Claimed By The Laird Part 15

Christina slipped out of her clothes with a sigh of relief as she released the tight laces and rolled off her stockings. The long voluminous bathing chemise swathed her like a shroud. It was the last word in respectability, floor length and as thick as hessian. She would be fortunate if she did not sink under the waterlogged weight of it. For a moment she considered swimming in the nude as Mairi had done the previous year, but she lacked her sister's uninhibited ways.

On the seaward side, the doors of the building opened directly onto a deep pool scoured by the waves for centuries. Christina opened the door and the low sun struck across her eyes, dazzling her. She jumped in.

As always, the coldness of the water made her gasp. Even in the hot summer it contained an icy chill. The water grabbed at the chemise and pulled her down. She could feel the weight of the current, strong today, pulling at her. She struck out for the surface, feeling the hessian gown float out like a huge heavy balloon around her. Really, this was ridiculous. She would be drowned at this rate and all for a few scruples of modesty. She rolled around in the water, pulling at the stubborn material, floundering like a beached seal, until she was free of the wretched gown and it floated away on the tide.

It was then she heard the laughter.

Shaking the water from her eyes, smoothing her hair back, she blinked into the sun. There was someone there, someone who was floating in the pool at her side; someone who most certainly should not be there.

"Mr. Ross!" she said.

"Good afternoon again, Lady Christina." Lucas's deep drawl seemed even more p.r.o.nounced than usual.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Christina said. "I thought you were working."

"I've just finished," Lucas said. "I needed a bath."

"But why?" Christina wailed. She was acutely aware both that she was naked and also that he had seen her thras.h.i.+ng around in the water like an ill-coordinated porpoise. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Lucas's teeth flashed white as he smiled. "It's a hot day," he said. "I needed to cool off." He paused. "You yourself can take part of the blame for that, Lady Christina."

Oh.

He was looking at her and just the looking made her feel so hot and self-conscious that she thought she might sink under the weight of it.

"I thought," she said, trying to sound normal, "that it might have been because digging the garden is a dirty job."

"That, too," Lucas said. "Mr. Grant told me I could come here to bathe, although he seemed to disapprove of the idea. He thinks that a dousing under the pump is quite good enough."

"A lot of people think sea bathing is unhealthy," Christina said. "You could have called out when I jumped in," she added. "I could not see you here because of the sun."

"If I had called out, you would not have joined me," Lucas said with maddening reasonableness. "I had no incentive to stop you." He grinned. "Particularly when you started to undress."

"Oh!" Christina had never previously had the experience of her face radiating heat whilst her body was chilled. She did not dare look down. She had no idea how clear the water was here, but she was sure that Lucas could see every naked inch of her. Somehow it did not make an iota of difference that he had already made love to her. In fact, it only made her more ill at ease, more aware of the p.r.i.c.kle of excitement running over her skin and the pulse of arousal deep inside her.

This was not good.

This was precisely what she had been trying to avoid.

"At least I know you are not armed at present," Lucas said. "Or I a.s.sume not."

Christina gasped and almost swallowed a mouthful of water. "Mr. Ross!"

"My apologies," Lucas said. He shook his head. "I am afraid I find the thought of you with a pistol almost too erotic, Lady Christina." He tilted his head toward the hessian gown, which had snagged itself on a rock on the other side of the pool. "Why on earth were you even attempting to swim in that sack?"

"It's what ladies do," Christina said, relieved that the conversation had taken a slightly less improper turn. "We swathe ourselves in material for respectability."

"And then you promptly unswathed yourself." Lucas sounded amused. "I cannot blame you. Another moment and you would have drowned. I really thought I was going to have to rescue you."

"Fortunately there was no necessity," Christina said. "I can swim like a fish."

"An unusual skill in a woman," Lucas said. "Girls are not normally taught to swim."

"We can all swim well," Christina said. "We learned as children. I know the sea and the lochs around here as well as my ancestors did." She turned away and swam toward the other side of the pool. When she looked back, Lucas was nowhere to be seen. A moment later he surfaced beside her, rivulets of water running down his torso, his black hair plastered to his head like an otter's pelt.

"I suppose it is forbidden for servants to swim with members of the family," he said.

"Certainly it is not encouraged," Christina said.

"Then I had better leave you." Lucas placed his palms on the rock and started to haul himself out. The sun caught the water streaming down his back and gilded his skin to bronze. Christina stared. He was magnificent. The muscles bunched smoothly in his broad shoulders. Her gaze swept down to his narrow waist and lower...

She gave a squeak. It had not occurred to her that he, like she, might have been bathing in the nude.

