Juliette Miller - [Clan MacKenzie 02] Page 15

  “There you are, lass,” he finally said. His gentle tone clashed entirely with the spectacle of him. He was invigorated and energized from his hunt, but his immense presence before me gave me a sudden, overwhelming feeling of relief that caught me completely off guard. He looked so unexpectedly magnificent in his protective glory in that moment my tears threatened to spill once more.

  But then I remembered Aleck’s pronouncement.

  My momentary elation seeped away, replaced by a sad and seething regret. “How did you find me?” I asked coldly.

  “A servant saw you walking this way. She said the corridor led to only one room.”

  Kade watched my face, noticing the dried tears and registering my indifference, my anger. He looked mildly confused by it, squinting his eyes slightly in a measuring study. “What are you doing here, hiding away?”

  It wouldn’t do to tell him the truth; I had a distinct feeling it would lead to the imminent death of Aleck—or of my husband himself if he were to be bested by my father’s officer, although that scenario seemed unlikely. And as much as I hoped to keep as much distance between myself and Aleck as I possibly could, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the cause of his demise. “This was my mother’s room,” I said, making a point of keeping my voice emotionless.

  “It will be perfect for us,” he said. “Far removed from the other residence chambers. Our own wing.”

  I didn’t bother telling him my father would never allow such a thing. Kade looked out the window, appreciating the view. “Kinloch is just beyond those hills,” he said, clearly cheered by the thought.

  It did intrigue me to see him always visibly brighten when he thought of his home and his family. He had sacrificed much to fulfill the duty of marrying me, I knew. A part of me wanted to ease his longing and his homesickness, to make his sacrifice easier to bear. But my sister, it seemed, had already stepped up to do exactly that. I guessed Kade’s homesickness wasn’t quite so acute as it might have been only a day or two ago.

  Drawing back from him, I held my hands low at my throat, where my dress was clenched tightly in my fists, closed now, revealing nothing.

  Kade hesitated. Then, carefully, as though wary of spooking me, he climbed into the turret to sit next to me, and the small space became even smaller with his large presence filling it. He looked entirely out of place. His size and his clanging arsenal seemed entirely excessive in the feminine, pink-cushioned enclosure of the turret.

  He unbuckled one of his many belts, placing his sword to the side. His eyes traced the line of my tear tracks down one cheek. He fingered a long strand of my hair in a disarmingly affectionate gesture. “Tell me what has you upset. And why you’re hiding.”

  “I tried to do as you asked,” I said, a mild defiance coloring my words; I had been too thoroughly reminded of my weaknesses only hours ago. “They wouldn’t listen to me. They take orders only from my father.”

  “Then we will go have a word with them,” he said, but he made no move yet to leave.

  Kade was sitting close to me—he had no other choice in the confined space. My gaze traveled up his powerful arms and his wide shoulders. His hand rested loosely around the leather strap at his chest: strong brown hands that had killed countless men and seduced willing women. My sister among them. The thought caused my inner chest to tighten. From disappointment perhaps. I’d known he was a reckless brute all along. Of course I’d hoped otherwise. Glimpses of his humanness over past days only succeeded in making his betrayal all the more disheartening now.

  He contemplated me, his eyes as pale as blue quartz crystals in the afternoon sunlight. The glint of his hair caught shards of red, and his lips—I hadn’t noticed it before now—were perfectly shaped. As he’d once commented about mine, I remembered. I thought of those full lips on Maisie, kissing her, tasting her. He did unspeakable things. Whatever these things might be, I didn’t even want to consider.

  My husband leaned closer, very slowly. I tried to shrink away from his touch, but there was nowhere to go. His finger teased the strand of my hair he still held, coiled loosely around his finger. His other hand rested on my clenched fist, enclosing it in his own. “I’ve seen you look at me with profound fear—which lingers in you even now. I’ve seen you look at me with hopeful defiance, and even with something akin to desire. This look is different, wife. Tell me what it’s about.”

  I remained silent, noticing the length of his eyelashes, dark against the strikingly pale hue of his eyes. His warrior’s hands were unclenching my fists, burrowing and loosening my grip.

