
He did not quite make it to England, but he did manage to reach a large rock out at sea some distance from his lands. It took almost an hour to swim there and back. He half hoped a sea monster lurked in the depths beneath him. He could do with a fight to relieve the tension.
The water turned shallow again as he finally returned to shore, exhaustion heavy in his bones from hours of relentless movement. He felt the sea bed under his feet and stood up, shaking the water from his long hair and wiping the salt from his face.
“It’s just a few more days,” he said to himself, “nay more than that, and ye’ll be rid of her.”
