Kate did not understand what he meant, but she remembered the heated emotion in his eyes before the innkeeper interrupted them earlier that night. She tried to pull her hand away, but his fingers closed around hers more tightly. Kate’s head reeled. She had the feeling of falling off one of his giant Highland cliffs, and his hand, so strong and steady, was all that could save her.
“You frighten me,” she told him, still not daring to meet his gaze. “Yet I feel safer with you than anyone in my life. How can that be?”
“I wouldna hurt ye, Kate.” The husky timbre of his voice felt so tender to her ears.
With breath held, she lifted her head and set her eyes on his. He held her searching gaze for a moment before she found the strength to speak again. “Do you like me, then?”
Before she had a chance to guard her heart against it, Callum’s smile washed over her. It hit her full force and she felt dizzy, muddleheaded. She was almost glad that he smiled so rarely, for surely she would lose her heart to him completely, clutched in his vengeful fingers.
“Aye, I do like ye, Kate Campbell. I must be daft, but I do.”
“Truly?” And then she grinned at him and watched, delighted and tingling all the way down to her ankles as his smile widened into a torturously resplendent grin of his own. A new spark of hope lit Kate’s eyes. “Does this mean you will forget about killing my uncle?” When his grin vanished and he turned away, she tugged on his hand. “They would never stop hunting you.”
“’Tis late,” he said and stood to his feet. “We’re leavin’ at first light, so ye best get some sleep.”
He pulled her to her feet and took up his steps behind her when she headed back toward the stairs. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The gentle sway of her hips as she climbed the steps drove him to distraction. She was the granddaughter of the man who destroyed everything Callum was. He should feel naught but contempt for her. Instead, he found himself aching to hold her again. To tell her of the dreams he had given up years ago. Kate Campbell was carving her way through his flesh as deeply as the gouges that encircled his wrists, and he had to stop it. He would never allow her to reach his heart the way the cold, cutting metal of Liam Campbell’s shackles had. Still, when she turned to look at him over her shoulder, he felt his heart quicken.
She entered the dimly lit room first and then turned to him while he bolted the door. “Callum, I . . .”
“What?” He looked at her, taking in the spark of apprehension she tried to conceal beneath her veil of dark lashes. He had to use all his strength of will not to gather her up in his arms and kiss her senseless. When she took a step toward him, he gritted his teeth and held up his palm. “Would ye set yer life to ruin, Kate?”
She shook her head, ignoring his attempt to keep her at a distance. “I would talk to you, comfort you from your memories.”
His smile mocked her, but the sorrow that haunted him was evident in his husky voice. “I fear nae one can do that. No’ even ye.” But she could. She did, even now.
“When I was little I was told that hatred was poison.” She moved closer still, until her intoxicating scent filled his lungs. He clenched his fingers in an effort to stop him from taking hold of her. “I see the truth of it now.” Her fingers shook as she raised them to his face, touching him, stroking him as if he were a beast she meant to soothe. “I would stop it before it kills you.”
“Kate.” He uttered her name as if it pained him to speak it. As surely as her sword had pierced his flesh, her trusting, worshipful eyes caused him to take leave of his senses. He had been a villain for so long, he no longer knew what it felt like to be anything else. Until she looked at him. “Ye shouldna care aboot such things.”
She nodded and began to turn away from him. “But I do.”
His fingers closed around hers and he pulled her back, capturing her waist with his other arm. He swept her off her feet before he even kissed her. Covering her small hand with his, he brought her fingers back to his face as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter Fifteen
HIS KISS WAS HOT, passionate, his tongue a fiery brand exploring the deepest recesses of her mouth. He was hungry and hard, and Kate felt a thread of fear course through her. When his hand cupped her buttocks and razed her against his stiff erection, she arched her back to end their kiss. He bent with her, cupping her body with even more intimacy. His ragged breath along her throat thrilled the fear right out of her. His large, rough hand untying the laces of her gown made her forget everything but the feel of him, the scent of him. She didn’t want to think about consequences. She didn’t care about them.
Her breast came loose, and he moaned, taking it in his hand. The raw desire in his hooded gaze when he broke their kiss to draw her nipple into his mouth made her groin ache for something she didn’t understand. Something only he could satisfy.
He carried her to the bed, gently biting her nipple until it grew as tight as the rest of her. They fell to the mattress. His body covered hers, but his weight did not crush her. She opened her mouth to him again and clenched her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer while he kissed her. His hands tore at her gown, pulling the thick folds up over her knees. Then his fingers slipped beneath. His breath was ragged, heavy with desire. Kate went rigid when his palms grazed her inner thigh. His hand lingered there while he spread the pad of his thumb over the hard nub of her passion. Red-hot pleasure bolted through her and she squeezed her legs together. He spread her apart again with his knees, slid his hand behind her rump, and sank down onto her.
Kate knew they should stop. But the feel of his arousal between her thighs was so basely erotic, so insatiably intimate, instead of fighting him, she moved against him. He was long, and thick, and so very hard he made her melt into pool of liquid passion. He growled low in her ear and then whispered what he was going to do to her, with words that made her blush.
With one final tug, Callum pulled her skirts over her waist and rose up above her. He looked down at her, wild to taste her while his hand swept beneath his plaid and closed around his shaft. His gaze met hers a moment after his plaid rose over the tip of his swollen head. Her eyes opened wide, and she pushed herself up toward the headboard to be away from him.
It gave him a moment to consider what he was about to do, and to remember what would become of her if he did.
He yanked her skirts down and climbed off her.
Kate didn’t move. She didn’t breathe while he sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed his hand down his face. She didn’t try to stop him when he left the room, though she wanted to. She had never been intimate with a man before, but Callum’s touch, his kiss, his voice, everything about him ignited her. Every nerve in her body screamed for him, but she let him go. She had to. Not because of his name, but because of hers. He would never see her as anything more than his enemy.
She wasn’t angry that he tried to bed her. Dear God, she would have let him do it if he hadn’t stopped. Nor could she fault him for the anger that hauled him off her. She would never forget the disgust that twisted his features when he looked at her face. She wondered, pulling the coverlet up around her neck and wiping her eyes, if Callum would truly release her after he killed her uncle. She reasoned that if he tossed her into the pit, it was a fair trade. He wouldn’t touch her again, of that she was certain. It was better that way, she told herself even while her body ached for him. Hell, but the size of him frightened her. She knew enough about mating from raising livestock to know that she could have been carrying his bairn tomorrow if he had not stopped. How would she explain that to her brother?
Staring up at the ceiling, she tried to remember her life before the Devil MacGregor had charged into it and changed everything. Had she been happy in her fields tending her sheep, listening to her brother’s tales of brave, noble men? Aye, she had. For she’d been oblivious to the searing, aching need to be kissed by such a man. She imagined the torture of living with Callum in the future, seeing his face every day and knowing she would never be anything more than a pawn of revenge. It would be painful indeed, but she was willing to suffer it. At least she wouldn’t be shackled to a wall until it became so unbearable that carving off her hands would be a better option.
God’s mercy, what did she know of sorrow, of anger? Nothing! She sniffed and wiped her nose, bracing her shoulders against the soft mattress beneath her. The wonderful men in her life had taught her how to fight. Now was not the time to surrender. She must conquer her attraction to Callum MacGregor. But no matter how much he despised her, she would never hate him again. And she was going to stop him from hating her, even if it killed her.
Chapter Sixteen