  “Tell me,” he repeated, finally succeeding in releasing my hold. I had a fleeting thought, at the bruised edge to his inquisition, that he saw me as his only friend, his only confidante, in this unwelcoming and foreign setting. For someone used to brothers and sisters and a close-knit clan from whom he’d never been separated, it must have been a big change for him. He was alone among our Morrison clan with no companions, save me. And I’d hardly shown him the kind of supportive camaraderie he was used to. If it hadn’t been for the news of my sister’s recent offers to him, I would have. As it was, I was still reeling from my confrontation with Aleck. And all I could think of when I looked at Kade was his strong hands...on her. His warrior’s grip on her bountiful body and her plush curves. And I was surprised by the amount of emotional poison the image infused me with.

  “All right, I’ll tell you, husband.” The address sounded jeering and sarcastic. “You said to me you wanted my consent and you were prepared to wait for it. Something about...” I recalled his words. “If I’m not mistaken, you said that you wouldn’t feel you were an ‘honorable’ man if you felt I was unsure. Did I get that right? You even said that if it took longer than a month, then ‘so be it’—I believe those were your exact words.” I paused to glower at him. “What I say, husband, is that your definition of honorable is laughable! Not that I’m overly familiar with such a concept to begin with, I’ll admit.” I was ranting now but I couldn’t stop myself. I was too outraged. “I know you’ve been with my sister. And I want you to know I’ll have nothing to do with you, not willingly. Ever. A month isn’t long enough. Nor a year. A decade! It’ll be an entire century before you get my consent. You can have your way with my sister—all of them, if you please. It bothers me not. Take all the Buchanans, too, while you’re at it. Or maybe just the ones you haven’t already bedded. We always knew this marriage was in name only, and so it is. Now please leave me. Attend to the servants yourself if you’re so concerned about the manor’s upkeep. Gather your own vegetables.”

  With that, I tried to turn from him. But he, very gently, held me in place. One of his palms curled over my shoulder, pinning me down and causing my unbuttoned gown to part farther.

  I was astounded, after my tirade, to see that he wasn’t angry. Nor bitter or vengeful. He was concerned. And unfathomably luminous, in this muted afternoon light.

  For a long time, he said nothing, allowing me to seethe and finally to calm, smoothing my hair all the while with his careful fingers.

  “If you find her more pleasing, husband, I give you my blessing. You should have chosen her sooner, if that’s what you wanted all along.”

  The now-familiar lurk of beguiled amusement shone in his eyes, and a quirk of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. “If I didn’t know better of my enchanting, impassioned little wife, I’d almost say you were jealous.” He looked more than a little pleased by this.

  “You’d be wrong,” I replied, indignant.

  His half-cocked grin, I’ll admit, made him look ridiculously handsome. But I no longer cared about his handsomeness, I reminded myself. In fact, I never had. Or the potent vigor that clung to him like a glimmering sheen.

  “I wouldn’t be jealous if you sowed your seed across all the Highlands,” I told him. “I simply don’t care.”

  “Is that so?” he asked softly. Still holding me down, Kade moved over me, straddling my hips. Sitting as he was, I could feel the rock-hard pressur
e of him in a most intimate place, and the contact was maddeningly rife with sensation. He rocked against me in a shrewd, barely there movement that caused a vibrant hum within me.

  With a gentleness that belied his obvious insensitivity, he drew the gaping neckline of my dress lower over the tops of my breasts, so that my nipples were barely covered. His fingertips moved across my skin with a slow reverence. He watched me with an awed expression. I made no move to struggle against him. Let him feel my total indifference to him, I thought. Let him know that nothing he could do would touch me, not really. He might touch my body, but never my soul. Never me. I willed my body not to rise to his command. My body, however, had a mind of its own and was conducting a mutiny against all my attempts at resistance. My nipples were beading under the near caress of his fingers. I was growing soft and wet where his hardness dug against me.

  “Be assured of this—I didn’t touch your sister,” he said, his bright, aqua eyes still focused on the pale curves of my breasts. His thumbs slid under the velvet of my dress to brush against the distended tips, sending a charged pleasure rush to my deepest depths. “She came to deliver a message.”

