Chapter Twenty-nine

Hugh rode back to Ros Creag with Jane dozing in his arms. She'd fallen asleep tucked against his chest in front of the fire, with the girl still slumbering over her legs. Once Robert had scooped up Emily, Hugh had gently lifted Jane, then quietly refused offers to stay the night.

Now Hugh found himself almost grinning as he imagined the looks on his brothers' faces when he told them he'd endured an evening at the Weylands'. They'd never believe him.

Yet it hadn't been that bad. No, he admitted to himself, it was one of the most enjoyable times he'd had in years. And now he was holding Jane again, and the moon was out, and she was…nuzzling his chest? He drew back his head. "Jane, are you awake?"

"Only just," she murmured, sliding her hands up to clutch his shoulders.

He frowned down at her. "Then are you drunk, lass?"

"No, I feel very clear."

In a voice gone hoarse, he asked, "Why're you unbuttoning my shirt?" There was no way she could miss his instant reaction, seated as she was. Grabbing her upper arms, he shifted her until she wasn't directly on his stiffened shaft. "No, Jane, you ken we canna—" Sweet Christ, had she just touched her lips, her tongue, to his chest? He threw his head back and stared up at the moon. All of the vows he'd reiterated to himself today grew indistinct in his mind, and he shook his head hard. "You continue to treat this like it's a game."

She blinked open her eyes as if she'd just woken from a dream. "I don't treat it—"

"You knew better than to go anywhere without me."

"I had to talk to my cousins. I needed their advice. Badly," she said cryptically.

Though he knew she'd never answer, he asked, in a deadened tone, "About what?" Excellent. Yet another secret that would taunt him.

"About the fact that…"—she leaned up to press her lips tenderly to his—"I want you to make love to me."

He almost slid off the horse and took her with him.

Her light touches during the day had goaded him, stoking his need for her—which had only burgeoned after last night—to a fever pitch. And all day, he'd played the part of her husband. Despite himself, he'd begun to feel like one.

Tonight, he wanted to demand a husband's due.

"You want me tae take you?" His voice roughened at the thought.

When she nodded against his chest, he exhaled a breath he hadn't known he'd held. He found himself positioning her on his lap, turning her until she was astraddle him. Once her legs hung over his, he ruched up her skirt high in the front and back. As he kissed her neck, one of his hands clutched her nape, the other rubbing far down her back to dip inside her silk pantalettes.

Squeezing her bottom, he lifted her up against his erection, rocking her to it, making her whimper, and him curse in agony. When he set her back down, she sucked in a shocked breath, because he'd cupped her between her legs so her sex rested in his palm. Her flesh was warm and wet in his hold, and she moaned in delight at the contact. But her moan turned to an anguished cry when his finger eased inside her.

Her sheath was incredibly tight and gripped his finger hungrily, making his cock ache to replace it. "I will no' be able to stop myself," he grated. "It will no' be like last night."

His thumb and forefinger played, and her head lolled, but he retained his firm hold on the back of her neck to make her face him.

Eyes heavy-lidded, she nodded.

"Do you understand me?" He rubbed her sensuously, and she began to undulate against his fingers.

"Hugh, oh, God! Yes, I do."

As soon as she'd panted the words, realization hit him and his entire body stiffened. "I'm going tae be inside you tonight." After so long. "You want me tae be." Another thrust of his finger to punctuate his words.

"Oh, I do!" She was close. He could feel her body quivering, her thighs tightening and relaxing around his hips in seeking intervals until he thought he was going to explode.

Inevitable.He ached to possess her, and she wanted him to do the same. Why had he ever imagined that he could fight this? At her ear, he rasped, "Come for me first."

"Hugh, I will…" She kissed him fiercely when her orgasm began, giving a wild cry against his lips. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her wet little sheath clenched around his finger, again and again. His cock grew slick at the tip in anticipation of that tight heat.

When she sagged against his shoulder, he moved his hands from her sex to cupping her bottom. Once they'd reached Ros Creag, he kept her in the same position with her legs locked around his waist, even as he dismounted and tossed the reins in the vicinity of the tethering post.

By the time he'd bolted the front door behind them, she'd gone from resting her forehead on his shoulder to kissing him, clutching his arms, her hand colliding with his as they grasped each other.

Desperate to bury himself inside her, he hastened toward his bed, bounding up the stairs two at a time, breathing hard against her damp neck. Inside his room, he laid her back on the bed, then shrugged from his jacket and pistol holster, tossing them both aside. After he'd yanked his shirt over his head, she reached her arms up to him.

He had one knee in the mattress to go to her. After wanting her for so long—

Hugh froze.

Outside, the gate to the terrace creaked on its hinges.


Hugh's head whipped up, his dark eyes flickering over her face. He bolted to his pistol.

"Hugh? What's happening?" She felt so dazed from her recent pleasure that she could barely form words.

"Stay there," he snapped, striding to the windows, yanking the heavy curtains closed. "Doona move, especially not in front of the windows."

"I-is Grey out there?"

"It could be nothing." Hugh cautiously peered out one side of the drawn curtains.

"I thought he hadn't reached England yet."

"I doona want to take any chances."

She was startled by the idea of Grey being just outside, but she wasn't afraid. She was too reassured by Hugh's presence. "Should I have my bow?"

"No, lass, you doona need your bow."

"How long will you stay there?"

"Till dawn," he answered.

"What? Why don't you come to bed? You bolted the doors—he can't get in."

"If he's out there, I might catch sight of him."

She asked slowly, "And what would you do if you found him?"

His voice was quiet, cold. "Kill him."

"But he was your friend," Jane said. "I always believed we were more or less absconding, not, er…executing."

"He's killed before."

"No, you're not serious…." She trailed off when he caught her gaze, his eyes locked on hers.

"Men. And women."

"Why? What's made him do that?"

"I've told you, his mind is damaged. His affliction is worse than it's ever been."

Her eyes went wide. "Is he like Burke and Hare, or Springheeled Jack?" she asked in a breathless voice. "One of those compulsion killers that I've read about in theTimes ?"

"I'm sure he has much in common with them."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to frighten you needlessly," he said, then added in a distracted tone, "And I never thought he would even get close to us."

"If you knew he was such a horrible killer, why did you agree to this? You could be risking your life."

He said nothing.

"Hugh, you wouldn't, um, risk your life for mine?"

"What kind of question is that?"

She made a sound of frustration. "Oh, just answer me, won't you?"

His body seemed to tense, and after an obvious struggle, he gritted through his teeth, "Aye."

"T-truly?" Her voice went higher.

"Just try to get some sleep."

As if that was going to happen. After a few long moments, she asked, "How does he kill them?"

"With a blade."

The blood drained from her face, leaving it cool. "Grey…stabsthem? Even women? Would he do that tome ?"

Hugh hesitated. "I doona know that telling you—"

"I have to know, Hugh," she interrupted sharply. "I need to know what he plans."

Hugh's gaze flickered over her face. Finally he said, "He slits their throats—"

A violent pounding on the door boomed through the silent home.

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