Drawing in a breath, she pondered the rugged horizon.Should she try to make an escape now?And how?Logan pushed the horse hard and his grip around her was firm.She doubted she had any chance of escaping him.
She wriggled again and heard him grunt.When she shifted back, she became aware of his hard body flush against hers, his strong thighs framing her.While their night together had been brief, she was thoroughly aware of the muscled body beneath the plaid.Many times during the years together, she had seen him shirtless.Once she had even spied him bathing.The sight of firm muscles and a little crisp hair scattered across his chest lingered with her even now.Like sun melting wax she felt herself soften into him and heard his sharp intake of breath.
Whatever had occurred between them throughout the years, she could never deny they had always been attracted to one another and in spite of the change in him, she still hungered for him.
Regret swirled in her stomach, heavy and bitter.If she had accepted him, had not pushed him away, would things be different now?But if things had gone differently, would she still have a son?Lorna could never regret Ewan.
She swallowed and moved in an attempt to ease the ache gathering inside.Logan deserved to know of his son but she doubted he’d believe her now.If he saw him, he would not doubt her word.The babe looked more like his father every day.
“We are nearly there.Can ye no’ keep still for a few moments?”he snapped, breaking her thoughts.
“I’ve been confined in irons and hauled around for the past few days.My muscles are stiff,” she grumbled.
“Ye’ll suffer worse if ye dinnae keep still.”
“What could be worse?”she snapped back.
He hauled the horse to a stop and Lorna squealed when he leaped off, dragging her with him.Both hands gripping her upper arms, he pinned her in one spot and eyed her gravely from under his brow.Something echoed in the dark depths of his eyes—a flash of remembrance?
“If ye’ll insist on rubbing yer body against me, ye can expect far worse than being held in irons.”
The grating texture to his voice increased and she gaped up at him.Did he intend to throw her down and take her here, in the middle of the Highlands?
Part of her longed for him to.To feel his touch again, to stroke his skin.But this was not Logan.He might have Logan’s handsome, rugged looks—that not even the large scar on his neck could vanquish—and his strong, muscular body, but there the similarities ended.Her heart grieved once again for what she had lost, but her head counselled her against such sorrow.There had to be hope he would return to her.There had to be, and Lorna refused to give up on him.
“Logan,” she whispered—a plea.
His grip softened on her, confusion flitted over his face.The gentle touch of the breeze around her did not cool the heat that flushed through her as he held her close, close enough so that her breasts brushed his chest and her thighs touched his.
“Is it so hard to believe that I might speak the truth?”
His expression hardened briefly but when his gaze fell back to her lips, a smile tugged his lips.“Yer a temptress, lass.Ye lead me to my doom.Do ye believe me such a fool to succumb to yer tricks?”
“I dinnae believe yer a fool.Ye’ve always been far from dim-witted, but if ye are no fool, why will ye no’ question what ye’ve been told?Why will ye no’ give me a chance?”
He shook his head.“What chance do ye ask?Should I do what yer eyes beg me to do and lift yer skirts and take ye here?Me—a mere peasant.Am I to believe ye let me sully yer noble skin with my kisses once before.”
She sucked in a sharp breath at his coarse words.Logan had always spoken softly to her with the exception of when she had sent him away from her after their night together.But in spite of the bitterness behind the tone, thrills shot to her lower belly.
“If I thought it would help ye remember, I’d do as much.”
His lips curled as if he had eaten something sour.“Like a chore mayhap?Sacrifice yerself in the hopes yer feminine wiles might persuade me to let ye loose?”
“Ye think me some kind of whore?”
“I think yer a canny woman, willing to do anything to be free.”
In some way, he was correct.After Walter’s death, she had done everything in her power to maintain her independence.It wouldn’t last, she knew that.Someone would want her hand and dowry eventually, but not even the love of Logan could persuade her to give herself up willingly.What a fool she had been.
But at present, she hardly knew what drove her.Desire?Desperation?How could she be so strongly attracted to a man who only bore resemblance to the man she loved?Bitterness had eaten into him and twisted him into an entirely different man.
Her chest ached for the man who had vanished from her life.He might not be dead but he might as well be.Lorna lifted a hand and he jerked back but did not stop her when she brushed a hand down the side of his face.His mouth softened, the lines in his face diminished.He felt it too, the ancient connection between them, she was sure, but he refused to listen to his heart.Whatever lies Gillean had fed him were too deeply ingrained.
“I am sorry,” she said quietly.
“What for?”
“For leaving ye.For being too scared.”
