Samantha James (11 page)

Wordlessly he extended a hand.

Her hesitation was marked, but she must have seen the way his jaw thrust out, for she slipped her fingers within his. Cameron pulled her up and onto her feet. As she rose, the light from the fire flared higher—as if solely for his benefit. The lithe, slender shape of her body was clearly revealed beneath the frail cloth. Clearly visible were two round, coral nipples perched atop the mounds of her breasts, a darker, dusky shadow between pale, slender thighs. Cameron could not have called himself a man were his gaze not compelled to linger long and hard.

Desire twisted his gut like a thousand swords. His skin prickled with heat. His rod swelled hard and full. He longed to plant himself heavy and deep within the
cavern between her thighs. Bloody hell, he felt like a hound in heat!

Yet there was a part of him that despised himself for wanting her like this. When he’d snatched her from Connyridge, he hadn’t been prepared for this—this wretched desire! But Cameron could lie to himself no longer—his attraction to her was something he could not govern at will.

And yet…it would serve his purpose well indeed.

She withdrew her hand as soon as she was up and on her feet. He knew from the way she flushed that she was aware of the path his eyes had taken. Was she remembering how he’d seen her naked in the shepherd’s hut? God knew
he
was!

He retrieved the straight-backed chair below the window and placed it beside her. “Sit,” he told her.

She complied, folding her hands atop her knees. Cameron’s gaze sharpened. Did she tremble, or was it his imagination? No, he decided. She was nervous. He wanted her, true, but not all atremble in fear.

A frown pleated his brow as he spied the tray atop the table. Her trencher was untouched. “Why did you not eat?” he growled.

“I have no appetite.” She plucked at a fold in the gown; it was there she confined her attention.

“Why not?” A disquieting notion went through him. They’d ridden hard these past days…too hard? “Does your wound pain you?”

She shook her head.

“What, then?”

She looked up at him suddenly, her eyes huge and dark and wounded. Cameron glimpsed in those depths something which sent a sliver of remorse through him…but no! He refused to give in to it—to her,
for mayhap it was naught but a ploy. Ah, he was right, for even now her eyes had lowered, her lashes shielding her every thought.

His mood grew stormy. Mayhap she was convinced if she played the role of meek and humble lady, he would be laden with guilt and allow her to leave…why, this very night! She had sought to be a nun, but she employed the wiles of a woman. Ah, but she had much to learn if success would be hers! Guilt was not the way to sway the bend of a man’s mind. Oh, aye, he could think of far more pleasurable ways—for both of them!—that a woman might use to entice a man to do her bidding.

“Tell me, Meredith. What were you thinking of when I entered? Nay, let me guess. You were plotting how you might escape, weren’t you?”

That brought her head up in a flash. “I was not!” It was an indignant denial.

His hands closed around her shoulders. “What were you thinking of, then?” he demanded.

“If you must know, I—I was thinking about your brothers. Your father—”

“My brothers! My father!” His lips thinned to a stern line. “No doubt you curse them and pray that they burn in eternal flames.”

He’d pricked her temper. He saw it in the spark of her eyes. “I pray for them, aye! But I would wish no one to suffer a fate such as that.”

His smile was tight. “Not even me?”

Their eyes caught and held endlessly. Hers were the first to slip away. “Nay,” she said after a moment. Cameron sensed her anger had died as suddenly as it had erupted. “Not even you.”

Her head bowed low. He heard the deep, wavering
breath she drew. Then all at once her gaze lifted to his, dark and pleading.

“I am sorry for your loss,” she said, her voice very low. “Truly. I cannot imagine the pain of losing so many you hold dear—and all at once! If…if only there was something I could do…”

Cameron went very still. “And what would you give to make up for the loss of my brothers and my father?”

She was silent a long moment. He could almost see her mind turning…She gave a tiny shake of her head. “Were I a woman of wealth, I would gladly give you all that I have—”

“No. I would not take your coin, even if you had it to give.”

“Then I will work for you—”

“I do not want your servitude.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Then there is nothing.” She swallowed. “You may as well kill me now—”

“What would be gained by one more life gone? I will not kill you, Meredith. Nor will I imprison you.”

“What, then?” She cried out her frustration. “There is nothing! I cannot atone—”

“Oh, but you can.
You can
. You can give me a part of all I lost that day.”

