The Highlander’s Rescued Maiden by Anna Campbell

Chapter 8

Ellen smothered a laugh as Will whirled to face her, his expression a picture of dismay. “How long have ye been there?”

“Long enough.” It had been enlightening and surprisingly flattering to hear him describe her in such florid terms. She’d wondered if perhaps she plunged fathoms deep into attraction because she was too inexperienced to protect herself. It was a relief to hear that this conflagration of desire left the much more worldly Will Mackinnon just as bewildered. A relief and a worry. Because she feared that there might be only one end to their time together, and she wasn’t convinced she was ready to be ruined.

“I was hoping Buttercup might have some advice.” He was charming all the time. It turned out that he was particularly charming when he was embarrassed. Will was in general a confident man, but the hint of bashfulness was far too disarming to a lady struggling to keep her head.

“I wouldnae trust to Buttercup who’s a giddy, reckless beast, no’ to be relied upon at all. She’s notorious as the wild lassie of Bortha.” Although Ellen had a strong premonition that there was only one wild lassie on Bortha, and it wasn’t Buttercup.

A sardonic auburn eyebrow arched in enquiry. “Is that so?”

“Aye.” She glanced around the stable, taking in the evidence of Will’s industry. She’d already noticed how magnificent he looked with his broad back bare to her gaze and that flamboyant hair cascading over his shoulders. Now that he turned in her direction, she had to fight not to stare at the brawny expanse of chest with its light covering of curly red hair. She was almost sorry she’d washed his shirts. Giving him a shirt seemed like a sin against nature, when he looked so superb without one.

His disconcerted air faded, and her nerves revived as his eyes sharpened on her. “Did ye mean it?”

Heaven help her, she’d become so dreamy, drooling over the picture he made, that she’d lost the thread of the conversation. “Mean what?”

“The pouncing bit.”

She blushed and told herself to demur, but what emerged was a single word. “Aye.”

Ellen braced for Will to grab her with those hard, capable hands, but he studied her as if he set out to translate her from the Latin. “Ye were really jumpy this morning.”

“This is such new territory for me.” Her gesture conveyed her turmoil. “Yesterday I’d never been kissed. Today I’m considering letting ye take liberties with my body.”

His confidence definitely returned. A hint of triumph tilted that expressive mouth. “Only considering?”

“Curse ye, Will. No, I’ve gone beyond considering. I’ve made up my mind.”

His shout of laughter made her scowl at him, although the woeful reality was that she couldn’t resist him. “I’m delighted to hear it.” He glanced around the dim space. “I’ve finished here. If ye give me a chance to wash off the stench of the farmyard, I’m at your disposal.”

Ellen wasn’t sure she wanted him washing. She stood close enough to pick up the scent of clean male sweat, and the dirt on his skin stirred her primitive instincts. An intriguing shadow of a beard emphasized his sculpted jaw. This was a man who could ravish her into oblivion.

She reminded herself that she intended to stop well short of ravishment, but she couldn’t contain a disappointed note. “I have a fancy for the rugged stablehand.”

This time, his laugh held a note of shock, but desire flared in his eyes as he flung the shovel away and stepped closer. “No’ our first time. Let me carry back the milk and make myself fit for ye.”

First time?A universe of possibilities opened up before her. Exciting possibilities. Alarming possibilities.

She backed away, then cursed her skittishness. “Perhaps we should wait until later this afternoon. Otherwise we’ll have to stop what we’re doing and come out to milk Buttercup again.”

“Already asking for a reprieve?”

“Maybe.”

His eyes were kind, as they so often were. “Pounce, but no’ yet?”

“Do ye mind?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ll survive another couple of hours. I hope.”

Ellen gulped in a breath tinged with the scent of a healthy, active man and swayed toward him, wondering whether she was mad to put off the moment. “Do I…do I need to do anything?”

“Just come to me with a generous heart and a promise that if it all becomes too frightening, you’ll tell me.”

Her eyes widened. “Frightening?”

“I intend more than kisses.”

Ellen knew that he did. She linked her hands at her waist to hide their trembling. “Ye want to join me in my bedroom.”

“If you’ll permit. The window seat isn’t adequate to my intentions.”

Goodness gracious. Her imagination wasn’t adequate to what was coming. “Should I undress?”

“Whatever makes ye most comfortable.”

Her laugh was strangled. “I cannae think I’m going to be comfortable, whatever I do.”

His expression turned somber. “You dinnae have to do this, Ellen.”

She swallowed to ease a throat that was so tight, it ached. “Aye, I do,” she said in a raw voice.

When the color of his eyes deepened to gold, she saw that he recognized the magnitude of her confession. “I’ll keep ye safe.”

She had a sinking feeling that it was far too late to talk about safety. She’d abandoned safety when she hadn’t shot him. She’d certainly abandoned any possibility of safety when she let him kiss her.

“Thank you,” she said, still in that reedy tone. Her racing heart made her dizzy, and her shallow breaths left her starved of air.