"You are naked!"

Lucas paused, then continued to pull himself out onto the rock. Christina floundered, almost swallowing a mouthful of seawater.

"Men do tend to swim naked," Lucas agreed, turning to face her. "There are no foolish rules about clothing as there are for women. Put your hand down," he added as Christina s.h.i.+elded her eyes. "You will go under if you do not swim properly."

He was laughing at her. In response she dived down deep into the clear water, feeling it close over her head, enjoying the shock of it on her skin, the sting of the cold. When she surfaced, Lucas had disappeared. She saw a shadow moving about in the interior of the Round House. A moment later he appeared in the doorway, a towel slung low about his hips. He settled himself on the flat rock above the water, watching her.

"Are you going to stay in there forever?" he asked. "You will catch an ague."

"I cannot come out until you are gone," Christina said. "It would be unseemly."

Lucas made no reply, only raised his brows, and she was reminded of all the downright unseemly things she had done with him the previous week and ached to do again.

She wondered why temptation was so very difficult to resist. It seemed unfair when she was trying to do the right thing that Lucas sat there looking the epitome of dark masculinity and perfect musculature. She s.h.i.+vered and realized for the first time that the water was very cold and she was getting chilled.

"I am giving you a direct order to put your clothes on and go away now, Mr. Ross," she said.

Lucas grinned. "Alas, I am so very bad at following orders."

"Please," Christina said, her teeth starting to chatter.

His smile vanished. He stood up and without another word disappeared into the Round House. Christina started to pull herself out of the water. Only now, as her muscles locked and she started to s.h.i.+ver almost uncontrollably, did she recognize quite how cold she had become. Her knees buckled and for a moment she teetered on the edge of the pool, terrified she was going to slip back into the water. Dizziness gripped her; she reached for a handhold on the rock and felt it slide beneath her fingers.

"Oh, for pity's sake!" Lucas was beside her, lifting her to safety. Material enveloped her, rough against her chilled body. For a moment she could barely feel it, then the rub of toweling against her skin woke her senses, half painful, half welcomed as her blood started to beat warm again. Lucas carried her into the Round House and set her on her feet, securing the towel more firmly about her.

She felt horribly embarra.s.sed. Common sense might have prompted her to keep Lucas at a distance, but her dreams and fantasies had been quite different. She had wanted to appear elegant and alluring, a mermaid rather than a beached seal. Taking one end of the towel, she wiped the water from her eyes with fingers that were numb with cold. Her hair was a heavy weight about her shoulders. It was impossible to untangle it. For some reason that was the final straw. It made her eyes smart with tears of frustration and annoyance.

"Let me help you," Lucas said gently. He turned her around, and after a second she felt his deft fingers sliding through her hair, straightening the tangles. She could feel the warmth of his body; she could smell him, too, a scent of fresh air and cold water and something that was Lucas alone. It made the last of her defenses crumble; she felt dizzy and shaky, as though her knees were going to give way again.

No one had ever cared for her like this since she had been a child. It was so gentle, so tender, and so irresistible. She turned to face him. He was very close; she was almost overwhelmed. There was a quality of stillness in him now that was intensely exciting. It made her s.h.i.+ver. She reached up and put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head down so that his mouth would meet hers. He hesitated for only a moment, and then he was kissing her with the same gentleness he had shown a moment before.

It was not what she wanted. She felt impatient. She wanted the heat and the urgency of their previous kisses. Greatly daring, she bit down gently on his lower lip, then slid her tongue over the swell of it and into his mouth. She could feel the tension in him and the self-control that was wound so tightly. He opened to her, allowing her to slide her tongue languorously over his, and then, just as she was wondering what she had to do to provoke a stronger reaction, he deepened the kiss and pulled her to him so that she could feel the hard ridge of his erection through the layers of material between them.

Desire exploded in her, the heat spreading out from her pelvis to wash through her entire body. She pressed herself against him and felt him shudder with an answering need. He took her mouth again and plunged his tongue deep, stealing her breath, ravis.h.i.+ng her. She placed her palms on his bare chest and felt his heat and the thunder of his heart.

"Christina," he whispered.

Her heart surged at the intimacy with which he said her name. It felt so right.

She slid her palms down his chest and lower, over the flat plane of his stomach to where the towel was still loosely knotted about his hips. His breath hissed in; he clamped a hand about her wrist, staying her.

"Are you sure you know what you are doing?" his voice was hoa.r.s.e. "We agreed-"

"I know." She stood up on tiptoe to kiss him again. She had never been surer of what she wanted. There was such longing in her for everything that he could give her. Dimly at the back of her mind, a voice warned her to caution. This time she ignored it. She had been shackled by duty for so long, so careful, so afraid to take the risk. Now she felt as though the restraint had snapped.

