Leonora and her young guard both heard the sound of footsteps moments before the door to the chambers was thrown open. Leonora, standing stiffly by the fire, tensed in preparation for the coming confrontation. She caught a quick glimpse of armed guards taking up positions on either side of the arched doorway. Then the door was closed, and Dillon Campbell filled her line of vision. He looked even more cold and forbidding than when she had last seen him.
“Has the lady given you any trouble, Rupert?”
“Nay.” The youth’s lips curved into a smile. In that odd, hoarse whisper, he replied, “She saw the guard in the courtyard below, else I think she might have tried to leap to her freedom.”
Dillon’s head came up sharply. He would have to take better precautions. He could ill afford to have the woman leap to her death.
His tone was rougher than he intended. “That would have been most foolish, my lady. All you would gain for your efforts would be broken bones and great pain. And you would still be my prisoner.”
“Unless I died. In which case, I would be free of you,” she snarled.
“Nay, my lady.” His tone deepened. “Even in death, you would not be free of me. If your father desired a Christian burial for his beloved daughter, he would first have to deal with me. I would hold your body ransom until my brothers were set free.” He shot her a chilling smile. “So I would not advise you to harbor thoughts of martyrdom. ’Twould be a painful death, which would serve no useful purpose.”
She turned away in tight-lipped silence, refusing to acknowledge him. To do so would be to admit defeat. And that she would never do.
Dillon turned to the youth. “Did she eat, Rupert?”
“A little.”
Dillon lifted the lid of the tray. “Very little, it would seem.” He glanced at Leonora’s rigid back. Despite the torn and dirty gown, her hair spilling wild and free to her waist, she exuded a regal bearing. “I expected to find you asleep by now, after such an exhausting journey.”
She turned, eyes blazing. “Did you? And where am I to sleep?”
“In my sleeping chambers.”
“Your... !”
Seeing that she was about to explode with fury, Dillon pretended to ignore her, which only caused her anger to increase.
To the young guard, Dillon said, “That will be all tonight, Rupert. You did well.”
The boy beamed at Dillon’s praise. “I would not mind standing guard throughout the night.”
“I know that, and I am grateful for your loyalty. For now, you must sleep.”
“The lady is determined to escape,” the lad whispered, glancing nervously at Leonora, who stood glowering at her captor.
“Fear not through the night, Rupert. I have posted guards.”
The boy seemed relieved. “Will you need me on the morrow?”
“Aye.” The lady would have to be guarded day and night, not only to save her from those who would harm her, but to save her from her own foolish attempts that might result in her harm or even death. “I have decided that you will become the lady’s personal guard.”
The boy drew himself up to his full height, which was considerable, and puffed up his chest. “I would be honored.”
Leonora gave an exasperated sigh at the boy’s fawning devotion to the Highlander. What inspired such loyalty?
Dillon waited until the youth had gone, then closed the door and leaned against it. His arms were folded across his chest, his legs planted far apart, in anticipation of the clash that was to come. Though he was bone-weary, he could not give in to his exhaustion until the woman was sufficiently subdued.
Leonora’s eyes flashed with a light that he had come to recognize. “You cannot seriously believe that I will share your sleeping chambers.”
“For now, it is the only place where I can be certain you will not attempt to escape.”
“And how can you be certain of that?”
“A warrior learns to sleep lightly, my lady. If you should attempt escape, I will most certainly hear you.”
She felt the wild beating of her heart and struggled to hide her fear. “You cannot expect me to... sleep in the same pallet with you.”
“That is exactly what I expect. Until other arrangements can be made.”
“I demand a chamber of my own.”
“You demand?” His lips tightened. “You demand?” Giving in to the need to release all the pent-up fury that had been building since his brothers’ capture, he stormed closer, until they were mere inches apart. “Let me remind you, my lady, that you are my prisoner. If I choose, I can have you chained in the dungeons, where you can have all the privacy you desire. Unlike your English castles, where the dungeons teem with enemies of your king, our dungeons are empty. There are no other prisoners being held in Kinloch House. Is that enough privacy to suit you?”
Leonora struggled to hide the fear that churned inside. Though she had been forbidden to go down to the dungeons, she had heard the stories from Moira and the other servants. Rats, as well as all manner of vermin, scurried across damp earthen floors. The cells were littered with human waste. The air was thick with the cries of human misery.
