He took her face in both his hands, dragged his lips from hers, and spoke against her cheek. “If it were not for this bluidy curse, I’d be inside you by now.”
He pressed his lips to hers again with a passion that was unbearable, for there could be no more than this. He could kiss her and caress her with his beautiful, masterful hands, but it could never go any further. With or without the curse, she was not some happy-go-lucky tavern wench. She was the daughter of an earl, and a wealthy one at that. One day there would be offers and negotiations for her hand in marriage, and this reckless moment up against a stable wall with a wild Highlander would not improve her already-damaged reputation.
“I want so badly to have you,” he whispered as he blazed a trail of damp, openmouthed kisses down the side of her neck. “I want to run my hands over your sweet naked flesh, and taste you everywhere with my mouth.”
“You can,” she told him, and though she knew it was risky, she whispered, “I want you to.”
His fingers brushed lightly over her skin, just above her neckline, and he followed their path with a series of small, tender kisses. His tongue darted and probed under her low neckline.
“No, I can’t.…”The sensation of his hot breath in her cleavage thrust another flood of lust straight to her toes. “I want you too much, lass. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking you fully, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
He kissed along her collarbone and she shivered with sweet, intoxicating pleasure.
“You won’t hurt me just by kissing me,” she argued while she ran her fingers through his heavy hair. “It feels so good, Lachlan.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the wall.
“Aye, it does. Too good. It’s dangerous.”
He took her face in his hands again, cupping her jaw and running the pads of his thumbs across her chin before he drank in her open mouth, kissing her deeply and passionately.
Catherine melted into his arms. He kept talking about danger, but she was not afraid. She was filling up with joy and ecstasy.
He ran his hands across the front of her stomacher, and she wished she could rid herself of the constricting garment and feel his bare hands on her breasts.
“We need to find your sister,” he growled, still kissing Catherine’s neck. “She must remove the curse. I cannot live like this.”
She clutched at his shoulders and held him tight. “If we find her, and she lifts it, would you make love to me then?”
Straining against her, he shut his eyes and bowed his head to rest on her shoulder. “Ah, hell,lass,” he groaned. “You should not say things like that. It’s the worst kind of torture.”
She lifted his face so he was forced to look her in the eye. “Not for me. It excites me.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. Even if there were no curse, I could not have you. You are the Drumloch heiress, and a woman like you does not give herself to a man like me.”
“‘A woman like you…’That implies that I am like every other nobleman’s daughter, but we both know I am not, and all the world knows it as well. I was missing for five years and eventually presumed dead. I am already ruined by that scandal. But I am still one of the richest women in Scotland, and young enough to bear children, so one day very soon some well-titled—and most likely impoverished—gentleman will negotiate with my cousin for my hand in marriage, and he will not care whether or not I am untouched. He will marry me for my money.”
Lachlan’s eyes darkened, and his tone grew serious. “Areyou untouched?”
It was a bold question, and a shocking impropriety to ask such a thing.
Catherine lowered her gaze. She had never been ashamed of her situation—it was beyond her control—but this, the loss of her virginity, was something more.
At last she looked up and shook her head. “No. I am not a virgin. But I don’t know why, or with whom, or how. All I know is what the doctor has told me. So you see, you would not be taking anything of any great value if you made love to me. No one would even know, because my virginity has already been taken by another, and my family knows it.”
He took a step back, and the sudden distance between them robbed her of all warmth.
“Do not make it sound like that,” he said. “I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you now, so it would meaneverythingto me. But none of that matters, because it cannot happen between us. Do not forget, you are under my protection. I have vowed to escort you safely home, and that is what I intend to do.”
Catherine swallowed uncomfortably and realized she was breathing very hard. Her chest rose and fell, tight up against her gown, and it made her head swim. She wanted him so badly, but he was not in a position to give her what she desired.
And she was not entirely sure that what she desired would be good for her. As he said, they came from different worlds.
Truthfully, she didn’t care about that. She would be perfectly happy wearing a homespun skirt and living here in the Highlands as his wife, gathering eggs and milking her own cows, if that were possible. Perhaps the old Catherine might not have felt that way, but the person she once was no longer existed. That person was gone. From the moment her grandmother collected her at the convent, she had felt like a fraud, like she did not belong in that world—until the moment Lachlan arrived.
“We should return to the Hall,” he said, glancing impatiently over his shoulder and offering his hand.
Catherine let him lead her out of the stable and across the moonlit bailey, where the distant sound of fiddle music and cheerful singing penetrated the silence of the night and seemed to contradict the heaviness she felt from within.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked when they reached the Hall, for he had not spoken a word while they walked.
