Page 28 of The Return of the Heir

Chapter Seven

Gwendolyn startled as she was pulled to a stop, then just as abruptly caught against the masculine strength of Alastair’s chest. She felt him draw a quick breath even as his lips descended on hers. She’d dreamed of this moment, played it over and over in her thoughts for the past five years. But everything she’d ever imagined didn’t come close to the reality of his kiss.

Heat poured through her as his lips slid over hers, then welled and swelled and spread to every inch of her body, waking her as nothing else had from a long sleep. She could feel it in him, the same helpless reaction, the same long-denied passion finally breaking free as he stole her breath and gave it back.

He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her even closer against his body. They’d never touched each other so intimately until this moment, but for the first time in five years she could honestly say she felt alive, reborn to sensations she’d despaired of ever repeating.

She yielded to the demanding pressure of his lips on hers. He pulled her closer until she could feel the hard ridge that pressed against her belly. Gwendolyn had no difficulty recognizing his desire, and a sizzling response raced through her, hot, instinctive, and dangerous.

She should back away and end this unwise kiss. But she couldn’t gather the force within her to pull away as need pounded in her blood. This wasn’t a simple kiss but one fueled by anger as much as relief. She had wondered every day she had been locked in the tower what it would be like to kiss him. Had he thought about her as well? Did this kiss signal that he wasn’t ready to simply end things with her or allow her to walk away from the promise they had made to each other?

Was that what she wanted? A moment ago, she had wanted nothing more than to leave Dunvegan Castle forever, putting the past behind her. But as desire heated her blood, she wasn’t so certain. Her arms stole around his neck, pulling him closer this time, forcing her into vibrant contact with his rigid arousal, and demanding he give more of himself to her. And he responded, splaying his hands across her spine and deepening the kiss.

Through the sensual haze storming her brain she heard the sound of footsteps growing closer. The sound was quickly forgotten as Alastair’s hands trailed down to her waist then lifted to her breasts. Never had she experienced such a wild, uncontrollable surge of pure emotion as the kiss went on, spun out. She was tempted to forget everything and everyone and simply live in this moment of pure pleasure when a male voice suddenly erupted behind them.

“What in heaven’s name is going on here?”

Alastair pulled away with a sharp intake of breath.

Gwendolyn jerked free of his arms in a panic, her gaze flying to an elderly man with an irritated frown on his face who stood framed in the doorway with a redhaired woman at his side. She clutched his arm as though needing it for support as her gaze shifted from Alastair’s tousled clothing to Gwendolyn’s flushed face.

“You said you were ready to receive us,” the redheaded woman stated in a flat voice.

Alastair stared down at Gwendolyn with eyes yet clouded with passion. His gaze lingered on her still-swollen lips before, with an effort, he turned back to the newly arrived woman. “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow, but no matter. We are ready for your arrival, Beatrice, Laird Lamont. Welcome to Dunvegan Castle.” He pulled away from Gwendolyn’s side to offer Beatrice his arm, which she accepted as he guided her to the grouping of chairs before the hearth.

The older man continued to regard Gwendolyn with raised, bushy eyebrows. “Will no one tell me what is going on?”

“I hardly know myself,” Gwendolyn admitted as she made her way towards the doorway, suddenly deciding to return to her sister’s bedside. Whatever was happening here, and she had imagined all manner of things in the past few moments, she wanted no part of it. She stepped outside the chamber when Alastair’s voice halted her footsteps.

“You are needed in here, Gwendolyn.”

Without much of a choice, she returned to the solar and regarded Alastair through narrowed eyes as the newly arrived woman continued to hang onto his arm.

“M’laird, milady,” Becks and Mrs Morgan greeted with a bow as they entered the chamber. “Ye surprised us arrivin’ today. We expected ye on the morrow,” Becks said to the older man. “Would ye like me tae take yer luggage upstairs tae yer chambers?”

The grey-haired man’s gaze narrowed on Alastair. “Haven’t decided if we are staying yet or not. Alastair, would you care to enlighten us about what we just witnessed?”

“There’s nothing to explain.” Alastair met and held Gwendolyn’s gaze. In his eyes she saw both pain and regret before the emotions vanished, replaced with a look that bordered on boredom. “Laird Lamont, Miss Beatrice Lamont, I would like to introduce my ward, Miss Gwendolyn Harris. Gwendolyn is a guest here, as are you until things are fully settled.”

Laird Lamont raised his bushy brows. “Your ward, you say? And nothing else? ’Cuz it looked like—”

Callum scrambled into the solar just then. He paused in the doorway, looking to first Alastair, then to Gwendolyn. “Brother, perhaps this isn’t the best moment to—”

“Never mind what it looked like,” Alastair said, ignoring his brother. “Gwendolyn, I would like to introduce you to my future wife. Beatrice and I were betrothed two weeks ago.”

“Damn,” Callum said with a loud sigh. “I had hoped you would be more delicate with this matter for the womenfolk’s sake.”

“Future wife?” The world suddenly narrowed to a tiny pinhole. She swayed on her feet.

Callum was instantly at her side.

Gwendolyn forced herself to take long, steadying breaths until she finally brought herself under control. She rubbed her arms. They felt cold and numb. “I suppose congratulations are in order,” she said hoarsely.

“The Isle Council put forth the match now that I am chief of the Clan MacLeod. It all happened before I returned home to Dunvegan.”

Pain and sorrow rolled over her in a relentless tide even as she tried to remind herself of her plans to leave this castle and make a life of her own with her siblings where no one could ever imprison her again. Yet at the first challenge to her independence, she’d fallen victim to her desires. A surge of heat rushed through her veins again at the memory of the passion Alastair had evoked. She blinked, inwardly shook her head, and tried to concentrate on the here and now. Her only purpose for remaining at Dunvegan was because of Arabella. “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to return to my sister.” Without waiting for permission, she headed for the door.

“It pleases me to see you’ve at least acknowledged the connection between yourself and my Beatrice.” Her father’s voice trailed after Gwendolyn. “Say you’ll devote yourself to only her and we shall stay.”