With a show of bravado she said, “I would prefer the dungeons to sharing your pallet.”
“Aye.” He stared down at her, brow furrowed in thought. “I believe you would.” He turned away in abrupt dismissal. “But this is war, my lady. And those engaged in battle must learn to suffer all manner of discomfort. For your own safety, you must remain by my side.”
Scalding tears burned Leonora’s eyes but she blinked them away. She was well aware of the terrible things that were done to women during war. Had she not had a taste of it during her brief encounter with the soldiers in the forest? Yet she had convinced herself that this man was above inflicting such torment. Now she realized that she had only been lulling herself into a false sense of security. Here in his own land, surrounded by people who would stand by him, he fully intended to revert to his primitive ways and use her shamelessly. Was this not what she had expected from a Highlander?
She would not go meekly to the slaughter. Even if she could not win, she would put up the fight of her life.
She looked around for something, anything, to use in her defense. Spying the crystal decanter of ale, she snatched it.
With his back to her, Dillon started toward the sleeping chamber. “Come, my lady. My body cries out for sleep.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her shadow moving along the wall. When the hand in the shadow lifted, he spun around, barely avoiding being struck on the back of the head with the blunt object in her hand. Instead, the blow glanced off his temple, stunning him momentarily.
He heard the crash of glass as the decanter splintered, then shattered on the floor at his feet; felt the cold sting of ale as it splashed across his neck and over his shoulders.
It was the final act that caused his rigidly held temper to snap. His hand lashed out. His fingers closed around her wrist so tightly that she cried out in pain.
She cringed at the full force of his fury.
“So this is how you repay me.” His face was a mask of unconcealed fury. “I offer you food, while my brothers must starve.”
She tossed her head, refusing to back down. “In my home, such food would not even be fit for the swine.”
His eyes narrowed fractionally. “Yours is a prosperous land, while here the people have been forced to defend themselves for so long, they have little time or energy to prepare fine meals. But we offer to share with you what little we have. I offer you the comforts of my home, while my brothers suffer chains and torture.”
“Your home.” Though she knew she was going too far, she could not stop herself. Frightened and confused, she lashed out with the only weapon available, her tongue. “It, too, is barely fit for the swine. This hovel is cold and dirty and smells of animals.”
She felt the sting of his hot breath against her temple as he dragged her closer. His thumbs pressed into the soft flesh of her upper arms until she cried out, but anger and frustration had driven him beyond caring.
“I offer you a pallet, while your father condemns my brothers to a cold dungeon floor. And this is how you return the kindness.”
“Kindness?” She drew back to stare up into his eyes. “I know what you plan to do to me. You are no better than the depraved men I confronted in the forest. But you hide your lust behind noble words, Dillon Campbell. You boast of your own goodness, but I am not fooled by the mask you wear. When we are alone, you will be no better than those others who would force me into unspeakable acts for their own gratification.”
“Silence, woman.” His big hands closed around her shoulders. Through gritted teeth, he snarled, “May you and all your people burn in the fires of hell for the pain and suffering caused my poor people.”
“And may you—”
He had not meant to kiss her. In fact, it was the furthest thing from his mind. But the fury that boiled inside him drove him to do the very thing she had accused him of plotting.
His mouth covered hers in a hard, punishing kiss. He felt her stiffen and begin to fight the hands that imprisoned her. That only inflamed him all the more.
Defy him, would she? He would show her what such defiance wrought.
His arms came around her, pressing her against the solid wall of his chest. His lips plundered hers, bruising in their intensity.
A wave of heat pulsed between them, flowing from her into him and back again. Heat so intense, both seemed consumed by it.
So, he had not imagined the heat of their first encounter in her garden. At their simplest touch, it was there again, blazing like flame to tinder between them. Nor had he merely imagined her innocence. He had thought, from the way she had responded to their first kiss, that she had never before been kissed by a man. Now he was convinced of it.
She kept her hands between them, using them as a wedge to hold him at bay. Her lips were tightly closed, as were her eyes.
Fear. He could taste her fear. Like a predator, it excited him. He wanted to feel her tremble, to cower before him. Though it would not make up for what had been done to him and his brothers, it would satisfy some primal urge in him to seek satisfaction from his enemy.
“Open your eyes, woman.”
