"You've already made your commitment to me when you admitted you loved me. Nothing else matters. I don't give a damn how complicated it all becomes. You're mine now. Do you honestly believe I'm ever going to let you go?"
Telling herself she had to remain strong and not give in to him, she shook her head and struggled to get free. She pushed against his chest with all her might, desperately trying to put some distance between them. When she was close to him, all she wanted to do was wrap herself in his warmth and let the world pass her by. She wanted time to stop… and that was impossible.
Her struggles proved useless. She couldn't get him to budge. His superior strength was at least ten times her own, and after a moment she ceased squirming and bowed her head.
"What are we going to do?" she whispered, once again on the brink of tears.
She had no idea how telling her question was. She hadn't asked what she was going to do, but what they would do. Content for the moment to simply hold her, he bent down, kissed the top of her head, and closed his eyes as he inhaled her light feminine scent. Her hair smelled of roses. She was unlike the Buchanan women, and he realized he was actually a little in awe of her. Her skin was as smooth and soft as he imagined a cloud would be, and her smile enchanted him. It was as beautiful as baby's first, and just as pure. There wasn't a hint of cunning in her. No, she wasn't like other women. He remembered that when he'd first met her, he'd judged her almost painfully prim and proper, and frail, too frail for his way of life. Yet almost immediately he had seen the steel strength inside of her. She was courageous and honorable, and those were but two of the hundred or so reasons he was never going to let her leave him.
"I'll give you a promise," he said gruffly. "And then you will cease your worrying."
"And what is this promise?"
"If you go back to England, I'll go with you."
"If I go back?"
"It hasn't been decided yet."
"What are you saying? I don't understand. The decision is mine to make."
He didn't argue, and his silence worried her. She once again tried to get him to explain his remark, but he stubbornly refused.
"When I go back, I'll go alone. You must stay here. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."
Her voice shivered with emotion, and the fear he heard surprised and pleased him. He'd never had anyone care about him the way she did. His only family was his brother, Winslow, but it was a distant, rigid relationship. They loved each other as brothers did, but never showed any outward affection.
"You will have confidence in my ability to protect you," he ordered.
"You don't know what you're up against. These aren't ordinary men. They have the king's support and friendship, and surely the Devil's on their side."
"None of them have Highland blood running through their veins, and that makes them vulnerable."
"Will you be serious?" she demanded. "A Highlander can bleed as easily as an Englishman."
"You will have faith in me. I command it."
She gave up arguing with him, feeling as though it would be easier to get a stone wall to understand.
"I do have faith in you, and I will try not to worry, but that's all I will promise. You can give me as many commands as you wish, and it won't change how I feel."
"Every man has a weakness," he patiently explained. "I'll find theirs, I promise you."
"Every man?"
"Yes," he answered emphatically.
His hand moved to the back of her neck. Twisting her curls around his fist, he jerked her head back. His face loomed over hers, his breath warm and sweet as he stared down into her eyes.
"What is your weakness, Brodick?" she asked.
"You."
Chapter Seventeen
He lowered his head and kissed her, effectively sealing any protest she might have made. It wasn't a gentle caress of his lips against hers, but a hard, demanding kiss that let her know in no uncertain terms how much he wanted her. His tongue sank into her sweet warm mouth to stroke and caress, and within seconds she was kissing him just as thoroughly. Timid at first, the tip of her tongue touched his fleetingly, but when she felt him tighten his hold and heard him growl low in his throat, she grew bolder. His passion overwhelmed her, yet she wasn't frightened, trusting him to know when to stop. He didn't seem inclined to at the moment, though, and, Lord, his mouth was doing such magical things to her body. A yearning deep in the pit of her stomach burned for more, and as his mouth slanted over hers again and again, all she could think about was getting closer.
His hands stroked her back, then splayed wide as he lifted her up against the junction of his thighs so that they were pressed intimately against each other. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and his thighs felt like hot steel. He made her burn for more of him, and she couldn't seem to catch her breath as she frantically returned his kisses.
"Brodick, I want-"
He kissed her once again, almost savagely, and then he abruptly pulled back and let her slowly slip down to the ground. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, and he took several long deep, shuddering breaths as he tried to regain his discipline.
She didn't want to let go of him, and when he began to nibble on her earlobe with his teeth and his tongue stroked her sensitive skin, she felt a jolt of pleasure course through her.
"Don't…" Her voice cracked and she shivered in his arms.
He kissed his way down the side of her neck. "Don't what?" he asked.
She tilted her head to the side to give him better access and with a sigh said, "Don't stop."
He gently lifted her away from him and would have let go of her if she hadn't swayed. Displaying a wicked look of male satisfaction, he was arrogantly pleased he'd been able to arouse and confuse her in so little time. Her passion matched his own, and he knew that once he rid her of her shyness, she would be as uninhibited and wild as he planned to be on their wedding night. God help him, they'd better be wed soon because he didn't think he could wait much longer, and he certainly didn't want to disgrace her by taking her before their vows were spoken and blessed. But she was making it difficult. Just looking at her stirred a burning desire in him. Those incredible green eyes looked thoroughly ravaged now. Her hair was a riot of curls about her shoulders, and her mouth was rosy and swollen from his kisses.
Waiting for her to come to her senses and agree to marry him was out of the question. By the time she got around to making up her mind, they could have at least two children.
The world around them intruded, forcing both of them back to the present. Ramsey shouted Brodick's name, and with a long, regretful sigh, Brodick stepped back.
"Go and collect your things. It's time for us to leave." He turned and started back toward the fields.
She ran after him. "Thank you for understanding."
"Understanding what?"
"That I cannot marry you."
As he continued on his way, his hardy laugh echoed back to her.
By the time Gillian returned to the Maitland home, Helen, the housekeeper, had her things packed, and as Gillian was thanking her for her help, she remembered a promise she'd made. Fortunately, Helen was able to help and showed her a shortcut to her destination out the back door.
Ten minutes passed and then ten more, and Brodick, impatient by nature, was growing more irritated by the second as he waited for Gillian in the courtyard.
Ramsey and Winslow waited by his side, and every couple of seconds one or the other would glance toward the doors.
"What in thunder's keeping her?" Brodick muttered.
"Maybe she's waiting for Iain and Judith. Here they come now. Gillian surely wants to say good-bye to them."
Ramsey was the first to see Gillian walking toward the courtyard from the opposite side of the hill.