  “A ‘message’!” I scoffed, squirming under his body like a fish on a hook. To escape him, aye. To distance myself. “I’m sure I know exactly what her message was.” Of her availability, if I was ever unwilling. Of how much Kade reminded her of his brother. Of her expertise, in the wake of my reticence and my awkward inexperience.

  “Aye. A message I had no need to receive. Why would I stray from you?” he whispered, pushing back the fabric to reveal my breasts fully. “Why would I stray from this?” His breath fractured into uneven rasps. “You have no idea what you do to me, lass. I am consumed, in fact, by my desire to prove myself to you. ’Tis all I care to do. You have recited my speech back to me, but you forgot the most important part. Remember this—that I would hope, more now than ever before, that you might learn to trust me.” He bent over me, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking strongly and grazing the sensitive flesh with his teeth, inciting a wash of feeling so intense I moaned aloud.

  Despite my body’s wild response to him, which it seemed I could do nothing to tone down, my anger still clung to my earlier suspicions. But his words, his mouth and his earnest promises began to allay my resentment, smoothing it. I remembered that part of his speech, aye. I would hope that you might trust me, eventually. I am confident that I can win your invitation. I felt in that moment that I could trust him. That he didn’t want to stray from me. That he wouldn’t force me, but inspire me. It was an unspeakable relief to me not to feel threatened by him, and I could acknowledge that it was, in the wake of my abusive upbringing, a new sentiment: the absence of danger. I realized that he had known this about me. It was clever of him, to make his oath and to allow me time to adjust to him. His plan was working. This knowledge lit an unexpected little blaze of curiosity in me. I did believe him. And I felt desperately inclined to invite him, despite my better judgment. Oddly, I felt the urge to test him in some way; in what way, I wasn’t entirely sure.

  His mouth released my swollen nipple, but he continued to lick at it, to tease my aching flesh with his tongue. He moved lazily to my other breast, feasting on me as if I were a lavish buffet. I arched to him, offering myself to his hunger. Plumping my breast with his hand, he eased the tip into the greedy heat of his mouth.

  I moaned again, his name. I twirled my fingers through his thick hair, holding his head as I writhed beneath him.

  He chuckled at my feverish reaction, moving his mouth up to kiss my neck, biting gently. “Does this mean my wife is no longer angry at me?” he mused. “Nor terrified of me?”

  At that, I couldn’t suppress a light smile. Aye, for now. All hesitations had been dulled by the billowing urges of my body under his expert advances.

  “Or is this your way of escaping my wrath?” he said, his tone still gentle, teasing. His fingers glided and explored. His face was above mine, and his expression was serious and intent despite his playful tone.

  “Which wrath?” I asked quietly. “Are you angry because I could not get my clan members to do as you asked?”

  “Aye,” he said. “Very angry indeed.”

  “‘Very angry indeed,’” I mimicked in a hushed whisper, my heart beating in an up-tempo.

  “How shall I teach you that you no longer need to fear anyone?” he said. “Not them. Not me. I do think you’re learning, lass. Already you’re gaining confidence.”

  Aye. Here, with him, I could push all the treachery and abuse at the hands of my father and his henchmen out of my mind. In Kade’s presence, I felt safer and more daring than I had in a very long time. I grasped a handful of his hair, tugging gently, pulling him closer, so our lips were almost touching. But he held himself in place.

  “I did make a promise to you, wife,” he said quietly. “It may very well kill me to keep my word, aye, and I’ll soon retreat to the loch to have an exceedingly cold swim.” He gave me a wry smile. “But, alas, my word is my law. It seems I have a growing list of reasons to prove to you that I am trustworthy, and honorable,” he said, repeating the word with emphasis, echoing my earlier reservations. He sat up, still astride me. His roughened fingers idly wandered the low line of my dress where the buttons were still fastened, touching the skin of my stomach. Shamelessly, I wished he would rip the buttons open. I wished he would run his hands lower, and lower still.

  Curse his word and his law. I reached up to finger one of the leather straps that crisscrossed his chest, tracing the outline of a leather pouch that carried a sharpened circular blade. The fire he had introduced within me was now having its way with me, and quite insistently. I let my fingers trace lower, to the bone-handled knife that hung at his hip, fingering the smooth, worn surface lightly in swirling circles. Kade watched me do this. And in this relaxed, aroused state of mind, he looked more handsome than I’d ever seen him.