Their eyes cleaved together. His fervency must have served as a warning, for she moistened her lips with her tongue.

“How?” she whispered.

There was a screaming rush of silence. And it was into that deepening void that his words fell.

“A son. A son…and I will free you.”

Meredith’s eyes closed. Her strength ebbed. She would have fallen were it not for his hold on her.

Quiet prevailed, a quiet that invaded every corner of the chamber. Jagged bits and pieces of thoughts churned through her mind. What he suggested…nay, surely it could not be…he could not mean…

His features reflected utter calm, a calm she was far from feeling. The slash of those black brows arched expectantly as he awaited her reaction.

Her lips moved, but no sound emerged. It took several tries before she could summon her voice. “You cannot mean that you…that I…that we…”

Her choice of words provoked a faint smile. “That’s the way of it, I fear,” he said lightly. “I cannot beget a son alone—and you cannot beget my son without me.”

“But you could have a son of any woman in this keep. You are chieftain here! You have only to return belowstairs and—and have your pick! Why would you choose me?”

He released her, withdrawing several paces to stand before the fire. Lean hands linked behind his back, strong legs braced slightly apart, he stared into the leaping flames of the fire. The silence thickened—
along with her unease. At last he turned back. His face was in shadow, his expression unreadable.

“Tell me something, lass. Do you wish to remain here?”

Meredith was aghast. “Nay!”

“So you wish your freedom.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I do.”

“Above all else?”

She eyed him suspiciously. Now what game did he play? “Aye,” she said reluctantly.

“You can have your freedom, Meredith, but there is only one way you will attain it.” His gaze never left her face. “There is only one way you will ever leave Dunthorpe.”

Meredith blanched. Nay, she thought numbly. He could not know what he asked of her. She could never accept him. She could never accept any man!

She pressed her lips together to still their trembling. “Nay,” she said, and then again: “Nay! I will be a slave gladly! I will work, work my fingers to the bone! No matter how long—”

His dismissal was curt. “That would give me no satisfaction.”

“Then I will find a way to pay you—”

“In your own words, you possess no wealth.”

“But my father does! That is why the nunnery took me!”

“Your father believes you dead, Meredith.” His eyes grew chill. “I promise you, that will not change.”

Ah, but he was cruel to remind her! “Then I will find another way,” she cried wildly. “I will pay you any price!”

“If money were my goal, I would have ransomed
you. And you have my price, lass.” His gaze was unrelenting. “Give me a son.”

She felt the stab of his voice as surely as she’d felt the stab of Monty’s dagger.

The breath she drew was deep and ragged. “Why?
Why
?”

“It is true that I could have a son of any woman. But I do not want a son of any woman. I want a son of
you
, Meredith Munro. Your family robbed me of mine. “Tis only right that a Munro should give it back.” Softly he said, “You are the only one who can, Meredith. I am the last of my father’s seed, as you are the last of
your
father’s—the last of your father’s seed will ensure that my own does not die off. When you give me a son, you will have returned a part of all I lost that day. That is why it must be you. You are the only Munro…who can give me a son.” His eyes bored into hers like the tip of a lance. “’Tis justice.”

“’Tis not justice. ’Tis vengeance!”

“Justice. Vengeance.” He shrugged. “Either way, I will have my son.”

He took a step forward. Meredith took a step back. A fierce light shone in his eyes, a light that was somehow more frightening than all he had said.

Meredith swallowed. To lie with a man, she thought sickly…and this man, yet! He hated her and all her clan. Her pain would be his pleasure, his manhood naught but the weapon he wielded against her…inside her!

She couldn’t take her eyes from him. He was so tall, his head nearly brushed the cross-timbers, his shoulders so broad, it seemed he filled the chamber to the limit.

Her chest rose and fell. Desperately she sought to
arm herself. “Nay,” she said bravely. “I will not do it.”

“There will be no negotiating. My decision stands.”

Faith, but he was as imperious as ever! He knew no rules but his own! She wanted to grind her teeth in impotent rage; instead she felt her panic spiral. “You cannot want this,” she said jerkily. “That night at Connyridge…you said that were you in need of a woman, of a certainty ’twould not be me. You said—you said you must force yourself to suffer my presence.”

“You are far comelier than I realized.” His gaze traversed the length of her, lingering with blatant interest on the arch of her throat, the swell of rounded breasts beneath her gown. “Indeed,” he drawled, “’twill be no hardship to get you with child.”

