The MacKinnon’s Bride(56)

She wanted to give him everything. And her body was all she had.

Hope, like weak candlelight, flickered within her heart.

For an instant she thought he might, for he stared down at her as though he would, his heart beating as fiercely as her own, his breathing as labored. She almost drew him down to her, so much did she wish for it, craving the gentle reassurance of his warm lips, the hunger in his kiss.

He came so close...

She could almost sense the heat of his mouth so near her own that her stomach fluttered wildly. His embrace tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh. In that intimate position they remained for what seemed an eternity—a heartbeat too long, for she lost the chance to lift her mouth to his lips and ask for what he would give her in that wordless language that lovers shared.

“We should go now,” he said, and Page’s heart knotted with regret.

“Yes,” Page replied softly, sullenly. “Afore it gets dark.”

He chuckled and squeezed her playfully. “Och, lass, but it is dark,” he pointed out jovially.

His laughter and his waggish tone brought a reluctant smile to Page’s lips. She found herself teasing in return. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He laughed softly. “Didn’t ye now?” And then his mood turned serious. “Page,” he whispered.

For an instant Page could scarce breathe, so much pain did the single word evoke. It wasn’t a name she’d been given; she’d simply grown into it, having carried out a page’s duties for her father. It spoke of loneliness and sorrow and disdain.

Suisan was beautiful. Lilies. A wistful smile came to her lips. He’d said he thought her lovely and sweet, but she thought him wonderful and beautiful and kind, and her heart threatened to steal away with him.

Without considering the significance of her request, she said, “Call me Suisan... if it please you...”

He didn’t reply at once, and then after a moment whispered, “Aye, lass... it would please me verra much.”





That night Page couldn’t sleep.

Her heart raced and her body thrilled with awareness of the man who lay sleeping beside her. It was impossible to forget the way it had felt to lie within his arms—as though it were the very place she’d always longed to be, and she never wanted to leave.

But she had to go.

She was more determined now than ever.

For her own sake, if not for her father’s—she didn’t want Iain coming after her, didn’t want to lose her father now that there was, at long last, a chance to know him.

She didn’t want him to regret his decision.

Then, too, she was heartily afraid she was wrong about the attraction she was feeling toward Iain MacKinnon—that it wasn’t one of the body, but one of the heart and mind.

Aye, for she was tempted to love him.

When she thought of him, her heart seemed to swell with emotions—both bitter and sweet. Lying next to him now, she felt alive as never before.

Suisan.

The memory of his whisper sent a quiver down her spine.

When he spoke the name, it was so easy to dream... to imagine him loving her... to envision the children she would bear him... to remember his kiss...

She closed her eyes, battling her wayward emotions and her private fancies. Jesu, but she couldn’t allow it—couldn’t give her heart to this man. He would crush it beneath his feet, with no more effort than it took for him to conjure that devastating smile.

She shifted upon the pallet, inadvertently tugging at the wrist he had bound to his own, and her throat tightened.

Tomorrow.

She had to find a way to leave on the morrow.





chapter 18





She was planning escape.

He was no fool. He could see it in her eyes, the devious little brain churning behind them.

Good.

Let her. He hoped she stumbled into a gullet and wolves dragged her out and feasted upon her body as they had Ranald’s—the bloody damned Judas!

’Twould be for the best, he thought, for then he could save the sawed girdings for Malcom...

He’d determined to be rid of the both of them, no matter what it took, and it would be better to do it before they arrived again at Chreagach Mhor, where Malcom was like to be watched closely.

Damn, but he’d waited far too long to see vengeance carried out. He’d as lief be gutted than wait any longer.

No Sassenach wench was going to stop him. Damn Iain. She’d bewitched the fool for certain. And he didn’t see how. She was a foulmouthed wench who would have turned his own blood to ice long before she chanced to heat it.

Christ, but he could spy it in their eyes... the way they watched each other when either thought the other could not see. It had been revolting enough to watch Iain draw her into his protection, when she no more deserved it than her bastard father did. But to know that he’d gone back after the scraps of her clothing, in order to prevent her escape? He could scarce stomach the thought.