Page 39 of Wild Hearts

"Don't fight me, sweetheart. I know it's your first time," he soothed and, at the same time pried open her thighs with his knee, spreading them for his entrance.

She went rigid with fear the moment he tried to penetrate her. He withdrew immediately. She opened her eyes to see blood smeared across her thigh and upon the sheet. She turned accusing eyes upon him. "I told you you were too big for me. My God, how could you use me so?"

"You are suffering from your own fear, you silly child," he said, trying to keep exasperation from his voice.

She raised wide, hurt eyes to his and saw a determination there that terrified her. He reached out for her once more, murmuring, "This time I'll try not to hurt you." His mouth slid along her throat as his hands opened her thighs. "I adore you, my darling. Yield to me," he begged.

"No, I cannot bear the pain," she protested, and in her struggles, her knee caught him sharply in the groin.

"There would have been no pain if you hadn't gone as rigid as a board!" His eyes glittered like emeralds.

She fled from the bed to retrieve her gown and petticoat. He followed her quickly. She turned burning eyes from his nakedness. "Cover yourself! Have you no shame?" She felt so much shame herself, she feared she would die from it.

"Dammit, wench, why did you have to ruin such a beautiful night? A typical woman's trick to make a bloody hue and cry over nothing," he accused.

"Nothing?" she asked as the tears slipped down her delicate cheeks and fell upon her naked breasts. "That's like saying I'm worthless," she whispered, and closed her eyes to shut out the cruelty of his words.

She buttoned her dress and drew herself up to her full height, pride and anger staining her cheeks pink. "Well, at least I have the satisfaction of knowing it cost you twenty thousand in gold. You will never get the ransom for me after what you've done."

A short laugh escaped him because he was not to be outdone. "I already have the gold. You watched it being brought aboard at Leith."

She was stricken. Her eyes reminded him of a fawn he'd once wounded before it died. The moment the words were out, he could have bitten off his tongue. She was devastated. With one sentence he had stripped away her self-respect and destroyed her honor. He loved her so much, yet with each word he uttered he drove her further away. How could things have gone so badly between them in the space of a few minutes? he thought wildly. Everything had been perfect while he cradled her in his arms before the fire. The anticipation had been delicious, then everything had gone wrong. He stood helplessly before her while she told him what she thought of him.

"You had to have me aboard that day so you could gloat over your victory," she said slowly, sadly. "That I was unknowing and guileless made no difference to you. It required my presence before you could savor your triumph." White-lipped, she finished dressing. She averted her eyes; she could not bear the sight of him.

He said her name: "Tabrizia--" But she could not tolerate the sound of his voice: She covered her ears and fled from the room.

Tabrizia took little notice of her surroundings or where she went. She ran along a gallery, down a staircase, then turned left into another wing of the fortress. A castle guard halted her and demanded to know what she was doing there.

"Lord Cockburn brought me," she blurted.

Immediately, the guard was contrite. "Forgive me, mistress, for questioning ye, but the earl's private chambers are in this part o' the castle. I didna know ye were a guest here."

Magnus came out of his library. "What's all the racket?" He stopped in amazement as he saw Tabrizia. "Danielle... Danielle; how can this be?"

"My name is Tabrizia... my mother was Danielle."

"Danielle Lamont?" Magnus demanded incredulously.

Paris, advancing upon the pair, concluded for his uncle, "This is your daughter, Magnus."

The older man stared in disbelief, the fierce glare emphasizing the hawk-like features and hooked nose. He slanted questioning brows at Paris; then looked back again at the delicately beautiful girl before him. She was so like Danielle, his dearest love, yet there was no mistaking she was a Cockburn. As the shock of awareness hit him, Magnus felt a sharp spasm of pain in his chest and sat down abruptly as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He said slowly, "Impossible as that seems, I cannot deny the evidence of my own eyes! My God, boy, where did you find her?"

Tabrizia had sustained too many shocks for one evening. She sank to her knees and began to sob. Paris knew better than to attempt to comfort her, but Magnus immediately bent to her aid.

"Don't touch me!" she spat so savagely, that he recoiled at the bitterness.

" 'Tis a long story, Magnus. It began for me ten or twelve years back. I was with my father in Edinburgh the day a young Frenchwoman died. She gave her child to Angus, and he took her to the orphanage. It meant nothing to me. I was fourteen or fifteen at the time. After my father's death, I was going over the ledgers and discovered he'd been paying for the Lamont child all along. When I saw her, I suspected she was a Cockburn. Later, when I discovered she was named after a city like the rest of us, I was certain. I was almost positive she wasn't my father's child— so that left only you, Magnus."

"My God, if only I'd known. Child, forgive me," he said quietly.

"I will never forgive you," she swore.

Paris explained, "The orphanage was rather a harsh place. Now she discovers her father is the Earl of Ormistan. Rather ironic, is it not?"

Magnus was filled with horror at the immensity of the wrong that had been done her. "I'm sorry, child. I didn't know of your existence." He tried to explain his part in the tragedy.

She lifted her face and said passionately, "The orphanage was nothing! I survived, didn't I? The tragedy is my mother. It took five long years on the streets of Edinburgh to kill her, after you cast her out!"

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