The Warrior Trainer (33 page)

   "Be that as it may, all those events are behind you now."

   "How can you say that?" She gaped at him with a mixture of derision and disbelief. "The Horsemen are more of a threat than they have ever been before. And ..." She was stunned into muteness by the warm and sensual look in his eyes, no longer remembering the words she had been about to say.

   "I shall protect you."

   The husky sincerity of his voice snatched her breath away. Even so, she could not allow herself to fall into that trap again. "Perhaps, until you determine it is time to leave me again. All men leave. It is what they do." Her mother's words played through her mind.

   He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted it, forcing her to meet his steady gaze. "What makes you say such a thing
?”

   She had no choice but to stare into the dark intensity of his gaze. She saw anger there, as well as an earnest desire for the truth. "My father left me. Lizbet's father left her. You will leave, too, when you tire of—"

   "Tire of you
?”
His eyes turned smoky, unpredictable, dangerous. "One taste of your sweet lips and I have not been the same man since." His gaze dropped to her lips. "Tire of you ... My desire for you is insatiable."

   Scotia's entire body began to tremble as his lips descended to hers. "Nay."

   "Unrelenting," he whispered as his mouth traced a hot trail across her chin, then up to her ear. "Beyond reason."

   Scotia caught a deep, shuddering breath before he pulled her into a protective embrace and trailed a line of scorching kisses down the sensitive skin of her neck to her shoulder. The warmth of his breath stirred her unbound hair as his mouth began retracing a path back to her lips. One kiss and all thoughts of denying him vanished. By denying him this moment, she would be depriving herself of something almost more vital to her existence than the air she drew into her body, air that mingled with his as they came together in a kiss both poignant and possessive.

   His tongue traced a hot line between her lips, coaxing, urging them to part, and then insisting. The moment she yielded, his tongue plunged into her mouth, stroking and caressing, demanding even more of herself than she offered him now. He would consume her, body and soul. Could she give him that much of herself and still remain whole? Had her mother not warned her against this very thing?

   Ian slid his hand across the outside of her left thigh and beneath the hem of her skirt, his callused fingertips sliding over the softness of her skin, bringing her flesh to life. Heat and desire coursed through her loins, loosening her will to resist, turning her flesh warm and pliable to his touch. Up, up, he moved his hand over her thigh, around to the roundness of her bottom.

   Scotia began to tremble more violently under the combined lash of both pleasure and shock. An empty ache began to form inside her until she could no longer deny what she wanted, what she needed from him. "Love me," she whispered against his lips, ready to give herself over to the sensual Eden that beckoned.

Chapter Twenty-seven

   Ian looked down at Scotia. Her eyes were tightly closed. He forced himself to lie still against the seductive arch of her body. "Open your eyes, Scotia."

   Dusk gave way to night, claiming their mingled breath in a swirl of misty air. Scotia threaded her fingers possessively through his hair. Her allure was undeniable, but he had to know for sure that she truly wanted him and not just an heir.

   He hesitated just inches from her lips. The slightest shift in either of their bodies would bring them back in contact again. "Scotia, please, look at me," he said, not bothering to disguise the need that pulsed in his voice and in his blood.

   Slowly, her green eyes opened and the haziness there faded.

   "I want nothing more than to lose myself in you. But before that can happen I want you to know who you are choosing. Look at me, Scotia. Really look at me before you decide."

   Wariness crept into her gaze. "What do you mean, Ian?”

   He braced himself for the rejection he knew would soon follow. "I am no one, Scotia. I do not know anything about myself other than what the MacKinnons have given to me with the gift of their name. If you choose me now, you will choose me forever, because if a child comes from this union, I shall not abandon you or it."

   "Oh, Ian," she reached up to brush her trembling fingers against his cheek.

   He could not resist the gentleness of her touch. He turned his face into her palm, branding it with a hot, fevered kiss. "Say you still want me," he whispered, exposing his weakness, making himself vulnerable, knowing even as he spoke the words that she would surely reject him now. How could she not? When she could choose her mate from among Scotland's finest, why would she settle for him?

   He closed his eyes as he fought his growing desire. He waited for her to pull away, out of his arms. He waited to feel the emptiness that was always a part of his soul, an emptiness that seemed to vanish whenever she drew near.

   Gentle as a butterfly's wings, her lips touched his. In a flutter of sensation, she caressed his lips, warmed them, then made him long for more of the same. No one had ever kissed him so sweetly, so innocently. She eased away and he could hear the ragged pull of her breath. "Your bloodline matters not."

   He opened his eyes, desperate to read what he could in her gaze. Naked desire stared back at him, mixing with his own gratification. She would not reject him, at least not this night.

   She brought her hand up to his chest, atop his racing heart. "I do not want to put off this moment any longer. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. The Four Horsemen have caused enough chaos in our lives. Let us grasp this moment for what it is. We will worry about the rest later."

