Page 69 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

Gavin discovered her there nearly an hour later, her back pressed against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest, her eyes staring sightless ahead.

“Dammit, Fiona, I’ve got half my men out searching fer ye.”

She looked at him with anguish in her heart. “Would that not make it much easier, if I simply vanished from the castle?”

“Jesus, lass, there’s no need fer such drama.” Gavin crouched beside her. “Ye’re going to make yerself sick over this situation. I dinnae know how many times I have to tell ye that nothing will change between us.”

“What an utterly ridiculous thing to say,” Fiona snapped.

As if trying to prove his point that naught was different between them, Gavin leaned forward. His head dipped. Their lips pressed together. At the contact, Fiona felt all the aching love in her soul pour out to him. For a mere instant, her heart pounded with optimism and hope for the impossible, longing to believe what he was saying.

His powerful arms wrapped around her, his ardent heat reaching through the layers of cold surrounding her. Closer. She needed to be closer. Fiona’s tongue circled his, urging him on, savoring the moment she knew was fleeting.

The hard, blunt evidence of his desire for her pressed insistently against her thighs. It woke her from the trance of passion. She was in danger of becoming lost, of moving back instead of forward. Fiona yanked her head away, breaking the kiss, struggling to pull back.

But Gavin refused to relinquish his hold. The roughness of his jaw scratched her tender flesh as he trailed hot, moist kisses down her throat. She felt the familiar tingling heat between her legs as her body betrayed her, yet she fought against it.

“Don’t! Stop!” Fiona yelled, emphasizing her point by pounding Gavin’s shoulders.

It took a moment for her cries of protest to register. When they did, Gavin’s head raised. “What?”

“Unhand me,” she hissed. “I don’t want this, I don’t want you.”

“Calm down,” he replied as if he didn’t believe a word she was saying.

She ceased struggling and he looked into her eyes, his expression once more turning dark with desire. At the sight of it, Fiona felt something tilt inside her; the honesty of their passion was now askew. This was wrong. It had to stop. Now! She was no match for him in physical strength. She knew he could take her, no matter how many times she pushed him away. And none would gainsay him—it was his right as lord of the castle and she was his acknowledged mistress.

“Kindly release me, my lord.”

This time her icy decree reached him. Looking none too pleased, Gavin dropped his arms. Needing to distance herself further, Fiona stood, then tried taking a step back, but her shoulder blades hit the wall. Her hands tightened into fists, but she hid them in the folds of her gown.

Gavin slowly rose to his feet. “I know the news of my marriage has been a shock to ye, but I need ye to know this is not my choice. I have a duty to my clan and my king that cannae be forsaken.” He eyed her with such tenderness her vision started to blur. “I’ve told ye that nothing need change between us and I meant it. Ye’ll have yer own set of rooms in the north tower—”

“What?” Her jaw dropped. “You expect me to stay beneath your roof after you are married? To live here with you and your wife?”

“’Tis the way it’s usually done. But if that upsets ye so much, I’ll give ye the choice of any of my smaller holdings, so ye may have a home that is all yers. I only ask that it be less than a day’s ride from here, so I can easily visit.”

Shards of red sprang before her eyes. Fiona had never before felt such fury. Her body shook with it, nearly exploded with it. Reacting to the anger that pumped through her veins, she raised her hand and slapped his jaw with her open palm.

His reaction was swift. Gavin raised his own hand. Fiona braced herself, but an answering blow never came. Instead, she saw a flash of self-loathing, an emotion that he previously kept hidden. The sight of it made her feel worse, and oddly guilty. She had started them down this road with her ridiculous proposal to become his mistress and it appeared they had both gotten far more than they had ever anticipated.

“Oh, Gavin,” she whispered.

“What’s happened to us, Fiona?”

“The truth has come to light. ’Tis harsh to accept. It makes no compromises, no changes in the hopes of avoiding pain. I now know the truth. I acknowledge the truth.” Her voice shook with misery. “I hate the truth.”

“Ye must accept what cannae be changed, Fiona.”

“I’m trying. ’Tis you who are not being truthful. I must leave—”

“No! I forbid it!” The cold arrogance in his eyes darkened, then slowly started to fade and his harsh expression softened. “Please, Fiona, give me a chance to work this out.”

She began shaking her head, tossing it furiously back and forth. Gavin captured it between his large hands, holding it steady, forcing her to look him directly in the eye. She felt the pull of his frustration and her heart broke anew.

He pressed a kiss to her lips. Subtle, sweet, loving. His lips were soft, gentle, his possession of her reverent. ’Twas the most emotional kiss she had ever experienced, perfect in every way. It stole Fiona’s breath with tenderness and longing. Yet for all its magic, it could not change the facts nor alter the future.

The earl was going to marry another woman.

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