“Yes, I am warning you. Can’t I be loyal to my family, and try to keep you safe, too?”
He shook his head, an odd, tender light filling his eyes. “Mayhap for a day, or two, or ten. But in the end, ye will have to choose. In the end, it will be me—or them.”
She would never be able to abandon her family, she thought, feeling frantic. But she would never purposefully place Alexander in jeopardy. “Why can’t you understand? Buchan and Will are all I have left of my mother, my father, my other brothers!” But his hand was now caressing her back, causing desire to fist within her.
And he clasped her face in his large hands. “Buchan would sell ye to me fer the right price. And Will would understand—if ye told him that ye love me.”
She went still. What had he said?
When she didn’t respond, he seemed disappointed. “Will ye ever give an inch?” he murmured. “Tell me ye still care. Tell me yer glad I came to Balvenie. Tell me ye wish to be my wife.”
Her heart thundered. “I can never marry you.”
“Ye can,” he said softly. “Ye will.”
“I am always afraid for you. I’m afraid you will die by the sword.”
“I will die like my father, sword in hand, upon the battlefield, in God’s grace,” he said fiercely. “But if yer waiting fer me, I will not die soon.”
She clasped his face. “Is that a vow?”
“Aye, ’tis a vow, Margaret.”
Her heart turned over, hard. What if? her mind began. But then he kissed her, hard, with a hunger pent up from the past weeks, and her thoughts simply ceased. There was only sensation—his hard, inflamed body, her taut, heated skin, the urgency racing between them. And there was emotion—desperation, relief and elation.
She had forgotten how much she needed to be in his arms. She had forgotten the rush of dizzying pleasure, the budding desire, the building pressure. Margaret ran her hands over his hard back, their mouths fused.
He broke the heated kiss abruptly. “I missed ye,” he said, eyes hot.
“I missed you,” she admitted breathlessly.
His smile was satisfied, yet savage. Alexander lifted her abruptly into his arms, shoved his way into the forest, and laid her down on a bed of pine needles. He paused on all fours, a question in his eyes. And Margaret reached up and pulled him down on top of her.
Their mouths fused frantically as he reached for the hem of her clothes. A moment later Margaret gasped as he impaled her amidst an explosion of stars....
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MARGARET LAY IN Alexander’s arms, their naked bodies entwined. She did not move, afraid that if she did so, reality would intrude. Just then, she wanted to be held, and to hold him. She did not want to think about anything other than how wonderful their lovemaking had been.
She closed her eyes and kissed his chest. “You are an excellent lover, Alexander.”
“And ye would ken, how?”
She looked up at him, cradled in his arms. Then she reached up to touch his rough jaw. “I would know because I am so pleased.” But now, with her pulse having returned to normal, she felt the cool breeze on her back and shivered.
He reached over her and pulled her mantle over them both. “Will ye admit yer glad that I came to Balvenie for ye now?”
She snuggled against him, her cheek pressed to his chest. “You are shameless to ask such a question now.”
“I ken when triumph is at hand, Margaret.”
He was a warrior. He knew when to strike—he knew that she was so pleased that she must answer yes. “Yes, Alexander, I am glad you came to Balvenie.”
He lowered his face and kissed her slowly. “I came fer Isabella, as Bruce commanded,” he said. “But I also came fer ye, Margaret.” His eyes darkened. “Buchan only cares fer himself. Sir Guy is as filled with ambition.”
She trembled. She had been trying not to think about anything other than the past hour they had shared. She did not want to face reality now, not if she could avoid it, just for a bit more. “You are filled with ambition as well, Alexander.”
He was gruff. “Aye. But I care fer ye. The others only think to use ye as their pawn.”
