Cates, Kimberly (24 page)

Jealousy slashed him with savage talons. "If that cur so much as touches you, I'll—"

"You won't be there to face him!" she shouted, tugging the shift over her head as if to shield the fragile places inside her from Gavin's betrayal. "You'll be out riding that hell-spawned horse of yours, trying to get yourself killed. No, if anyone has to attempt to explain what happened here, it will be me. What should I tell him, Gavin? That I fell in love with the man who kidnapped me? That I did everything I could think of to get you to make love to me?"

"Damn it, Rachel, what happened here wasn't your fault. It was mine."

"How dare you! How dare you turn the most beautiful moments of my life into one more cross for the great and noble Glen Lyon to bear? Or is that what you want? To take responsibility for this as well? Maybe I should tell Dunstan that you forced me into your bed. That would make everything nice and tidy, wouldn't it?"

"Tell him whatever you like," Gavin bellowed. "Doubtless, Wells would believe it. He'd know you'd never want a coward in your bed."

They were hurting each other, driving in wedges of pain and distance where there had been wonder beyond imagining.

Eyes dry and aching, he stared at the woman dragging on her garments. Her chin jutted out in a stubborn attempt to disguise her hurt and confusion. The joy that had illuminated her eyes and glossed her beautiful face had vanished. His worst fear had become reality. The bleakness that had haunted Gavin for so long now shadowed Rachel's eyes as well.

Grabbing up his boots and shirt, Gavin stalked from the cottage into the dawn. Wildfire scourged his soul, leaving only a wasteland, barren and bleak. In that frozen instant, the magic he had craved since he'd been a dreamy-eyed boy poured through his hands, leaving him emptier than ever before.

God, what had he done? Not only had he stolen Rachel's virginity, ruined her when he'd had no intention of marrying her, he'd crushed her hopes of marriage to another man. But most unforgivable of all, he'd put her in danger.

What lengths would the arrogant Sir Dunstan go to if he discovered that his betrothed had bedded his worst enemy? Would the knight seek vengeance on Rachel with the same ruthlessness as he did the Jacobites he hated?

Feral protectiveness awakened the beast inside him, the beast that would glory in Dunstan Wells's blood if he ever dared to hurt this woman.

No.
Gavin brought himself up sharply, terrified by the force of the rage inside him. Dunstan would have no power over her. Despite her anger at Gavin's betrayal, Rachel had said she would not wed Dunstan. She would marry another man someday. Gavin wanted her to—as much as it hurt to admit it. She deserved love after years of being alone, and a family, a home where she would be cherished and safe.

But could she wed another man when Gavin had already taken her maidenhead? Was it possible that in his selfish need, his heedless passion, he'd put that dream beyond her reach forever?

He could only pray that any man worthy of Rachel wouldn't care if she had shared Gavin's bed. Surely there was a man out there, somewhere, who would realize what a treasure she was, be so grateful for the chance to love her that what had happened in this cottage wouldn't matter.

But it would matter to Rachel, Gavin knew with sick certainty. This night would change her world forever. No bridal dreams or memories of tender loving, no glowing candles would mark her introduction into love. It would be forever shadowed by memories of this crude croft and fugitives fleeing from Armageddon, a makeshift mattress before a peat fire and the hunger of desire offset by hunger in her belly.

It would be tainted forever with disillusionment and betrayal, for he had betrayed her with the same fierceness as he loved her.

She'd spent a lifetime controlling her emotions, keeping them leashed so they couldn't cut her, burn her, destroy the illusion of strength that had been her shield against the world. Yet for him, she had surrendered that shield and trusted him.

And he had taught her well—shown her that she'd been right to hold herself apart all those years, safe in her castle of detachment and control. He'd given her the briefest glimpse of love and joy, then left her alone to bear the searing, inevitable storm of pain.

The soft whicker of Manslayer intruded, the horse nudging Gavin, its eyes large and liquid, filled with the devotion that had shone in them since the day Gavin had taken him from a brutal master.

Gavin smoothed his hand along the beast's silky neck. "I taught her to cry," he rasped. "Damn me to hell, I taught her to cry."

The knowledge buried itself like a knife blade in his soul.

