Devils Highlander (Clan MacAlpin 1)

“You'll do no such thing,” he said, outrage in his voice.

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bsp; She spun to face him, galled that he'd use such a tone with her. “You can't order me about. ”

“I'm sorry, Ree,” he said, and the look on his face was one of helpless anguish.

Men. She was the one who was helpless, she the wronged one. Men were such inexplicably foreign animals. She'd prick his male pride, she decided, and perhaps that would get at the truth. “I don't understand,” she said coldly.

“Help me understand. Is it that you're unable to do it? Afraid, even?”

“Of course I'm able. It's just that… “ He hesitated, perhaps realizing he'd just admitted he could help her if he wished.

The breath whooshed out of her, as another answer occurred to her. “It's because you don't love me enough. ”

“That is not the reason,” he said vehemently. “Not nearly. I want us to be married. ”

“You want to marry me instead of destroying the slave ship?” She put her hands on her hips, trying to discern truth from invention. “Is that a marriage proposal?”

“Aye, Ree, it is. ” He opened his arms before him as though entreating her.

She no longer knew what to believe. “Are you asking me to marry you because you feel guilty you won't do this for me? Or perhaps it's simply to divert my attention. ”

“Of course not,” he said quickly.

He was acting guilty, and her stomach turned. “Do you speak of marriage because you feel guilty you've taken my virginity? Is that it? Is this proposal merely your mislaid sense of duty?” The truth of things came to her in a rush of clarity. Cormac had never told her he loved her. She'd been the one to speak the words. What he felt was simple attraction — his passion for her didn't extend from his body to his heart. He'd surrendered to his passions, and now he acted merely from a sense of duty.

Horror and embarrassment overwhelmed her. She was an obligation to be minded.

She'd fooled herself all this time — she'd never be his. She could accept his proposal, make Cormac lawfully hers. Unutterable sadness filled her — she ached with it — because she knew she couldn't say yes. She'd always dreamed of being Cormac's wife, but she had her pride. She needed to be the bride of his heart, not simply his bride in name. “No, Cormac. I cannot marry you. ”

“But I love you,” he said, and his voice cracked.

She wavered for a moment, wanting it so badly. Wanting his words to be true. But she couldn't trust them. His promise had proven untrue. How could he love her when he didn't care enough even to pretend to help her?

She shrugged. It was his guilt that spoke, not any love for her.

He mistook her shrug. Perhaps he thought it was assent, but he leaned down to kiss her tenderly on each cheek.

Her body hummed to life at his touch, and she despised herself for it. Was she so helpless to him? She felt tears burn in her throat. If she were ever to regain her dignity, she'd need to part from him.

He cradled her neck, and she clenched her eyes shut tight. There was such strength in those broad hands, and yet their touch was so gentle.

She couldn't help opening herself to him, and his kisses grew fervent. Panic drove his passion, she decided, panic at the potential for duty denied.

When she pulled away, his blue-gray gaze was waiting for her. It was a gaze that made her heart break and her body ache with two very different kinds of wanting.

She couldn't fight it. She'd enjoy this for what it was — physical passion — one last time. “Kiss me more. ”

“I will, love,” Cormac said earnestly. “I will. I'll kiss you again and again. ” He swept her up and carried her to the bed where he laid her gently down. “But first tell me you love me. Tell me you'll marry me. ” Her flesh had awoken, and she writhed against him, trying to pull his body over hers. One last time. Her throat ached with the knowledge it'd be their last time together. “Kiss me. I want you to be inside me. ”

“Not until you say the words,” he said, his voice husky. “Not until you say you'll be my wife. ”

“I won't say those words. ” She pulled away from him as all her hurt and shame erupted to the surface. She couldn't do it, couldn't lie to him, and making love would be a lie. She couldn't pretend she could experience passion without emotion. “You broke your promise to me, and instead of giving me a reason, you think to distract me with a marriage proposal. You toy with my heart as though I'm still a girl of ten. No, Cormac,” she said, cursing the crack in her voice. “You're just as they say. You are the devil. ” He sat up, and the look he gave her was bleak. “Then you should've known better than to trust my black soul. ” They both startled at the banging on her door.

“What?” She bounded off the bed. Anything to get away from him.

Fiona spoke urgendy from the other side of the door. “Sorry, mum. So sorry. But the—” Marjorie flung it open.