A smile now creased the hardness of his lips. Her nails dug into her palms. Oh, how she wished she possessed the courage to slap his arrogant face! Another time, she promised herself, and she would.

For now, she bolted for the door.

The effort was futile. Ah, but she should have known! He caught her before she could even lay her fingers on the iron handle. She raved in mingled fury and regret. Always he caught her, always he was there, forever barring her way!

A hard arm clamped around her waist, encircling her from behind. The world careened wildly as her feet left the ground. She was borne through the air to the narrow bed against the wall.

A grim-visaged face swam above her. Blindly she struck out, seeking to scratch and kick, anything to disentangle herself from male arms whose reach seemed to span the very seas!

A curse rushed past her ear. “Meredith…Meredith, by the Virgin, cease! I have no desire to hurt you, I swear. There are ways to bring you into this gently, and I promise, I will use them!”

That only made her struggle all the more, for she’d heard such promises before and they had been naught but lies!

Cameron was left with no choice. He trapped her wrists above her head with one lean hand, and pinned her to the bed with the weight of his chest against her own. She lay beneath him, gasping and spent.

Slowly he raised his head to look at her. Their eyes locked. She glimpsed in his the unmistakable sheen of triumph.

With the fingers of his free hand he ran the callused tip of his thumb across her lips.

He smiled tightly.

Meredith glared and clamped her lips against him. He persisted, sliding a fingertip along the line of her jaw. Glittering eyes rained down at her. For the space of a heartbeat, she stared helplessly at the hard-featured face of the man above her, a man whose harshly carved lips hovered but a breath above her own.

With thumb and forefinger he caught her chin…and then his mouth claimed hers.

Shock rendered her motionless in this, her first taste of his lips. A hundred things went through her mind in that mind-shattering instant. For all the dark intensity of his expression, he did not crush her against him, as she thought he might…as she feared he would! Nay, his kiss neither ravaged nor plundered; in short, it was not the brutal assault she expected.

Though she knew his heart lay in his breast cold as a winter morning, his mouth was as warm as a
summer breeze. His breath was not hot and fetid. It mingled with her own as she parted her lips in shock or surprise, she knew not which. She trembled, yet not in fear. Not in fear…

Yet the terrors of the night which had plagued her for so long returned afresh to haunt her. The dreams which plagued her at the shepherd’s hut were too new, too recent. And Meredith was no innocent. She knew where play such as this would lead—indeed, he made no secret of it, for that was his very wish!

Meredith went hot, then icy cold. Her mind flew like a tempest across the seas. She battled a rising hysteria, but it was a battle already forfeit. The past moved in on her. All at once his body was an oppressive weight atop her. She lay beneath him like—like a hare on a spit, and that was how he would use her. Even through their clothing, she could feel him, rigid and thick as a lance of steel. Aye, that is what he would do—thrust his weapon home, deep inside her tender flesh.

An icy dread seeped through her. An enveloping darkness smothered her. It would be just like before, she thought sickly. He would strip her clothes from her. See what only a husband should see. Stroke her body in sinful ways. Suddenly she could not breathe. Very soon he would free his rod into his palm. And then…

Already she could feel the change in him. He’d released her wrists, only to slide his arms beneath her back. She was drawn close to him, so close she felt the rampaging throb of his heart as if it were her own.

Her breath grew quick and shallow. A frenzy of fear rushed through her. She shuddered. He said he would not hurt her, but he would. Meredith was as certain of it as she was of her own name. He spoke
of gentleness, but she knew it was just a trick—a trick to gain what he sought.

Her fingers came up. She pushed frantically at his shoulders, desperate to dislodge him, but he remained where he was, solid as a boulder, just as immovable.

A low whimper broke from her throat. She tore her mouth away. “Nay…
nay
!”

It was a stricken cry, laden thickly with fear. Somehow it penetrated the crimson haze of passion that surrounded him.

Slowly he raised his head. He hovered above her, dark and dangerous. His expression was tight-lipped and stony, his features an iron mask of determination. Powerful arms around her contracted, taut as stone. For one awful moment, she feared he would snap her in two, like a twig between his hands.

Abruptly he released her. Meredith wasted no time scrambling against the wall.

