Page 63 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
But even as he spoke, he could feel her retreating emotionally, could see the walls slamming back into place behind her eyes. The woman who’d melted in his arms just mere moments ago was disappearing, replaced by the guarded prisoner who trusted nothing and no one.
Nae. Dinnae run from this. Dinnae run from me.
“Nay,” she breathed. “This cannae be happenin’…”
“Rhona–”
But she was already backing away, her hands pressed to her lips as if she could somehow take back what had just happened.
“I have tae go,” she said quickly, her voice higher than usual. “I need tae… I cannae…”
“Wait.” Ian reached for her, put she pulled away.
“Nae!” She spun back to face him, her eyes wild. “Dinnae ye see? This is exactly why I cannae marry ye!”
“Because of a kiss?” Ian felt completely lost. “I thought this is what ye wanted, Rhona. Ye’re nae makin’ any sense–”
“Because when ye touch me, I forget everythin’ else!” The words burst out of her like a confession torn from her soul. “Because when ye look at me like that, I dinnae care about clan loyalty or political consequences or any of the things Ishouldbe carin’ about!”
Ian stared at her, understanding beginning to dawn.
She’s afraid. Nae of me, but of what I make her feel.
“Rhona, I–”
“I was supposed tae hate ye!” she continued, “Ye’re me enemy. Ye’ve kept me prisoner fer months. And instead of fightin’ that, I’m standin’ here wishin’ ye would kiss me again!”
Ian took a step closer, his heart pounding with hope and tenderness and something that sent a titillating shiver towards his abdomen. “Would that truly be such a terrible thing, lass?”
“Och, aye!” The words came out as a desperate sob. “Because if I let meself care about ye – really care – then what happens when all this falls apart? What happens when yer Council decides that I’m more trouble than I’m worth, or when me faither comes fer me with an army at his back?”
“Then we’ll face it taegether–”
“Taegether?” she laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Ian, ye dinnae understand. If I marry ye, I’m betrayin’ everything I was raised tae believe. And if I dinnae… if I dinnae, then I’m betrayin’ me own heart.”
She turned and fled toward the castle before Ian could respond, leaving him standing there alone in the courtyard with the taste of her on his lips and the echo of her words ringing in his ears. The evening wind carried the scent of her back toward him, a cruel reminder of just how perfectly she had fit into his arms just moments before.
If I dinnae, then I’m betrayin’ me own heart.
Ian stared after her retreating figure, his mind reeling from everything that had transpired that day. The kiss itself had altered something fundamental between them – had stripped away all pretense and left them both raw and exposed.
How on earth could something so right feel so impossible? The ever logical part of him understood her fears and concerns, even respected them. But the man in him – the part that had gotten a fleeting taste of her surrender, felt her melt against him like she belonged there, like she wanted to be there – that part wanted to chase after her, to pin her against the cold, hard castle wall, and kiss away any doubt until she admitted the truth they both knew.
Och, but it was perfect.And now I ken the truth.
She cared for him. Despite the circumstances of their meeting, the political impossibility of their situation and the tangible threats that surrounded them – she cared for him.
But she was terrified of it. Ian couldn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes, he might feel exactly the same way. The real question was: what was he going to do about it?
As he watched her disappear through the castle doors, Ian realized that his carefully planned marriage proposal had just become something far more complicated and precarious than he’d ever imagined.
She had kissed him back like she meant it. And in doing so, she’d revealed the one truth that changed everything. Now he just had to figure out how to convince her that love was worth fighting for – even if it meant fighting against everything they’d been taught to believe.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The MacPherson military camp, Scottish borderlands
“Fools! Bloody incompetent fools, every last one of ye!”
