The Warrior Laird (16 page)

His eyes skated over her, and Maura realized exactly how disheveled she appeared. Her hair had come loose and was as wild a mess as ever, though perhaps that had a certain appeal. As did her state of undress in a very convenient bed. When he made a pointed return of his attention to the maps, Maura allowed the blanket to slip down so that her shoulders were left uncovered.

But he did not look up at her.

She might have felt frustrated by his inattention, but then a lock of his hair slipped out of its queue and Maura watched, fascinated as he shoved it behind his ear. His hands were large, with long, dense fingers and thick blue veins across their backs. Strong, competent hands that had held her and kept her warm all through the previous night.

She propped her head on her elbow and watched him peruse the map, unsure exactly how she was going to proceed to make him uncomfortable. “Haven't you already gone over it enough?” she asked.

He continued to ignore her, raising the map so that she could not see his face. Nor could he see hers.

Clearly, more drastic measures were needed.

The question was how far was she willing to go? And how far would he allow her to take it? He'd exerted remarkable control on the previous occasions when he'd kissed her—perhaps he did not find her quite as desirable as she found him.

She was just about to climb out of the bed and test her wiles when something about the map caught her attention. It was a light tracing on the dusty back of the map Dugan held.

Narrowing her eyes to see better, she held perfectly still and gazed at the back of the map.

There were letters etched on the parchment that formed words—in French. She leaned forward and noted that the text had been traced in something like wax, some substance that would not show up unless it was coated in dirt . . . or
dust
.

Just as old Sorcha had said.

She'd also said the Glencoe lad wouldn't discover the secret. And she was right.

They'd spread out the maps on the dusty ground and studied them repeatedly. It looked as though they'd collected the coating of dirt that was necessary to read the words. Now that Maura thought of it, she realized it was strange that the documents had been rolled with the map side out. Weren't manuscripts usually rolled with the text
in
side, to protect it?

Excitement welled up inside her.
This
was the clue they needed.
This
was the key they'd looked for!

Before saying anything to Dugan, she spelled out the words. There was
sous.
And
le gros.
Next to it was a word that began with
ro.
Beneath those words had been etched
du Lac Aveboyne.

The words opened up more questions than they answered. Was Lac Aveboyne the location of the treasure?
Sous
meant “under.” Did that mean that the treasure had been hidden under the large “ro—” at Loch Aveboyne?

Maura contained her excitement. Of course it was, else why would it be noted on the map? The rest of the clue had to be there, and if she could just get her hands on all the three pieces of the map, she knew she could figure out exactly where the gold was hidden.

Maura licked her lips and thought about what to do. There had to be a way to use this information to gain her freedom. If she shared her discovery with Dugan, would he retract his ransom demand and allow her to go free?

Perhaps, but more likely not. Until he had the treasure in his hands, Dugan would not believe someone else hadn't found the treasure before him. Which meant he would still insist on collecting the ransom from Kildary. Maura knew he was not about to risk the welfare of his clan.

But she would not risk Rosie's welfare, either.

She climbed out of bed as she considered her options.

Dugan lowered the map and his gaze raked over her. Maura felt her heart quicken in response.

She went to his chair and crouched next to him, tipping the map in order to see it better. His eyes darkened and he shifted in his chair. “What are you doing?”

 

Chapter 18

“W
here are we now?” Maura asked. “I mean here, on the map.”

Dugan held his breath. She was kneeling far too close to his widely spread legs. She was so intent upon the map, she did not even seem to notice how insufficiently clad she was.

But Dugan noticed. He took in the delicate line of her collarbones and the fullness of her breasts beneath them. They were so thinly covered, he could see their dusky peaks, and how they had pebbled in the cool air of the room.

“Here, I think,” he said, somehow managing not to sound like a strangled toad. He pointed to a space west and a short stretch north of Fort William. “I believe Caillich Castle lies here in this clearing.”

“I see. And this?” She touched the map, and a shiver of need shot down his spine and centered between his legs.

He pulled them together in self-defense. “Most likely Loch Cluanie.”

He identified numerous other locations on the map, including Loch Camerochlan. Maura eventually asked him to point out Braemore, and Dugan indicated an area near the southwest corner of a loch just off the western coast. 'Twas the place he'd called home for twenty-five years, and he was not about to lose it now. “Here, on the banks of Loch Maree.”

She touched the spot, then drew her finger south. “What about this loch? What is it called?”

“Aveboyne.” He stood abruptly, anxious to put some space between them. “Why don't you return to bed, Maura. 'Tis cold in the room—”

“No colder than it was last night when we slept in the open.” She came to her feet and stood close, her arms at her sides. Her hair was stunning, curling wildly about her face and down her back. Her eyes were soft and sleepy.

