She rose onto her toes and found his mouth again with her lips. She inhaled his scent and absorbed his taste while she kissed his lips, his face, his throat. His low groan set her blood on fire. He pulled her body tight against his, the evidence of his arousal impossible to ignore, as he plundered her mouth. One hand held her fast against him, the other traced up her side to the curve of her breast then back to her hip.
“We canna stay here,” Caitrin whispered. If MacGregor or his men found them, the confrontation wouldn’t go well for either of them, or for her father. But she couldn’t let Jamie go, not while he kissed her with such abandon.
At her words, he lifted his mouth and she felt his muscles harden to steel beneath her fingertips. “Dinna stop,” she pleaded, reaching behind her to unlatch her door.
As it swung open, he took a step back. “This is madness, lass,” he whispered, though he didn’t release her, merely put some space between their bodies.
Again, she stepped fully into his embrace. “Come in, Jamie. I dinna wish to be alone. No’ yet. Please stay with me a while. Hold me.”
“Ye ken I canna do that.” He gripped her shoulders and set her back from him.
His heavy breathing reassured her he wanted to do as she asked, despite what he said, and what he did. “None need ken ye’re here.” She reached up and laid a hand over his.
“I’ll ken it.” His jaw tightened. “How will I face yer da? He gave ye into my care while he canna care for ye himself.”
Her breath caught as she sensed him drawing away. “So care for me, Jamie. I need ye to hold me a while longer.”
“Ye ken as well as I do, if we close that door behind us now, we willna stop with kisses. Nay, lass.” The cords in his neck strained with tension. “I promised yer da. And ye are promised to Alasdair MacGregor, or nearly so. I willna do this under his very roof.”
“I am no’ yet promised…”
Jamie’s lips pursed.
She tried a different tack. “But ye will under the stars?” Caitrin felt sure, confident at last, of what she wanted. She wanted Jamie Lathan. “Then let us climb the tower and find the stars.”
“Or wait until yer da can travel and find another roof, aye? Much must happen before we can leave. Ye must be sure of yer decision, no’ swayed by what yer body wants at this moment. And ye must convince yer da.” He held up a hand to forestall her objection. “Ye ken I am right. Ye are exhausted and no’ thinking straight or ye’d see the sense of it.” He gave her a gentle nudge through the door.
She allowed it, cupping his face with one hand as she stepped away.
He pulled her back into his arms for a quick kiss he followed with a sigh. “Rest well, Caitrin. Dream of me.”
****
Caitrin entered her father’s sickroom the next morning to find Alasdair MacGregor already there. Dismayed, she moved protectively to her father’s side.
“I’ve just arrived,” Alasdair told her as Fletcher attempted to sit up.
“Here, Da.” Caitrin added pillows behind his back to support him. “Can I get ye anything?”
“Nay, daughter. Let me be.” He waved her off and turned his attention to his visitor. Caitrin took a seat across the room, away from the two men, but where she could observe them. Should she go get Jamie or one of his men? She had no illusions she could intervene if things got tense; but she might be able to get help if such were needed to protect her father. How would MacGregor treat her father, after leaving him to chase after a boar?
“I’m glad to see ye looking so well,” MacGregor told him.
Caitrin studied MacGregor carefully and detected no sign of a threat in his posture or his voice. She allowed her muscles to loosen and took a breath.
“I regret ye were harmed at all. If there’s aught I can do to speed yer recovery, ye have only to say it.”
She bit her tongue, tense all over again as the faint buzz of tiny bees ran across her skin. The sensation was not very strong from across the room, but MacGregor lied. She just didn’t know about what. His offer of help? His regret over her father’s injuries? If only she knew what he was doing here. Had he come to gloat, or to wallow in regret that the boar or the horse hadn’t finished her father?
“I thank ye,” Fletcher told him. “But I’m being well cared for by yer healer and my daughter. Dinna trouble yerself on my account.”
MacGregor executed a brief bow. “Ye have only to ask. Any of my people can get word to me, as can yer lovely daughter, if ye have need of any succor, or of my presence.”
Caitrin schooled her features to impassivity as her father’s glance cut to her when MacGregor mentioned her.
“I wish only for ye to continue to respect my wishes concerning my daughter,” Fletcher told him, “and to ensure her continued safety within yer keep.”
“That goes without saying, Fletcher,” MacGregor replied gruffly, as if he took insult from Fletcher’s insinuation that without his oversight, Caitrin would be in danger inside his walls.
