Then why, why couldn't she take it? Why did her heart cry out for more? For desire so strong, it swept away everything else in its powerful wake. For passion that consumed her soul. For everything she thought would not happen to her.
For love.
He dipped his head and his lips swept over hers in a soft kiss. It was sweet and tender, and she felt … nothing.
She wanted to cry out with frustration.
Lizzie willed herself to want him, this gallant man who looked at her with warmth and kindness in his eyes. She tried, tried with everything she had, but her body wouldn't heed the demands of her mind.
His hand fell from her chin. “Promise me you'll think about it.”
She nodded, not knowing what else to say. Thinking wouldn't change anything.
“Good.” He stepped back and offered her his arm. “Shall we return?”
“You go ahead.” When it looked as if he were going to argue, she added, “I just need a moment.”
“Very well,” he agreed with an understanding smile. “But don't be long or I'll start to worry. It's almost dark and you'll catch a chill.”
His thoughtfulness only made her feel worse. What was wrong with her?
Robert Campbell stopped suddenly as he was about to enter the keep. Standing stone still, he peered into the deep shadows created by the wooden structures erected along thebarmkinwall. It was almost as if he sensed the danger.
He was right to fear.
Patrick stood in the shadows, possessed by a rage so intense that it took every ounce of his control not to kill the bastard.
He'd kissed his woman. Touched her. Held her in his arms.
Patrick's fists clenched at his sides. Rage seethed inside him, filling his veins. Building and building until his muscles flexed and burned with the pressure to contain it.
He wanted to be discovered. Wanted the excuse to vent his rage. Damn the consequences. After what he'd just witnessed, he'd probably lost what chance he had with her anyway.
But with one last glance in his direction, Robert Campbell strode back into the keep, not realizing how close he'd come to death.
Patrick's gaze turned back to the solitary figure shadowed in the moonlight, seated on the bench in the garden. He was filled with a yearning so intense it threatened to consume him. He was beyond reason, beyond caution, beyond any claim of indifference.
This tiny, serious woman had penetrated his defenses, revealing emotions he'd thought himself incapable of. His black heart, it seemed, was not completely dead.
Seeing her in the arms of another man had unleashed something primitive in him. Something wild and uncontrollable. Something that could not be denied.
He looked around the perimeter of thebarmkinwall, checking to make sure the castle guardsmen were in their usual positions. He'd studied their routine—their movements—knowing that he and his men might one day need to make a quick escape.
I could take her right now.She would be mine. No other man would ever touch her again.
The temptation to take what he wanted was overwhelming, warring with the tattered shreds of his honor.
Do it.
Hell, he was already an outlaw. He would only be fulfilling the destiny the Campbells had created for him. After everything they'd stolen from him, didn't he deserve a little happiness?
He'd stolen before. Food, clothing, whatever it took to survive.
But this was different. This wasn't about survival. He would possess her … but at what cost?
Not since his parents had died had someone looked at him as Lizzie did. In her eyes, he felt like the man he might have been had circumstances been different. If he took her, he would be no better than the lawless brigand they'd tried to turn him into. She would look at him the way he deserved to be looked at: as a thief, an outlaw, a man without honor.
Could he bear to see the derision in her gaze and know that it was warranted?
