The Rock Read online

  It took Elizabeth a moment to regain consciousness—or rather return to any semblance of her senses. The feelings, sensations, and emotions that had taken hold of her were so overpowering they did not give way easily—or quickly. Only when the last ebb of pleasure had slipped from her body did some level of awareness return.

  She felt so deliciously exhausted. Her body was warm and melty; she didn’t think she could move if she had to. But it was a different kind of exhaustion—a satisfied kind. A contented kind. Although contentment hardly captured the happiness that glowed inside her and seemed to fill her to bursting.

  But it wasn’t until Thommy rolled off her—taking his heat and solid weight with him—that her thoughts became cohesive enough to speak.

  “Thommy?”

  She heard the heavy fall of his breathing before he answered. “Aye, love.”

  He drew her against him and she snuggled into the warmth of his body as if she’d done so a hundred times. Propping her chin on his chest, she stared up at him. He was so unbelievably handsome sometimes it took her breath away. Like now.

  “You were right.”

  He seemed to be having difficulty regaining his senses as well, but he managed to cock a brow. “About what?”

  “It did work.”

  He gave a sharp laugh, and the smile that turned his mouth was so boyishly charming it wrapped around her heart and squeezed. “I think that’s an understatement, El.”

  Having no previous experience to rely upon, she was enormously pleased to hear it. “It is?”

  He tipped her chin to look into her eyes. “That was . . . I don’t even know how to describe it.”

  She grinned back at him. “It was pretty spectacular, wasn’t it?”

  “Very spectacular.”

  “Does that mean you want to do it again?”

  He groaned. “God, sweetheart, are you trying to kill me? I need a little time to recover. And so do you—you will be sore. I should have been . . . easier on you.”

  Was he blushing? She didn’t think she’d ever seen him blush before. It was adorable. If a man as physically imposing as him could be characterized as such. “Don’t say that—it was perfect.” And worth any soreness she might feel. She started drawing little circles on his chest and stomach, the muscles clenching into tight bands at her touch. “How much time?”

  He laughed gruffly. “More than five minutes.”

  But it turned out not much more. The second time he made love to her was slower and less frenzied, but every bit as powerful. Maybe even more so. There was no pain this time, and when he held her gaze as they broke apart, it made everything seem more significant—deeper somehow. The emotions, the sensations, the force of the spasms racking her body, the intensity of the love she felt for him, and the connection between them . . . everything was stronger.

  And so was her exhaustion. This time, she didn’t regain much of her consciousness at all before falling into a contented and sated—extremely sated—sleep.

  She was still smiling when Thom shook her awake. But the smile didn’t last long.

  He cursed, the word he used conveying the urgency before he spoke. “Hurry”—he jumped to his feet and tossed her her gown even as he began to put on his own clothes—“there’s someone at the door.”

  27

  NOT SOMEONE. THE voice that had awakened Thom and thrust him into a nightmare was far too familiar. He swore again, cursing himself for falling asleep even as he hastened to pull on his clothes.

  “Open the God damned door now, MacGowan, or I swear I’ll—”

  “Give me a minute,” Thom said, not needing to hear the details. His face was grim as he cast Elizabeth a worried glance.

  She paled while hastening to put on her gown. She’d obviously recognized the voice as well.

  This wasn’t good, damn it. Wasn’t good at all. Every foul curse word Thom could think of went through his head.

  There was only one way it might have been worse. If he hadn’t had the foresight to latch the door, they would have been naked and entwined in each other’s arms rather than half-clothed when James Douglas forced his way into the forge.

  Still, there was no hiding what they’d been doing. James took one look at them, realized what Thom had done, and gave him a look of such horror, betrayal, scathing condemnation, and hatred that Thom knew there was nothing he could say, no explanation that would right this wrong.

  It was at that moment, when Thom saw the scene through Jamie’s eyes—the crude forge, the cloaks spread out on the soot-stained stone floor, various pieces of clothing still strewn across the floor, Elizabeth half-dressed with the ties of her gown still loosed, her hair unbound and mussed, her lips swollen, the tender skin of her face and neck still pink from the scrape of his stubbled jaw—that the reality of what he’d done hit him, and he felt every bit as base and dishonorable as his old friend thought him.

  Guilt and shame twisted through his gut. He’d ravished her, damn it. Taken her innocence when it was not his right to do so—hell, it was a right that still probably belonged to someone else. The king’s nephew, as it happened.

  He cursed again.

  No matter how right it might have felt, it wasn’t. He’d known that, but he’d let himself forget.

  Thom steeled himself for what was to come but didn’t make any attempt to stop it. He’d been on the other side of one of James Douglas’s fists many times before, but still nothing could have prepared him for the force of the blow that landed on his jaw like a war hammer. His head snapped back with a burst of pain that made him see stars.

  Elizabeth screamed.

  Thom barely lifted his head before another blow followed, this one to the gut, causing him to groan and double over.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you!” Douglas jerked him up to hit him again. “She’s my sister. How could you . . .”

  Thom didn’t know what to say—what could he? Nor did he try to defend himself from the pummeling. Maybe part of him felt it was deserved.

  “Jamie, no! Stop, you’ll kill him.”

  “Good!”

  Elizabeth’s attempt to get in front of him roused Thom enough to block the next blow and try to keep her out of the way. “Stay out of this, Ella.”

  “No!” she shouted furiously, tears streaming down her face. “No!”

  She turned on her brother and screamed at him to stop. James was beyond hearing, however, and it wasn’t until she threw herself between the two men that Douglas swore and stopped swinging. “Get out of the way, Ella, this is between me and MacGowan.”

  “No, it’s not,” she bellowed back at him just as angrily. “This is what I wanted. I’m going to marry him.”

  “The hell you are,” Douglas said in a deadly voice that left no room for argument.

  To her credit, Elizabeth didn’t flinch before the man whose formidable “black” rage inspired epitaphs and nightmares on the other side of the border. “Once you calm down enough to listen to reason, you’ll realize that there is no other choice. It’s too late.”

  She didn’t need to explain what she meant by that. Douglas’s face turned so dark Thom thought he would strike him again and readied himself for the blow.

  Douglas’s entire body seemed to be shaking and he spoke in chillingly clear words to his sister. “If you think I’ll reward him for seducing and dishonoring you, you are out of your damned mind. I don’t care what happened here.”

  Her confidence faltered just a little. She paled slightly before lifting her stubbornly set chin a hair higher. “He didn’t seduce me; I seduced him!”

  Despite his fury, Douglas took one look at her and laughed. “Which only proves how innocent you are. MacGowan has been waiting for his chance to take advantage of you since you were sixteen. No matter what he let you think, this has always been his damned plan. He wants you and nothing will stop him. Not even his precious honor.”

  Thom could stand silent no longer. Douglas had a right to his anger, but Thom wasn’t