He stilled at the sound of a footfall behind him and turned to see Rachel in the croft's doorway, the vines trailing along the whitewashed walls framing her with a delicate wreath of enchantment, the thatch glowing like spun gold in the first rays of the sun.

She would have been the picture of enchantment, a living, breathing dream, if he hadn't looked at her face. Her eyes were wary and chill, as if she'd drawn shut some invisible gateway inside herself, and was already closing him out.
No, she hadn't shut that gate herself,
Gavin thought grimly.
I
did it for her, reached inside her heart and slammed it shut regardless of how much it hurt us both.

He walked over to her in silence and lifted her up onto the horse, then mounted behind her. She said not a word, her face still as a marble statue, as distant and unreachable as the moon.

It was better this way, Gavin assured himself, better for her to be angry, to see him as coward, betrayer. Perhaps one day she could even learn to hate him as he deserved. Why was it the prospect was the most agonizing one he'd ever known?

Gavin wheeled Manslayer in a prancing circle, as if attempting to get the restive beast under control. But in truth, Gavin wanted one more glimpse of the tiny cottage where dreams had been spun. Already, the dawn was painting it impossible pinks and mauves and golds, the hill seeming to enfold it in wings of shadow. Gavin wouldn't have been surprised to see it vanish, melt into the mist as unreal as a fairy kingdom woven from legend or bard song.

All his life, Gavin had believed the ache in his spirit was because he wanted a place of his own—an estate, a grand house tucked in England's hills, land and tenants, crops and meadows dotted with sheep and golden ricks of hay.

But he'd never realized that what he craved wasn't a building or rooms or even fertile fields. From the time he'd been a boy, wandering through the wreckage of his parents' marriage, he'd been searching for somewhere to belong.

God, what irony that he should discover after all this time that it wasn't a
place,
but rather, a
feeling—
the feeling he'd captured in that humble croft with Rachel, a blending of souls, of goals, of hearts.

Rachel...
words dammed up in his throat, hard as stone, suffocating him with the need to spill out the emotions locked inside him.

He clenched his jaw against the tide of words until it ached. Christ, what good would it do to tell her, tell her how much last night had meant to him? That her face would be the last thing he'd picture before he went to his death? That her voice would speak to him in his heart for all eternity? Such savagely tender confessions would only make it more unbearable when he did what he had to do and walked away.

Trapped behind walls of silence, Gavin spurred Manslayer away from the enchanted cottage, carrying his lady back to the reality of a rebel's cave and frightened orphans, soldiers hunting and a future that could never be.

It was the hardest thing the Glen Lyon had ever done. Yet even that anguish paled to nothing in comparison to the knowledge that seared his heart.

This would be the last time Gavin would ever hold his lady in his arms.

CHAPTER 15

Rachel struggled to hold herself as far from the wall of Gavin's chest as possible, a futile effort as each clop of the horse's hooves jarred her deeper into the arms of the man who had shattered her heart. Shattered it? No. Bruised it a little. All right-battered the blazes out of it. But not shattered it. The daughter of Lord General de Lacey was not made of such fragile stuff. And Gavin Carstares was about to discover that truth for himself.

Confound the man, Rachel cursed in silent fury. He'd done everything in his power to drive her away from him in that tiny, peat smoke-scented cottage. He'd infuriated her, hurt her, betrayed her so savagely that she might actually have driven him from her heart if it hadn't been for the piercing glimpses of desolation she'd seen in his storm-cloud gaze.

He'd used every weapon possible to keep her away from him in some warped, infernally heroic effort to save her from the path he'd taken. This man, who hated the feel of a sword in his hand, loathed the rage and the killing and the battles that never ended, would fight like a madman to keep her from sharing his fate.

Yet he had shared the night magic their love had spun. He'd tasted the glittering beauty of their kisses, felt the mutual wild response in every brush of their fingertips, the communion of spirits beyond imagining. It was too late to turn back now, to break the bonds he'd woven between their souls.

Nothing—neither threat of danger nor hurtful words, not even the unspeakable horror of losing him in a rush of violence—could drive her from his side. Because in spite of all he had said, she had seen the love in his eyes, the desperate longing, the shadow of hope some part of his soul still clung to.

