lovers. Surely, Raonaid—or rather I —must have had some redeemable qualities.”
He considered that. “Your ability to predict the future, I suppose. And you’re a beautiful woman.” He spoke the words in a velvet murmur and rubbed his nose across her hair. “Not even I, who hate you most, can deny that, Raonaid.”
Their tempestuous kiss in the stone circle came flashing back at her suddenly, and she experienced another persistent spark of arousal, deep and heavy in her belly.
She should have been angry with herself for such a response, after he just admitted how much he hated her, but instead, she decided to accept these sensations, for at least they were proof that she was alive. She existed as a passionate being.
A light breeze blew through the canopy of autumn leaves overhead, and the moon shadows rippled like waves across the ground.
“Perhaps Raonaid is not all bad,” she suggested, grasping for some hope that she could somehow redeem herself. “Did you ever really talk to her, like we are doing now?”
He laughed. “Nay! You and I despised each other with a passion. And stop calling yourself her . You are one-and-the-same, and when you say things like that, you sound a bit mad.”
“Like a lunatic. Isn’t that what I am?”
He paused. “I don’t know. But I don’t like it, lass, because it makes me forget who you really are.”
She considered that. “I rather wish you would forget. Then perhaps you would be gentler with me.”
“Gentler? Me? With you ?”
Just then, a light drizzle began, which quickly turned to a heavy downpour.
Lachlan uttered an angry oath and steered them deeper into the forest. “This curse of yours knows no mercy,” he growled.
“You can hardly blame the weather on me .”
He grumbled something in Gaelic, then kicked in his heels and told her to hang on.
Chapter Six
Lachlan raised his tartan over his head, but nothing could keep the water out, nor could anything be done for Raonaid, who was seated in front of him, dressed in heavy silks and velvets that were quick to soak up the rain.
Her hair—piled on top of her head in a great mountain of curls and powder—tumbled onto her neck and shoulders in a hopeless avalanche of chaos.
Not unlike what was going on inside his body at the moment.
Obviously, if he wanted the curse lifted, he’d had no choice but to bring her with him, but it was no easy task to ride behind her, with his legs straddled around her sweet, warm bottom while she swayed back and forth in the saddle, rubbing up against the insides of his thighs.
He was in a constant state of arousal and was half-tempted to stop everything, dismount, and take her heartily up against some arbitrary tree, while the rain poured down all around them and drenched them both to the bone.
It seemed his careful plan to bully and coerce her was now a crashing wreck. She had turned the tables on him, and was now partly in control, after having set the rules in the library.
It was utter madness. He couldn’t imagine how it could be worse.
And then the wind began.
“I’m freezing!” Raonaid shouted.
He wrapped his tartan around her and held her close in the saddle to stave off the chill, while he hissed a few unsophisticated oaths inside his throbbing head.
“There’s a village not far from here,” he said in defeat. “We’ll go and dry out, and I’ll get us a second horse.”
He couldn’t ride with her anymore. Not like this.
She turned in the saddle to look at him through the driving rain. “Are you not worried the magistrate will catch us?”
“We won’t stay long.” He urged Goliath into a gallop.
By the time they rode into the village, splattering through puddles of muck in the street, they were both soaked and shivering.
“Take the pins out of your hair,” he said as they trotted to the stable and paused under the dripping overhang. “Let it fall loose, and give me your jewels.”
“But these belong to the Drumloch estate,”
He considered that. “Your ability to predict the future, I suppose. And you’re a beautiful woman.” He spoke the words in a velvet murmur and rubbed his nose across her hair. “Not even I, who hate you most, can deny that, Raonaid.”
Their tempestuous kiss in the stone circle came flashing back at her suddenly, and she experienced another persistent spark of arousal, deep and heavy in her belly.
She should have been angry with herself for such a response, after he just admitted how much he hated her, but instead, she decided to accept these sensations, for at least they were proof that she was alive. She existed as a passionate being.
A light breeze blew through the canopy of autumn leaves overhead, and the moon shadows rippled like waves across the ground.
“Perhaps Raonaid is not all bad,” she suggested, grasping for some hope that she could somehow redeem herself. “Did you ever really talk to her, like we are doing now?”
He laughed. “Nay! You and I despised each other with a passion. And stop calling yourself her . You are one-and-the-same, and when you say things like that, you sound a bit mad.”
“Like a lunatic. Isn’t that what I am?”
He paused. “I don’t know. But I don’t like it, lass, because it makes me forget who you really are.”
She considered that. “I rather wish you would forget. Then perhaps you would be gentler with me.”
“Gentler? Me? With you ?”
Just then, a light drizzle began, which quickly turned to a heavy downpour.
Lachlan uttered an angry oath and steered them deeper into the forest. “This curse of yours knows no mercy,” he growled.
“You can hardly blame the weather on me .”
He grumbled something in Gaelic, then kicked in his heels and told her to hang on.
Chapter Six
Lachlan raised his tartan over his head, but nothing could keep the water out, nor could anything be done for Raonaid, who was seated in front of him, dressed in heavy silks and velvets that were quick to soak up the rain.
Her hair—piled on top of her head in a great mountain of curls and powder—tumbled onto her neck and shoulders in a hopeless avalanche of chaos.
Not unlike what was going on inside his body at the moment.
Obviously, if he wanted the curse lifted, he’d had no choice but to bring her with him, but it was no easy task to ride behind her, with his legs straddled around her sweet, warm bottom while she swayed back and forth in the saddle, rubbing up against the insides of his thighs.
He was in a constant state of arousal and was half-tempted to stop everything, dismount, and take her heartily up against some arbitrary tree, while the rain poured down all around them and drenched them both to the bone.
It seemed his careful plan to bully and coerce her was now a crashing wreck. She had turned the tables on him, and was now partly in control, after having set the rules in the library.
It was utter madness. He couldn’t imagine how it could be worse.
And then the wind began.
“I’m freezing!” Raonaid shouted.
He wrapped his tartan around her and held her close in the saddle to stave off the chill, while he hissed a few unsophisticated oaths inside his throbbing head.
“There’s a village not far from here,” he said in defeat. “We’ll go and dry out, and I’ll get us a second horse.”
He couldn’t ride with her anymore. Not like this.
She turned in the saddle to look at him through the driving rain. “Are you not worried the magistrate will catch us?”
“We won’t stay long.” He urged Goliath into a gallop.
By the time they rode into the village, splattering through puddles of muck in the street, they were both soaked and shivering.
“Take the pins out of your hair,” he said as they trotted to the stable and paused under the dripping overhang. “Let it fall loose, and give me your jewels.”
“But these belong to the Drumloch estate,”
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