"I know what we agreed," she whispered. She licked the corner of his mouth delicately and heard him groan. "But I cannot help myself."

A laugh shook his chest. "Yes, you can," he said. "We both can, if we try hard enough." He sounded shaken.

"The truth is that I do not want to try," Christina said. It was shameless of her, outspoken to voice her desires like this, yet she felt compelled to be honest with him.

His hands came to rest on her waist, holding her hard, away from him. In the shadows of the Round House, his face looked stern. "I don't want you to do anything you'll later regret-"

"Then don't worry." Her impatience almost overwhelmed her. She did not want to talk. "I won't." She tugged at his towel and it fell to the floor. She ran a hand over the small of his back, down to the curve of his b.u.t.tocks, feeling the hot, smooth skin against her palm.

He crushed her to him then, plundering her mouth with his until they were both gasping. Her towel had slipped and fallen from her in the tumult and every last inch of their bare skin was now pressed together, hard against soft, hotter than she could have imagined. It was two steps to the wide sofa that stood before the window. The light flowed in, bathing it in a golden glow. Lucas laid her down on it and straightened to look at her as she lay tumbled in naked abandonment. She felt a flash of self-consciousness then and was about to cover herself with her hands but he caught her wrists again and spread her arms wide.

"How beautiful you are," he said softly.

Her shyness fled. Beautiful? No one had ever called her that. No one had even thought it.

She reached for him but he shook his head, going down on his knees beside the sofa, running his hands softly down her body, from her shoulders over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to the flare of her waist. Christina gasped, arching upward.

"I have so wanted to see you like this." He repeated the caress and she writhed. "It was dark before," he said. "I need to see you in the light."

Christina made a little sound of desire and supplication and he smiled, kissing her collarbone, then taking one nipple in his mouth to suck and pull. She felt it clear through her body and it settled in a low, pulsing throb between her thighs. Each tug, each lick had her squirming until the sensations threatened to drive her beyond all thought. She had never known this, the slow, exquisite build of pa.s.sion, the tantalizing way she hung on the edge of bliss.

Lucas's fingers slid into her secret folds, found the entrance to her body and slipped inside. Her body twitched at the intrusion, welcoming it but wanting more. Then his thumb found her swollen nub and pressed down, sliding over her with wicked precision, and her body shattered as easily as that, spiraling into ecstasy so hard and fast that she cried out as a wave of blinding brilliance carried her away.

She was floating, the sound of the sea soft about her, the waves of pleasure still beating through her body. She half opened her eyes. Lucas was holding her, cradling her in his arms, his mouth pressed to her hair. She felt wonderfully cherished and almost satisfied. But she doubted that he was. Smiling a little, she slid a hand down his body and curled it around the long, hard length of him, hearing him suck in a breath.

"Please," she said.

Gently he rearranged her so that she was propped against the high back of the sofa, lying back against a pile of cus.h.i.+ons, her bottom on the edge of the seat. Her body was still thrumming with the lovely lambent afterglow, but she felt a new need now, more urgent, pulsating through her. Lucas pushed her thighs apart and knelt between them. She lay back, feeling exposed and suddenly nervous, aware of how she must look, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s flushed, her limbs tumbled. He spread her wider and she trembled.

With one plunge of his hips he buried himself inside her. She was tight from before, and the shock of it had her gasping with sheer need. Her body closed about him and she felt him surge into her, over and over, the powerful rhythm of it lifting her up, driving her hard back against the cus.h.i.+ons, her hands braced at her sides, her body arched as she took each thrust. He cupped her head and drew her forward for his kiss and it was as fierce and tender and demanding as the pulse of his body in hers. He held her by the waist so that he could caress her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with his lips and tongue, and she felt the pleasure start to expand again and light up and fill her. Heat and light and love and need and Lucas... Her body clenched hard, taking her by surprise, so much sharper this time, spasm upon spasm of bliss. She was conscious of Lucas pulling out of her, of his own shout of pleasure, and then he was wrapping her in his arms and she was sliding down into the darkness, held close against his heart.

When she woke, she was warm and sleepy and wrapped in blankets. She was also alone. For one terrible moment, she thought that Lucas had simply dressed and left, and her heart shriveled and cold struck through her body. Then she saw a glimmer of light in the open doorway of the Round House, a flare of orange against the darkening blue of the sky outside. Evidently Lucas had collected some driftwood and built a fire.

