He spread his fingers down the side of her leg and tugged at her shift, lifting it up over her trembling thigh.
“Please don’t,” she said, grabbing hold of it and yanking it back down to remain as a barrier between them, even while she was tempted by the danger and fear of the unknown.
Surprisingly, he removed his hand from her leg and cupped the back of her head instead, kissing her more deeply, while thrusting his strong body into hers.
She had not known how restless a person could become in such a situation, and found herself responding to every touch, every kiss, each incredible, erotic sensation.
“Ah,” he sighed. “That’s it, lass. Do you know how appealing you are?”
“You need not flatter me,” she said harshly. “I am your prisoner. You have control over me. I must therefore pleasure you, regardless of my own objections.”
His head drew back again, and he looked at her in the candlelight. “But you are warming to me. I can feel it in your kiss, hear it in your voice.”
“You hear only what you want to hear, for I amnotwarming to you, Angus. I assure you.”
She was surprised by the hatred she managed to convey in those words, even while she was melting with desire and a strange bliss she had never known to exist.
But she was even more surprised by the severity of his reaction. He frowned at her with pointed anger and sat back on his haunches.
She wasn’t sure if the anger was directed at her, or at himself.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, more fearful now than she had been a moment ago when he was attempting to slide his hand up her leg.
He slid off the bed. “I’ve lost interest in this.”
Shocked, and ridiculously humiliated by his sudden withdrawal, she sat forward. “You’re leaving?”
“Aye. I have things to do.”
“In the middle of the night?”
He offered no explanation as he strode to the door, walked out, and swung it shut behind him. The flames on the candelabra flickered wildly in the draughts from the corridor, then everything went still.
Gwendolen flopped down on the bed and exhaled with relief, for she was still in possession of her virtue and had not disgraced herself by surrendering in a delirious fever to the Lion’s seductions, when there was so much more to this than mere physical desire.
She struggled to regain her sanity, knowing that she must keep her head and remember where her loyalties lay. She had to resist the wanton urge to give him free rein over her body, for her brother might soon return, and when he did, she must be ready to reclaim her freedom, and the independence of her clan.
She could not succumb to this temptation.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Gwendolen woke to bright sunshine beaming in through her window. It was no surprise that she had slept late, for she’d been awake half the night recovering from Angus’s presence in her bed, and all the different ways he had touched her, and the shock of how pliant she’d become in his arms. It was quite a stroke of luck that he had left the room when he did, otherwise she might very well be an experienced woman this morning.
Stretching her arms over her head, she sat up and reached for her robe, then hurried to her dressing room, for there was something important she had to do that morning, before the women of the kitchen left for the village market.
She was going to attempt to send word to Fort William, the nearest English garrison, to inform them of yesterday’s attack. The governor at the fort was obligated to report all Jacobite activities to the Crown, and surely he would wish to know that the son of a Jacobite rebel had just taken over a castle of Hanoverians and declared himself chief. It was information the governor would value, and perhaps he would recognize the threat to England and send assistance.
She considered going to Gordon MacEwen, the castle steward, to share her plan with him, but decided against it, for she was not sure who could be trusted. He had been manipulated by her mother in recent weeks, so it was obvious that he was easily seduced. And God only knew how long that affair had been going on. Her mother was no saint.
Gwendolen washed up and donned a striped skirt with a blue bodice, and quickly braided her hair. She hurried down the curved stone staircase and made her way through the vaulted passageways to the kitchen, where the smell of bread baking in the ovens caused her mouth to water.
“Good morning, Miss MacEwen.”
She whirled around, realizing how very taut her nerves had become. “Mary. You surprised me. Good morning to you, too. You’re just the person I was looking for. Are you going to the village market this morning?”
“Aye. Last night’s feast drained us dry. We’re in need of everything.” She gave a sigh of annoyance. “I’ll have to take two wagons, and I may make a few of those hungry MacDonald clansmen get in the harness instead of the mules, because they’re the ones who cleaned us out, and they certainly have full bellies this morning.”
“That’s a perfect idea.”