At his brusque command, her lids flickered, then lifted. For a moment, they went wide with fear. Then she blinked, and he could see them narrow fractionally, and darken with anger.
“Release me at once. I am not some serving wench who yearns to satisfy the lord of the manor.”
“Nay, my lady.” A dangerous smile touched the corners of his lips, and she felt the tension humming through him. “You are not even worthy to be called a servant. You are my prisoner. Never forget that.”
“You...” At his arrogance, she swung her hand out, intent on slapping his face.
He caught it without effort. “That is better, my lady. I prefer your anger to your fear.”
“I do not fear you, savage.”
“Most unwise, my lady.” She struggled as he lowered his mouth to hers and claimed her lips once more.
This time the kiss, though still punishing, became more possessive, fueling her resistance. The more she fought him, the stronger became his need to dominate.
Trapped in his arms, she felt her body begin to betray her. Her struggles ceased. Her skin warmed and heated beneath his touch. Her lips trembled beneath his.
The change in her triggered an equal response from him. Even while he held her captive in his arms and plundered her mouth, his touch gentled, his lips softened.
At the change in him, strange feelings curled along her spine. Feelings that she knew were neither fear nor anger. A warning sounded in her mind. Such feelings were dangerous. This man was her enemy. She must guard against any display of weakness. Yet she was incapable of holding back the sensations that rippled through her as, with lips and teeth and tongue, he awakened her to desire.
He’d meant only to teach her a lesson. But the moment his touch gentled, he was lost.
He was mesmerized by her lips. Soft as the underside of a rose petal. Cool as a Highland stream. She tasted sweet, clean, untouched. Without realizing it, his hands lifted, framing her face while he lingered over her lips.
Leonora would have never believed that a simple kiss could be so arousing. As the kiss softened, she closed her eyes, absorbing all the strange new feelings that washed over her. She was helpless against such skill. His lips were warm and firm and experienced in the art of seduction. He rubbed them slowly, gently over hers until her body began to hum with need. Each time he changed the angle of the kiss, the feelings grew until she was breathless.
He smelled of wood smoke and horses and evergreen. He tasted of ale, and some darker male taste that lingered on her tongue, taunting her, tempting her.
Her fears were forgotten. Of their own volition, her hands curled into the front of his tunic, drawing him closer.
His hands left her face to follow the slope of her shoulders and trail along her back. With each touch, she felt shivers of pleasure along her spine. As his hand pressed to her back, she was aware of the imprint of each of his fingers, burning a trail of fire along her spine.
When he took the kiss deeper, she sighed and moved into him, molding herself to the length of him.
His arms came around her, drawing her even more firmly against him, until he could feel her heartbeat inside his own chest. With his tongue he traced the fullness of her lips, then probed the intimate recesses of her mouth. She gasped and tried to pull back, but his arms imprisoned her and he kissed her with a thoroughness that left them both gasping.
Dillon felt the need building, threatening to explode with a violence that would shock the sensibilities of this gently bred young woman. He realized his mistake. The moment he’d permitted any feelings of tenderness, he was hopelessly lost. Now he was standing at the very edge of an abyss. One step, one wrong move, and he would find himself falling through endless space.
He had to end this. And yet...
He lingered over her lips, unwilling to step back from the heat that tempted even while it burned.
One last kiss. One last taste.
At last, calling on all of his willpower, he lifted his head and took a step back.
“Now that we have established who is laird and who is servant, we will give in to the need for sleep.”
“I pray I live to see you burn in the fires of everlasting hell,” she said through clenched teeth.
“If you do, my lady, it will be because you are there with me.”
His hands, he noted, were shaking. The realization filled him with renewed anger that this female could have such an effect on him.
Keeping his tone deliberately bland, he muttered, “A pity to have wasted such fine ale.” He stepped over the shards of glass and puddles of ale and strode toward his sleeping chamber.
She matched his dispassionate tone. “I thought it the perfect use for such swill. What better purpose than to dump on a swine?”
Rewarded with a deepening of his scowl, she knew that her barb had found its mark.
She stood perfectly still, struggling to calm her racing heart. How could it be that just moments ago she’d experienced such strong desire? How could she not only have allowed this man to take such liberties, but to have willingly cooperated?
With a deep welling of shame, she lifted her skirts and stepped across the debris. She would have to be on her guard every moment of the long night. Her captor was dangerous. In more ways than she had first anticipated.