Page 20 of In Love With the Wrong Highland Sister
She listened to his footsteps retreating down the corridor until she could no longer hear them, then she sat down and began to weep silently. It was not fair. Nothing about the whole situation was fair, just, or right, but she had to marry James. It was her duty to the family and the clan.
* * *
“Laria!” James called as he watched her stride away to the corridor that led to her bedroom. She lengthened her stride so that she could pull away from him, then, realizing that she could not outrun him, she spun around to face him, her gray eyes blazing.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, shrugging. “You are marrying my sister, and I think you have made a good choice. She is worth ten of any of the other lairds’ daughters around here, and she has a family who will love and support her should anything go wrong between you. Now, if you do not mind, I have much to do before tomorrow.”
She turned around to walk away, but James caught her arm and held on to it. Laria did not fight against him. She knew from experience how strong James’s grip was and that struggling was a waste of time and energy. She simply stood still, looking at the ground and waiting for him to let go.
“You and I could live well together,” he suggested. “We are both interested in keeping ourselves fit, we both love horses and riding, and we both love to read. I have a huge library at Kirkmuir, fine horses, and the kind of equipment you need to keep yourself in good shape.”
Laria was stubbornly silent, still looking at the floor.
“Your husband…would he have wanted you to give up your life like this?” James went on.
Laria was furious but stayed silent because she knew that if she said anything, she would completely lose control of herself. How dare he pretend to care about how she felt?
“Would he have wanted you to stay in mourning for so long?” James persisted. “Or would he have advised you to move on and be happy? Are you going to mourn forever?”
Laria gritted her teeth, screwed her eyes shut, and clenched her fists, knowing that she could not take much more.
“It would be far better for you to marry me,” he pointed out. “Your mourning is just an excuse, is it not?” He spun her around to face him. “Is the reason you will not marry me or any other man because you cannot conceive a child?”
Laria snapped. She let out an almighty roar and reached up to slap him with all her considerable strength across the face with the palm and then the back of her hand. Her face was a mask of rage, brows drawn down in a thunderous glare, teeth bared in a snarl.
Before James could catch her hands, she drove her fist into his stomach, and he staggered backward, then fell on the floor on his backside, hurting his body and his dignity at the same time. However, he did not stay down for long but jumped to his feet, and just as he was about to reach for her hands again, she backed away, screaming.
“You bastard! How dare you say that?” she screamed, then she spat at him, leaving a trail of spittle down his shirt. She advanced on him again, the rage inside her too great to be contained. “You have no shame! You have no honor! And you have no idea how useless a woman who cannot bear a child feels!”
James would never have hit a woman, though he was sorely tempted this time because he was afraid that this fit, solid woman would seriously hurt him. He was backing away as she powered her fist toward his face, and he managed to grip it halfway through its arc, trapping it in his hand.
Laria tried with her left hand, but again he trapped her hand in his, and after a moment of fruitless struggle, she gave up and stood still in his grip, although she was breathing heavily and her eyes were still smoldering with murderous rage.
He stared down at her for a long time, then he realized that she was so close that he could smell her distinctive bodily scent and feel its heat. There was a light sheen of sweat on her face, which was deeply flushed from the exertion of the fight.
Laria felt him letting go of her hands, then he said softly: “Laria, I am so sorry. I have no excuse except that I want you so much. Forgive me.”
She nodded slowly, then looked up at him. Her lips parted slightly, and her gaze settled on his mouth.
James felt desire surge within him, stiffening his shaft and making him growl out her name as he dipped his head and their lips touched. The kiss was tentative at first, then more and more forceful until they were lost in each other, their mouths moving frantically over each other, tongues tangling. She yearned for him, wanted him with a passion she had never felt before, not even with her husband.
Laria knew she should not be doing this; after all, a moment ago, she had been striking him and spitting at him, but she simply could not help it. Every part of her skin was more sensitive than it had ever been, tingling with a pleasure she could never have imagined before.
His hands were big and rough, calloused with riding, wrestling, and hard work, but they were gentle as they moved over her. Moreover, they seemed to be everywhere at once, roaming freely over her body—her breasts, buttocks, stomach. Nothing was untouched, and it was glorious.
All too soon, they drew apart, and James leaned his forehead on hers, cupping her face in his hands. “What are you doing to me, Laria? I cannot be in the same room as you and not want to make love to you. You are driving me mad.”
She did not answer for a few seconds. Her wits seemed to have deserted her for the moment, and she rested her head on his chest to avoid the compelling gaze of his intense blue eyes.
“Marry me,” he whispered. “I want you to be my wife.”
Laria’s expression changed to one of horror, and all desire for him fled in an instant. She turned and ran to her chamber while his gaze followed her. He groaned, wondering what had possessed him to say such a stupid thing. If he had believed in witches, he would have considered himself spellbound because she had such power over him.
11
After another restless night’s sleep, Laria ordered breakfast to be sent to her room, unable to face James. Her absence was immediately noticed, and after waiting for her for a short while, Lady Margaret stood up impatiently, huffing, her face set in a deep frown. “That girl!” she growled. “One of these days, I declare, I will put her over my knee and spank her as I did when she was a child!”
Eloisa put out a hand to stop her from barging up to her sister’s bedroom. “I believe she may not be feeling too well, Mother.” She gave her mother a meaningful look to suggest that her sister might be suffering from the onset of her monthly courses. This was the kind of subject that could not be mentioned in front of gentlemen, of course. “Let me go and speak to her. Excuse me.”