He leaned forward to kiss her. While it wasn’t like yesterday’s passion, heat sizzled through her. “Walk with me back to the tower.”

“Aye,” she said and reached for his hand, uncaring that he’d been hard at work and it was dirty.

***

Ellen perched on the edge of the large bed that she’d never shared with another soul. Never had she imagined that she’d share it with a man. Queasy panic churned in her stomach.

A fire burned in the hearth. It might be summer, but this storm carried all of winter’s fury. She’d removed her gown and stays and petticoats, but left her shift on. A bronze velvet peignoir lent her an illusion of modesty. It covered her like a frock, except that one tug on the sash would loosen it.

Undressing and washing had taken an age, because of her shaking, fumbling hands. She was more nervous than she’d ever been in her life, even when one of the suitors had tried to break into the tower with his armed band. On that occasion, she’d lit the beacon on the ramparts to summon extra men from Inchgallen.

Even if she wanted rescuing, the beacon wouldn’t help her today.

Sightlessly she stared out the large window, bigger than the one downstairs. How many hours had she spent surveying that empty sea, lamenting her loneliness? How lonely would her life be after Will left? He talked about taking her away, but she couldn’t see herself surviving anywhere else, except on this isolated island.

Despite her fears, she never thought of changing her mind about letting Will touch her. She now wished he’d taken her up on her request in the byre, when she told him to pounce. Several hours’ delay allowed too much time to think about what she was about to do with a man who remained a stranger.

Except he didn’t feel like a stranger. Yesterday had been the most wonderful experience of her life, culminating in those glorious kisses. Then he’d held her close all night. The notion of losing him before she explored this new sensual landscape was unbearable.

It was too late to retreat. Will Mackinnon would lead her into a world of pleasure, and she didn’t plan to muster a whisper of denial.

When she heard him on the stairs, she gave a start, although she’d awaited his arrival since she’d left him in the study.

At the top of the staircase, he paused to lean one shoulder against the wall. Bare-chested and in his kilt, he looked like a hero from one of the stories in her book. With faint regret, she noticed that he’d taken the time to shave.

Brilliant eyes swept across her. “Ye look terrified out of your mind.”

A choked laugh escaped. “I’m ready to run for the hills.” She paused. “Or the hill, given there’s only one on Bortha.”

“You’re in control here.”

Her gesture expressed confusion. “It doesnae feel like it.”

He didn’t venture closer. “Are ye sure you want to do this?”

Right now with an alien masculine presence invading her bedroom, she wasn’t sure at all. But the prospect of Will sailing away without satisfying her curiosity was worse than her fear.

She raised her chin. “I want ye to…touch me.”

“I want to touch ye, too. More than I’ve ever wanted to touch another woman.”

His confession astounded her. “Really?”

“Really.” A rueful smile. “Ye turn my world upside down, Fair Ellen.”

Years of accepting that she was a lesser being should refute his statement, but as she stared into his intent gaze, she believed him. Even the Fair Ellen name didn’t sting as it almost always did. His lilting baritone rang with sincerity. She’d never understand why, but this spectacular man suffered with his need of her.

She forced herself upright on legs that felt like sodden wool. She wanted this man. Now he’d come to her, she refused to cringe like a coward. “Then ye are welcome, Will Mackinnon.”

He must see that she’d committed herself to this path, because his expression eased. “Thank you.”

His avid gaze conducted a thorough inspection of her. When she saw the joy he took in her, her heart swelled with anticipation and gathering certainty. Chance had blown him to her island. Chance, for once, had been a benevolent influence.

He waved a hand in her direction. “I’m so pleased ye didnae let down your hair. The thought of unpinning all that gold silk has fueled my dreams.”

Ellen might have decided that she was doing this, but her hand shook when she touched the plain knot. “I didnae ken.”

He straightened from his elegant slouch and stepped forward. “You ken now.”

Her heart gave a drunken lurch at his intent expression. In this pretty room full of feminine gewgaws, he seemed impossibly tall and strong. She waited for him to seize her, the way he had when he kissed her last night. But he remained still and watchful.

“Meet me,” he murmured, the soft words as weighty as a punch to the solar plexus.

Half-resentful surprise rushed through her. It seemed that he’d meant it when he said she was in control. He expected her to take responsibility for what they did together today – and until the storm died away. If she hoped to salve her conscience by saying he’d lured her into yielding, she was to be disappointed.

When she took a step, she couldn’t help wincing at her lack of grace. She cast him a pleading glance. “I’m close to the bed.”

“We willnae be in the bed for a little while yet.” His smile conveyed the tenderness that she’d always recognized as his greatest weapon against her. Her aching heart yearned toward him, starving for the sweetness that flowed alongside his potency.

She sucked in a breath and took another step, surer this time. He wanted her complete self, flaws and qualities alike. As her gaze locked with his, she read acceptance. Acceptance she’d never found before.

Ellen drew her first full breath in what felt like hours and squared her shoulders. Her next few steps were firm and determined. When she was mere inches away, he reached out and caught her up in a kiss that set the air on fire.