Christina wrapped the blanket around her and walked barefoot over the floor to the doorway. Lucas was sitting staring out across the sea. His expression was somber and her heart missed a beat.

He regrets what we have done.

She did not. It surprised her, but this time she had no regrets at all. She felt light and happy and satisfied, and for once her mind simply refused to grapple with the consequences or implications of her actions.

Lucas got to his feet when he saw her. He came across and took her hand.

"Are you all right?" he said. He drew her down to sit on the stone beside him and did not let go of her hand. The fire was warm; it held at bay the cool of the evening as night started to fall over the sea.

"Yes," Christina said. "Thank you," she added, and saw him smile. He pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand.

"You are so polite," he murmured. "So very well-bred."

"Not really," Christina said. "Not at all." She hesitated. Perhaps she was wrong to pursue this. Perhaps she should just let matters be, ask no questions. But she disliked pretense and she could see no way forward now if they were not honest with one another.

"I am not sure what to do now," she admitted with painful honesty.

Lucas smiled. His gaze had been on their entwined fingers. Now it came up to her face. "Neither am I," he said.

"You've never had an affair with your employer before?" Christina asked, and saw the black of his eyes turn as hard as obsidian.

"I don't have affairs." He sounded curt. He threw another branch on the fire, and it snapped and hissed as the flame caught it. "My parents' example taught me not to take such matters lightly."

"Of course," Christina said. The smile had died from Lucas's eyes and something dark and hard took its place. He got up and moved a little away from her. Nothing could have emphasized more his separation from her, his rejection of intimacy. She felt emptiness yawn inside her.

"I told you that my mother bore me out of wedlock," Lucas said. "I was aware from the youngest age that I was different, shameful in some way, an outsider. I hated my father for the way that he behaved. I still hate him, even though he is long dead."

Christina felt another pang of shock, and hard on its heels a swift rush of empathy. Perhaps his mother had been a servant girl seduced by her employer, or a woman betrayed by the man she loved. In the end it did not really matter; her shame, her unhappiness had evidently scarred Lucas deeply. Christina had no idea what it would be like to be born not having a place in the world, but she knew that people could be cruel. Lucas had survived the stigma of his illegitimacy, but it would not be something he would forget or treat lightly.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "It must have been wretched for you. I am so very sorry."

"It was more wretched for my mother," Lucas said. "I do not believe she ever recovered from his desertion." He looked up. In the firelight his face was illuminated in hard lines and dark shadows. "I don't want to make my father's mistakes," he said. "I don't want to be like him, weak and cowardly, siring a b.a.s.t.a.r.d out of marriage and abandoning its mother."

"I can't imagine you ever doing such a thing," Christina said. She could sense the anger in him but also the determination; he would never be a man to abandon the woman he loved. For a moment she felt a huge pang of loss to think of the woman who would win Lucas's love. That would be a love worth fighting for, full of tenderness and loyalty and respect. Except she wondered if Lucas was capable of such a love, if he would ever take that risk.

She wanted to reach out to him, but there was something about him that forbade it, something cold and self-reliant. She remembered the occasions on which she had tried to reach him, offering him her help, and he had rejected it. Experience had taught him to trust no one, to accept comfort from no one. Even so, she felt a little chilled by the distance between them. Not long ago they had been as close as it was possible to be. Now she could feel a chasm yawning.

"You should marry," she said impulsively. "You have cut yourself off from all human comfort. It cannot be good for you." And even as she said it she felt a jealousy and possessiveness that she knew she had no right to feel.

Lucas's smile was so tender that her heart turned over. "I do believe that once again you are trying to help me."

"I'm sorry," Christina said.

"Don't be," Lucas said. "It is one of the nicest things about you, Lady Christina. You are so generous."

It should have made her happy, but instead Christina felt a pang that was close to despair. She was angry with herself for thinking that it would be different this time. Nothing had changed in their situation since the night in the cottage. Lucas was still a servant; she was still behaving in a way that was reprehensible and wrong. Yet one thing had changed. She knew she loved him, and that made the situation all the more impossible.

This is not good enough, she thought suddenly. I want more than this. I do not want stolen meetings and to skulk around as though I am ashamed.

But there was no way in which she could have more. There was nothing for her here.

The firelight s.h.i.+mmered before her eyes. "I must go," she said. "I need to be back before dinner." She stood up.

"Wait," Lucas said, and despite herself, despite knowing that they were back on formal terms, employer to servant, Christina felt a jolt of antic.i.p.ation. She looked at him. There was a quizzical look in his eyes. Then he smiled at her, the sort of smile this time that sent quite a different reaction skittering down her spine.