Damn you, Gavin, you picked a bloody inconvenient time to play hero! I won't let you give me up as if you were some knight errant on some holy quest. I'll seep so deeply into your heart you'll never be able to wrench me free, not even to protect me from yourself.

She felt him suck in a bracing breath as they crested a rise that seemed familiar.

"Rachel."

It was the first time he'd spoken since they had set out that morning. She was furious at how hungry she was for the rough-velvet sound of his voice.

"I want you to know that I won't be sharing the cave room anymore." It shouldn't have surprised her. It had been miserable enough after one kiss, fighting to stay away from each other. Their lovemaking would make it near impossible. It shouldn't have hurt so much. But his rejection buried pain so deep inside her that it shoved the breath from her lungs.

"The door will be open," he continued. "You'll be allowed to come and go as you please."

"Trust you to be an innovative villain. A hostage held without shackles. Just think, I'll be free to race off into the Highlands again whenever the spirit moves me. It will give me such power. Imagine. I will be able to take away the only weapon you have to get the soldiers to allow your ship to anchor in the inlet."

"You won't leave," he said with quiet certainty.

"And you won't stay." It took all her strength to keep her voice from breaking. "You'll avoid me as if I have the plague. God forbid that Saint Gavin slip from his pedestal again, that you be tempted to kiss me, make love to me."

He didn't say a word. But she felt his muscles go rigid, his jaw clench where it pressed against her curls. Even his knuckles on the reins whitened in contrast to the dark leather. His fiercely held control enraged her when she felt as if she were crumbling to pieces.

"Tell me, Gavin, what is the Glen Lyon's exalted plan this time? Surely we won't charge up and tell Mama Fee the truth about what happened between us. No. That would be the logical thing, the fair thing to do. We'll just pretend everything is the same. Let her keep stitching on that wedding gown I'll never wear. Let her keep waiting for a son who will never come home to her. It should be even easier to make her believe we're in love since now you've bedded me."

She felt Gavin's muscles stiffen as if she'd dealt him a blow, but his voice was infuriatingly even and reasonable.

"There are only a few days until the ship arrives at Cairnleven," he said. "We'll get through it somehow."

"A few days to endure before I'm swept out of your life? I'm not going anywhere, Gavin. I'm not leaving you. Your infernal honor be damned!"

"You're going back where you'll be safe."

"Am I? And how are you going to achieve that feat, oh brave and mighty Glen Lyon? What are you going to do? Tie me up and attempt to
un
kidnap me? Bind me and gag me and dump me into my bedchamber? Are you going to set guards up to make certain I stay there?"

"I won't have to." There was just enough unease in his voice to give her a bitter surge of satisfaction. "You'd never be able to find your way back to the cave," he insisted.

"But I'm just stubborn enough to try. Imagine it, Gavin. Me, riding alone through the Highlands searching for you—all those soldiers preying on helpless women, and you won't be anywhere near to save me.

"Damn it, Rachel, it's not a jest!" She could feel his control slipping notch by notch. "I know you're hurting. I know it's because of me. And I'm sorry. God's blood, if I could change things, I would."

"Of course you would!" Rachel laughed bitterly. "You'd wish away last night, erase the kisses and the caresses, the laughter, the tears, the hunger. You'd strip your life and mine of that magic because you're a bullheaded, nauseatingly noble idiot who doesn't have the brains to appreciate the fact that out of all this madness, we've been given a miracle."

"Was it a miracle? Or was it a curse on us both?"

White hot, the words lashed at her, spilling disbelief and hurt in their wake. "A curse?" she echoed.

"God knows it rivals the tortures of hell. Was the devil taunting me one last time when he sent you into my hands, Rachel?"

"Oh, I'm a curse, Gavin. No doubt about that," Rachel snapped back at him. "I'm dead certain the devil had nothing to amuse him on a Thursday afternoon, so he said, 'What can I do to torment Gavin Carstares? Let's see, what hideous fate could I devise for him? I know. I'll make him fall in love with a woman who would willingly walk through fire for him, who would be willing to follow him anywhere he named. I'll curse him with the possibility of a life with that woman and children to love him. What a torturous fate that would be.'"