Cameron’s jaw clenched hard. What was this? he wondered furiously. He’d felt her tremulous flutter of response—aye, she’d been startled but not repulsed!—her lips had warmed beneath his. He hadn’t imagined it! Ego aside, he was far too experienced to have mistaken it. His kiss had not been so abhorrent to her. Why this sudden withdrawal? Did she seek to play some game? If so, he was far from amused!

His face was dark as a thundercloud. ’ ’Why do you cower from me so?” he demanded.

She huddled against the wall, her knees clasped against her chest. Pale as the linen she wore, she rocked back and forth, refusing to look at him. “I cannot bear it,” was all she would say. “I cannot bear it!” Over and over she said it. Indeed, the wildness he sensed in her reminded him of a trapped, wounded animal.

Scowling, he reached for her anew. She cringed.

Cameron leaped to his feet, with a vile, blistering oath. Damn her! he thought viciously. Damn her to hell! How was he to bed her when she quailed like a small child afraid of the dark?

At the bedside he straightened to his full, imposing height. “Look at me, Meredith.”

She turned her head aside and squeezed her eyes shut, as if to shut out the sound of his voice.

“Dammit, Meredith, look at me!”

Meredith did, only to regret it instantly. He loomed above her like the fortress in which he dwelled, towering and impenetrable. His gaze scraped over her, cold as the Highland mists.

“You realize, lass, you’ve already lain with me.”

She shuddered anew. “Not like this!”

His eyes narrowed. “If this is a game you play, you gamble greatly, lass, for you might easily have lost all. Indeed, were I not such a considerate, accommodating soul, the heat of my seed would even now flood the gates of your womb! So count yourself blessed this night, lass, count yourself blessed that I’ve decided to give you time to accept me—to accept the inevitable. You have robbed me of this night, but you’ll not rob me of the next. The night will come again…and I promise you…nay, I
vow
—so will I.”

He spun about and was gone—so noiselessly Meredith was left staring slack-jawed at the place where he’d been but a moment earlier.

Softly he had spoken. Quiet as the night. Indeed, it had been little more than a whisper! Yet cloaked within those velvet chords was an iron warning.

He would not let her be.

He would not let her be
.

Her breath tumbled out in a rush. She was shaken to the depths of her being by what had happened…what had
nearly
happened…by what he’d said!

Little by little her trembling ceased. The pounding clamor of her heart eased. She gathered hold of her runaway emotions, pondering her dilemma. Never in all her days had she expected him to demand a child of her—merciful saints, a son! No virgin birth would it be—aye, she thought bitterly, and in a way
he
would never suspect. Nor could she deny that Cameron was a virile, intensely masculine man—no virgin here, either! No doubt he would take immense pleasure in accomplishing the task.

She shivered, slipping beneath the woolen coverings of the bed. He would not be back—instinct told her so. Yet sleep eluded her, for her mind refused to be silent. She had thought to be repulsed by his touch. Yet it was not
him
—indeed, if the truth be told, he was a most handsome man in face and form. Nay, it was what he would do…Ah, but this was rich! The one thing he sought…was the one thing she’d been so convinced he did not wish of her!

What was it he’d said?
I’ve decided to give you time to accept me
. Accept him, she thought with a shudder. Nay, she could not! Never in this world.

She’d gained a reprieve. But for how long…
how long
?

If she were to heed his warning, but a single night was all she had.

In the tower room directly across from hers, Cameron sought solace in the dregs of a pitcher of wine. His desire was unchecked, his passion unquenched. It was this, the darker side of the soul, that urged him to storm back to her room and take what she refused
to give—to teach her that he was master and he would not be ruled by a woman’s weakness! Yet Cameron knew that he would not. He’d never taken a woman against her will—indeed, there had never been any need—and he’d not start with this one.

His pride had been stung, he admitted. He stared into his wine, two deep grooves etched between his brows. What the devil had come over her? Naught had gone as planned, as he’d hoped! Aye, he’d expected some resistance, a little maidenly fright, but he’d certainly not considered it an insurmountable obstacle. He was neither selfish nor inattentive when it came to pleasing a woman—her gratification but fueled his own—and so he’d have shown her, had she but given him the chance! He’d thought to kiss her, to seduce her into warm, melting surrender…to stroke her lissome young body until she clung to him in fevered ecstasy, panting for his possession.