The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  “Tell me to leave, Jeannie.” The husky lilt of his voice wrapped around her in a dark sensual vise. She could hear the tightness underneath—the strain of a man held by a very taut string.

  He’d come to her like this before. All those years ago. But the danger that emanated from him now was not from anger and betrayal; it was fueled by desire.

  She shivered. Not from fear, but from anticipation. Her body flushed with awareness: her skin prickled, her nipples beaded, and the tiny little hairs on her arms stood on edge. But mostly, the soft juncture between her thighs quivered. The heavy warmth of desire spread through her body. It was a woman’s desire. Desire forged in the fires of heartbreak and disappointment and made stronger by experience.

  She could no more tell him to leave than she could deny her heart a beat. She’d wanted him from the first moment she’d ever seen him, and that wanting had never stopped but only grown more intense with the passing of years.

  This moment had been inevitable since the first moment he’d set foot on Scottish soil. And she no longer wanted to deny it.

  “Tell me,” he repeated, his voice angrier … tighter … harder.

  She shook her head, her heart beating wildly. “No. I don’t want you to leave.”

  He swore and crossed the distance between them in a few long strides. He stood at the edge of the bed and stared down at her. In the candlelight, she could see the fierceness of his need for her drawn harshly in the lines of his handsome face. A sharp feminine thrill shot through her. He was magnificent … and all hers.

  For a moment she thought he’d reach out, pluck her from the bed and ravish her senseless. She could tell he wanted to, but he held his arms tightly at his side, fists clenched, his control strained to the breaking point.

  Piercing blue eyes bored into her. “You know what you are saying, Jeannie?”

  She nodded, wide eyed. She did. It terrified her, but she knew exactly what she was doing. He trusted her, and she would have to try to do the same.

  The sheet had slipped to below her breasts. His gaze heated, lingering on her puckered nipples visible through the thin cotton of her sark. A hot flush spread across her skin as she recalled the feel of his mouth enveloping her, sucking her.

  “God knows I want your body, but it’s not enough. I need all of you. Can you give me your trust and forgive me for not giving you the same?” He paused, the stark pain of regret burning in his eyes. “God, Jeannie, can you ever forgive me for leaving you?”

  The thick emotion in his voice snapped the last thread of doubt—he cared, then and now. They’d both made mistakes and had paid for them in different ways. But what he was offering her was something she never thought they’d have: a chance to try again.

  She remembered the loneliness, emptiness, and anguish she’d felt when he’d left her all those years ago. He’d broken her heart and nearly destroyed her. The stakes had grown even higher now: his life … their son. But losing him again would be much worse.

  It had been so long since she’d taken a chance, since she’d listened to that little voice at the back of her head, but he was worth the risk. He always had been. For so long she’d thought of what had happened with Duncan as a mistake; it was a shock to realize she wouldn’t change it, not if it meant never having loved him.

  Heart pounding with the significance of what she was about to do, she slid her legs under her bottom, lifted up on her knees to face him, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He made a harsh sound at the contact—halfway between a groan of pain and one of pleasure. His body was as hard as granite, his muscles coiled under her fingertips like thick steel ropes. She pressed her body against his, savoring the strength and solidness of his broad chest. Their hearts drummed in unison. He was so warm, heat radiated through the fine linen of his shirt and plaid. She could smell the peat from the fires in the wool and the faint, intoxicating scent of whisky on his breath.

  She moved her mouth to his ear, inhaling the dark spicy scent. She wanted to devour every inch of him with her mouth and tongue. “Make me forget, Duncan,” she whispered.

  The primitive challenge of her words broke the last link in the steel chain of his control. With a fierce growl he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his in a deep, primal kiss. It was a kiss of possession. Of hunger. Of need.

  A kiss to make her forget.

  It was as if all the years had disappeared and once again everything was right. More than right … it was perfect. For when he was holding her like this, kissing her like this, the world disappeared and there was only them. Unburdened by duty and clan loyalties, by treason and by secrets.

  His mouth moved over hers—tasting, devouring. She felt the raw urgency as her own and returned it full force, melting against him and opening her mouth to his tongue.

  Youthful fumblings? It hadn’t been true then, and such a claim was laughable now. He knew exactly what to do to bring her pleasure. Every caress of his lips, every deft stroke of his tongue was calculated with deliberate precision to arouse.

  He cupped her bottom tight against him with one big hand as the other plunged through her hair to cradle the back of her head. She melted against him, drowning in heat and passion. She could feel the warm press of his fingers on her scalp, bringing her even closer. The rough stubble of his beard scratched the sensitive skin around her mouth, as he kissed her deeper and deeper, leaving no part of her unclaimed.

  Her body shuddered at every long, carnal thrust of his tongue, as he mimicked the rhythm of the pleasure he would give her. Molded against him, with only a few thin layers of clothing between them, she could feel the source of that pleasure hard against her stomach.

  It had been too long. Desire came over her in a big, crushing wave. The strength of it, the force of it, surprised her. That part of her life had been quiet for so long, she’d forgotten how it felt when desire—passion—took hold and swept away everything else in its path. But her body remembered the sensations. The rasp of his beard on her skin, the pressure of his hands on her breast, the heat of his mouth on her nipple, the dark, spicy taste of his kiss, the weight of his body on top of her. The fullness of him inside her.

  Her body flooded with those memories.

  She didn’t want to think, she only wanted to feel—him, inside her, filling her. Her hips circled against him, rubbing the thick column of his manhood. He felt so good. Too good. She couldn’t wait …

  He broke the kiss with a groan, his breath coming hard and fast; his eyes burning hot with desire. “Not so fast, my sweet. Not this time.”

  Jeannie wanted to cry out in protest, but she could see the resolve tight on his face and knew he would not be dissuaded.

  She knew what he was doing, forcing her to acknowledge what was between them every step of the way. No longer would she be able to hide behind blind passion. He wanted to strip her bare—not just her clothes, but her soul. The thought of what he could reveal terrified her, but she was beyond caution.

  Without another word, he started to remove his clothes, holding her gaze to his the entire time.

  Jeannie couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, utterly transfixed by the incredible man before her. He unfastened the thick leather belt at his waist and tossed it to the ground. The intricately wrapped plaid came next, the thick, heavy folds falling into a pool at his feet. He still wore his brogues and sat on the edge of the bed to remove the soft leather boots. He stood again to remove the linen shirt, but she stopped him.

  “No, let me,” she said, her voice husky.

  His eyes locked on hers. If he was surprised by her bold request, he did not show it. Instead his gaze seemed to burn even hotter.

  She was not an innocent girl any longer, but a woman who knew what she wanted. And right now she wanted to touch him more than anything in the world. To spread her hands across the wide spans of muscled chest and feel his heat, feel the raw energy pulsing from him.

  To know that this was real and not a dream.