His honorable intentions flew right out the window. He held his breath as her hand moved innocently to his thigh. He should be shocked by her boldness, but he was too damned aroused. He wanted her hand on him. Taking her wrist, he moved her hand over his plaid, stopping at his bulging erection. Her fingers curled instinctively around his length.
He tensed, waiting for her next move—thankful for the length of cloth separating her hand from his cock. He was so hard, so filled with lust, that even the simple touch of her hand on his hot, sensitive skin might make him lose control. Innocently, she caressed him, tentatively explored his length, and with his help began to stroke him. His buttocks clenched as he fought the urge to explode in her hand. Or lift her skirts and slide into her tight heat. The thought of all that softness surrounding him brought a bead of anticipation to his tip.
Rory knew he was going too fast, but he felt his experience incinerated by the blazing inferno between them. No woman had ever made him feel like this—made him lose all control. The fever of her response was driving him mad. He had been down this road many times before, but never had he traveled like this—with a woman who met his every stroke with a parry of her own. He was in danger of taking her right here, pressed against the window. Either that or risk shaming himself like an untried lad by the sweet circle of her hand.
He forced himself to slow the pace. Easing her away from the window, he lowered her to a nearby cushioned bench. Bending over her, he kissed her gently as he began working the laces of her gown. His lips moved across her face, toward the sensitive nape of her neck. She sighed as his tongue tasted the honey-sweet silk of her skin.
Rory hadn’t intended to take it this far, but his body would not be denied. Desire warred with honor.
His head jerked up, and he felt as if he’d been dunked in a tub of cold reality. He knew what he had to do, though it was undoubtedly the hardest thing he’d ever done. He was so close to releasing the nearly unbearable pressure.
But honor, it seemed, had won.
He couldn’t do this. Not when she was still vulnerable from her attack. Not when there were so many questions between them.
She deserved more than he could give her.
He stood up, his gaze held captive by what he’d forsaken for duty. She was temptation personified—her eyes half-closed with passion, her sensuous lips bruised by his kisses, her breathing ragged and shallow. He raked his gaze down to the soft ivory skin of her partially exposed breasts, the nipples dark and tight from his kisses.
He must be insane.
Isabel opened her eyes wide with surprise at his abrupt curtailment of the pleasure he was giving only moments before. “Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?” She sat up, fumbling self-consciously with the laces on her bodice.
Wrong?She was so damn innocent.
Rory turned, gazing out the window into the darkness, allowing his breathing to slow. Finally, he looked back to her. “I’ve told you how it must be.”
She stood up, sliding her hands around his neck. “It doesn’t need to be.”
It was almost too much. Perhaps he should just take what she offered, to hell with the consequences. But Rory would not act rashly when it came to the clan, not even with a woman he wanted above all others.
Carefully he unfolded her arms from around his neck. He couldn’t think with her so near. “Why did you kiss me?”
Her mouth dropped open. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t trust me,” she said flatly.
“Should I? You are a MacDonald.”
Their eyes met, and he could see that his frank words had hurt her, but her answer was important to him. More important than he wanted to acknowledge.
She lifted her chin, but the tremble of her bottom lip betrayed her distress. “Have I given you reason not to?”
Rory stroked his jaw but didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure. “You’ve pushed me before,” he said, referring to the dress and flimsynight rail.“And you haven’t answered my question.”
Isabel flushed, but whether from anger or guilt he did not know. “I kissed you because I wanted to. That is the only reason. If you will remember, we were discussing the attack at your request. Your suggestion.” She lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him. “AndifI choose to seduce you, you will know.” The sensuous, womanly confidence in her eyes took him aback.
Rory almost smiled at her bravado, even as her threat sent a shiver of trepidation winding through him. He suspected that she was right. This woman was lethal.
She let her threat hang for a moment before continuing. “Maybe I should question your motives. Why did you bring me here tonight?”
“I asked you here to discuss the attack. Perhaps we should return to that and talk about the ramifications of your actions.” He paused, deliberating what those consequences might be.
Isabel stood before him proudly, her hair disheveled and her cheeks flushed, but otherwise little evidence remained of her near undressed state of a few minutes ago.
“I admit responsibility. Do what you will.”