  In a daring move, I drew the heavy knife from its scabbard and held it up, where it caught the light with dramatic effect. Without design, I was issuing him an unspoken invitation. To shred my clothing, as he had done before.

  He contemplated his knife with cool regard. With careful force, he took the knife from my hands and placed it with the other weapons he had laid to the side.

  Kade placed his hands on either side of me, supporting himself with his arms as he laid his body over mine, barely touching me. He was covered in blood and dirt, but I barely noticed; I, too, was dirtied, my dress muddied and my skin covered with a damp mist. His hair fell in a thick, satiny curtain around our faces. The scent of him was as I remembered it from our very first encounter in the secret garden: spiced and sensual, unruly with undiluted masculinity.

  I weaved my fingers into his hair, pulling him to me. Reaching up to tentatively touch my mouth to his, I kissed him softly, delicately tasting his lips with my tongue. He let out a low oath, as though surprised by the intensity of his own reaction, and he returned the kiss, so tender and sweet I felt I was melting from the inside out. This big, rugged warrior had the most wicked, inviting mouth. His tongue played my own, searching and tasting. His lips nipped and ate at mine with such beguiling, captivating allure that I succumbed entirely to his unyielding demand, opening to him, wanting anything of him he would give. He deepened the kiss, and I could not help responding to the potent coercion of his tongue, which flicked bolts of flowering warmth to the sensitive tips of my breasts and lower, to the smoldering fire at the innermost points of my body. My body felt alive and hungry. For him and only him.

  As Kade kissed me, he increased the pressure and the measured pace of the profound contact between our pressed-together bodies, where the hardness of him rubbed between my legs. Already, I could feel the assuaging effects of his kisses. My body was softening and moistening to cradle the rigidity of him in an astoundingly intimate way. I felt open and flushed. And the sensations that leaped through my being every time he rocked himself against my most sensitive place w
ere relentless, searing me with pleasure. His body was so hard, so big. So persuasive. Yet so gentle. So sensitive to my hesitations that he swept them aside entirely. With each roll of movement, the delicate trigger where he pressed against me spiked with decadent sensuality, gaining momentum. With divine deliberation, he continued this delicious torture, until the melting rush rose to such heights I felt as though I was about to float off an invisible ledge. And I wanted to reach this exquisite precipice as I’d never wanted anything in my life. I moaned into his mouth, arching into him, rocking my body against his in a dueling rhythm. He drew my tongue into his mouth, pinching my nipple between two fingers and driving against me all at once. And there it was. The overload of feeling held for a white-hot moment, riding an excruciating swell. And then, the severe pleasure erupted in a violent surge of ecstasy so extreme that I might have blacked out for a moment, or drifted on a cloud of manic pleasure. The innermost muscles of my core clenched in rolling, sultry bursts that found me crying out with each one. I was a quivering mess, my hands coiled in his hair and his shirt, my body convulsing with rapture.

  He continued to kiss me and rock himself against me, coaxing the waves further while he absorbed the sounds I made, until finally I grew limp with the extent of my own release.

  After a time, Kade straightened his arms slightly, raising himself off me, holding himself above me. The expression on his face was a mixture of smug amusement and mild agitation. His face was flushed as though from strenuous activity, and his pale irises had been all but consumed by the inner blackness, making his eyes unusually dark. “Responsive is hardly an apt description of my lovely wife,” he said blithely. “Oh, that I could spend the evening eliciting a dozen more responses from you. But I’m afraid we’ve other matters to attend to first.”

  Of the little I knew about such things—I had been given somewhat explicit descriptions by Maisie, especially, and also Bonnie, after all—I knew that the final satisfaction in regards to this encounter had been one-sided. Namely: mine. And after learning that Maisie had most likely propositioned my husband—unsuccessfully, if he was to be believed—I felt inspired to rise to the challenge. I was still reeling from the intensity of my throbbing climax, which echoed with a gentle pulse even now. Greedily, I wanted more of my husband’s expertise. His lovemaking was akin to a spiritual experience. Aye, I was beginning to understand. I was already addicted. With this man, the reticence that had been conditioned into my character seemed a long-forgotten memory.