He could easily lift her off her feet and carry her to the bed and—

No. There was too much at stake. He could not bed the woman—she did not even know how seductive she was. Her actions were not an invitation, and he had never taken a woman who'd not been clear about her intentions.

Ach, but those breasts. Those bare, vulnerable feet. He clenched his teeth and prayed for fortitude.

“Dugan . . .” Her voice was pure seduction. And when she stood just inches from him, twirling a lock of her hair 'round her finger, he knew he was lost.

“Aye, Maura,” he breathed. His hands itched to touch her, to pull her to him and feel those breasts against his chest.
Gesu
, what he wanted was to feel them in his hands. He shuddered with the intensity of his arousal.

She reached up and touched his jaw. “Am I just a burden to you?”

“Maura.” He slipped one hand about her waist and drew her closer. “No, lass, you are not a burden.”

“But a means to an end.” She looked so sorrowful, Dugan felt shamed. How could he give her to Kildary?

He tipped his head downward, and her exquisite feminine scent surrounded him. He pulled her fully against him and reveled in the soft hills and valleys of her body. She fit so perfectly, he had to stifle a groan of pleasure. He took her lips with his, their melding creating the sensation that he'd arrived where he belonged.

She slid her hands up to his neck and when they reached his nape, removed the band of leather holding back his hair.

Dugan deepened their kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth as one of his hands glided up her side to her breast. He cupped the full mound, then teased the nipple through the thin cotton of her chemise with his fingers.

Maura arched into his attentions, and Dugan used his other hand to unfasten the ties at her shoulders. Her shift slid down to her waist.

He kissed her neck, then her shoulders, and his arousal pressed insistently against her. He wanted to taste every inch of her, all while he was inside her.

Her arms fell to his waist and her head dropped back when he bent to lick her nipple. He swirled his tongue 'round the bonny pink tip, then sucked it fully into his mouth.

She made a little squeak when he did the same to the other, and Dugan suddenly needed more. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her on the mattress, he quickly divested her of her chemise, leaving her entirely naked to his gaze.

She tried to cover herself, but Dugan moved her hands. “Ach, sweet Maura. You are so very beautiful. Do not hide from me.”

He pulled his shirt from his kilt and came down over her, kissing that gorgeous mouth, then working his way down to her breasts, teasing each one in turn with his fingers and tongue. He moved lower, kissing her belly and moving down . . .

“D
ugan . . . Oh! No, you cannot—”

Maura's shock turned to pleasure when he pressed his lips to the sensitive bud at the apex of her sex. She could do naught but moan and arch against his mouth. He used his fingers and tongue to drive her to some incredible peak of sensations, and when the torrent of pleasure overtook her, a cry of amazement escaped her. But Dugan did not relent. He kissed his way back to her mouth.

“Touch me, Maura.”

He took her hand and guided it to the hard, hot length of him beneath his plaid, and wrapped her fingers 'round it.

Maura could barely breathe as she explored him, and she shivered when he groaned with pleasure. “Ach, aye.”

She'd never felt so feminine or powerful as she did sliding her hand up and down, then across the moist tip of his manhood. She was awash in sensations, her arousal even more intense as she touched him.

Instinct drove her. She craved more of the pleasure he'd given her, and knew 'twould be even more profound when he was inside her.
When he joined his body to hers.

“Dugan, please . . .”

He unbuckled his belt and tossed his plaid aside, and Maura reveled in the sight of his brawny chest and arms, of his flat nipples and tight abdomen. Her eyes grazed the dusting of hair that trailed down his belly to the long, thick heat of him.

He lowered his mouth to her breasts, teasing them with his tongue as he slid his hand down again to the sensitive nub between her legs. Her breath came in soft pants as he pleasured her, creating that maelstrom she craved. Her heart seemed to stop as her muscles tightened, and then he kissed her so deeply, she felt her desire peaking yet again. He spread her legs with his thigh and positioned himself right where Maura needed him most.

She felt him move against her, and her body was ready.

He raised himself over her, his arms at her sides. Poised. Ready. And yet he stopped moving. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

“Dugan?”

“Ach, Maura. What am I—”

He moved off her and reached for a square of linen lying on the washstand beside the bed.

A moment later, he collapsed on the bed beside her.

D
ugan felt shaken. His pulse still hammered in his ears and he felt as raw as an open wound. He might have spent himself into a convenient cloth, but he felt nowhere near satisfied. Even now he had to fight the urge to begin all over again, to revel in Maura's innocent sensuality, to plunge into her and make her his own.

But she belonged to Kildary. Thank God he'd regained his senses before breaching her forbidden territory.