  
Worry about the rest later
. She kissed him again. Snippets of sensation flickered through his mind—rigid muscle met voluptuous softness, the scent of mint mixed with heather, the beat of her heart mingled with his own breathlessness. Harmonious, arousing, intimate.

   He released her mouth, fighting his burgeoning desire. Recklessness had seen him through the majority of his life. He would not make one more mistake on top of the rest that would condemn another innocent to the kind of torment he had endured growing up.

   "Marry me, Scotia."

   Her eyes snapped up to his, dark and unreadable.

   He met her gaze honestly, fully aware of the enormity of his request. Perhaps no other Warrior Trainer had married in the past. But he could not let that stop him. "If you want me to make love to you, to leave my seed and the potential for life inside you, then those actions will be sanctified by marriage. For me, there is no other alternative."

   Fear and sadness slipped into her gaze. She would refuse him. "I... I cannot marry you." The words sounded as though they were ripped from her throat. She rolled from him and surged to her feet. "No man can have me in that way, Ian. The Warrior Trainer must never marry."

   Ian stood, not bothering to hide the hunger he knew was clearly written on his face. Without taking his gaze from her, he drew the tail of his plaid up, then secured it at his shoulder.

   Time suddenly seemed to stand still around them. His blood throbbed through his veins, slowly, powerfully, as it never had before.

   She caught a deep, shuddering breath and stepped toward him, so close he could feel the heat of her body reaching out to his own. "Ian, do not do this," she pleaded in a voice no stronger than a whisper. "We can be together without marriage."

   "Marriage is not the only solution here. He reached inside his sporran and pulled out a red length of cord.

   Scotia's breath came fast and shallow as she stared at the cord in his hand.

   It was obvious by her reaction she knew his intent. Handfasting was as legally binding in Scotland as a marriage performed by a clergyman. Except that with handfasting, the terms were either for a year and a day or a lifetime. The choice would be hers. "I wish to bind myself to you, be it just for tonight, if that is all the time we have, or for a year and a day." He tried to keep his voice level and calm. "Place your right hand in mine." He offered her his hand. He did not touch her, merely waited for her to choose, to commit to his offer.

   A breathless moment passed and then another as she remained still.

   He kept his hand steady, but his confidence faltered. The silence became heavy, almost stifling, drowning out the noises of the night, of the villagers, of all things except the beating of his heart.

   Then her fingers twitched, and his heart seemed to freeze. She inched her hand slowly forward until it slipped, trembling with anticipation or fear, into his own. "If we live past the coming conflict with the Horsemen, then I shall take you for a year and a day. That is all I can promise for now."

   It was more than he had ever hoped for.

   Scotia felt a flare of warmth move through her as Ian's strong fingers closed around her own. In the space of a heartbeat, all her reservations melted away. The shell of protection she had built around her heart vanished, and she felt as though she had been holding her breath for years, waiting for this moment. Only now with her hand in his did the air flow through her, sweet, fragrant, and free.

   Ian wanted her as his wife, however temporarily. Their lives would be joined. The thought brought as much fear as exhilaration.

   A soft chuckle sounded from beside her. Out of lifelong habit, Scotia's hand fell to her sword.

   "Easy there, love," Burke said from where he and the other villagers had gathered around the private alcove of trees. She wondered, startled, when they had joined her and Ian. She had been so absorbed in Ian and his words that the whole village had managed to catch her unaware. A sliver of uneasiness pulled at her. Had her mother not warned that she would lose her focus if she gave her attentions to a man?

   "Burke," Scotia breathed, avoiding the unwanted reminder from her training. "Why are you over here?"

   "We all saw the two of ye standin' close with a red cord in yer hands." His grin moved from fatherly to content. "We thought ye might be ... well, we came t
ae
see if ye needed a witness or two."

   She did not know how to respond.

   "We would be grateful since Scotia and I are to be handfasted," Ian said over her hesitation, but a spark of uncertainty returned to his gaze. Yet that brief glimpse into his soul said more than the whole of his words ever had. She remembered their conversation on the stairs after Griffin had attacked her, and the memories he shared about his life with his clan, and finally the words he had spoken while she lay fevered and dying in her bed—all those times he had shared his own vulnerability without her realizing it. Until now. She saw for the first time a chink in his armor that covered a wound that went far deeper. Slowly, she extended her hand to him.

   Burke nodded his approval and took the red cord from Ian. "Then allow me t
ae
do the honors."

   "Before we proceed, I have a request to make of you, Ian." Scotia paused, as though searching for the right words. "If something were to happen to me, I ask that you take care of Lizbet."

   "Nothing will happen to you, Scotia. Not while I am here to protect you."

   "You and I both know what it means to live the life of a warrior. Nothing in our lives is ever certain."

   "Lizbet will be cared for as if she were my own," Ian agreed smoothly.