Her body was warm and soft, and he pulled the blanket over them and drew her into his arms, forcing some semblance of control. That control was a tenuous thing, especially when she trailed her fingers up his chest and—

He took hold of her hand and held it fast against his overheated skin.

“Maura, we cannot.”

She pressed her lips to his neck, then his chin, and his cock roared to life again. He ignored his better judgment and rolled her onto her back. He kissed her, his desire warring with his good sense. He craved her with every breath, every beat of his heart. She tasted like unrestrained need when he mated his tongue with hers. Tasted like folly. And he could not stop. Not this time.

“Dugan,” she murmured between kisses.

“Hmm.”

“I know where the treasure is hidden.”

It didn't surprise him. “Aye, lass. And so does the Duke of Argyll. I'll have to make it to Loch Monar before him if I'm going to have it, and it might not be there, anyway.”

He skimmed his hand down to her breast. And a bonny morsel of womanly flesh it was. He slid down and touched his tongue to her nipple. She took a sharp breath and melted against him. She was a singular female, and he feared he would never get his fill of her.

“Is that where you think it is? Loch Monar?” She tipped her head back and looked at him with what could only be astonishment in her eyes. “The gold isn't at Loch Monar, Dugan,” she whispered.

He stopped. “No? Then where might it be, and why haven't you mentioned it before?”

“I only just discovered the key. Argyll might believe it's Loch Monar, but he's wrong.”

D
ugan's hand stopped moving, and the incredible sensations that had begun to grow once again dissipated. Maura closed her eyes and swallowed, fighting to compose herself.

Oh Lord, what had she done?
Become intimate with the very man who'd taken her captive and intended to turn her over to Kildary.
What kind of dolt was she? Becoming entangled with Dugan MacMillan was the worst possible thing she could have done.

But dear Lord, she wanted more. The desire to feel him inside her had not abated in the least.

It was sinfully wanton, and his lovemaking did not serve her purpose in any way. His kisses and caresses would not help her to get to Loch Camerochlan. Nor would they convince him to forgo his efforts to ransom her to Kildary.

But perhaps she could try and get him to change his mind. “If I tell you what I know, will you take me with you when you go for it?”

“Maura . . .” His tone made his thoughts clear.

Her eyes began to sting, but she would not succumb to tears. There could be no future between them, no matter how fiercely the attraction raged between them.

No matter how she might wish things could be different.

She'd known what mattered to him when she'd lain with him. It was not she. But Maura did not have to yield to his wishes. She had the upper hand.

“What is the key?” he growled.

He'd pointed out Loch Aveboyne on the map, so Maura knew where they had to go to find the gold. And so much the better if Argyll thought it was hidden at Loch Monar. It would give them more time.

“You must realize 'tis not in my best interest to tell you.”

He pushed himself up onto his hands and hovered over her. “Your best interests?”

“Exactly. But I will . . .
show
you where it is.”

Dugan rolled out of the bed and went for the map. Maura's jaw dropped at the sight of his powerful body. All of it, naked before her. His muscles seemed carved of granite, and Maura knew he could have crushed her at any time. He might want to crush her after he heard her demand.

He brought the map to the bed and placed it on the blanket in front of her. “Where?”

Maura sat up in the bed, holding the blanket over her bare breasts. She felt absurdly naked, considering what had just transpired between them. “What I mean is . . . I will take you there.”

He seemed entirely unconscious of his nakedness as he stood before her, frowning fiercely. “No.”

She bit her lip and gathered the courage she needed to stand up to him. “Yes.”

Naught had changed between them. Her heart sank into an empty hole in her chest at the realization that his lovemaking had only
seemed
to link them deeply. He had not changed his plan to give her to Kildary in spite of the passion that arced between them.

“I will take you there b-because if I divulge what I know,” she said, “you'll give me to Baron Kildary and go to—go to the site without me.”

Maura blinked back her unwelcome tears while Dugan stood unmoving, smoldering with anger.

“I'm not going to let you lock me up at Braemore Keep, Dugan MacMillan,” she said, moving onto her knees, “and then turn me over to Baron Kildary
if
he or his lackeys turn up with the ransom.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I don't believe you.”

She shrugged, attempting to appear indifferent, but she knew she would never feel indifferent to him. She blinked away the tears that were welling in her eyes. “Be that as it may—the gold is not at Loch Monar, and the first chance I get, I'm going to go to Lo—” She stopped herself just in time. “I am going to go after the gold myself while you and Argyll waste your time at Loch Monar.”

Maura knew 'twas an empty threat, for Dugan would not let her out of his sight. Not after this.

She lay down and turned over in the bed, facing away from him, pulling the blanket tightly over her shoulder. She felt cold all over, and her body trembled, for naught that she'd ever experienced could compare with the intimacy they'd shared—only to have him betray her.

He was implacable.