Page 24 of Duncan

Nicole wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but seeing the way his eyes darkened made her heartbeat quicken. Was he already imagining he’d become her lover, like the other MacMar men had with the ladies they’d rescued? Was he asking so he could offer to be her first? Where his wrist pressed against her arm she discovered his pulse throbbing as quickly as hers. If she didn’t watch herself and him, she wouldn’t be a maiden much longer.

“I’ve never been intimate with anyone.” Saying it that way was supposed to sound cold and indifferent, but her voice had gone husky. Being a virgin at twenty-four didn’t embarrass her, but admitting as much seemed like a passive-aggressive invitation. As crisply as she could, she said, “That isn’t a priority for me.”

“You hold yourself above such.” He stepped back, but kept his hands on her arms. “’Tis good that you do. Taking a lover shall only complicate matters.”

He approved of her abstaining. Nicole tried to smile, but she wasn’t relieved. Her right hand had knotted into a shaking fist at her side, and all she could think was how much she wanted to hit him. Or were those his emotions, and she’d just absorbed them from him?

Why would he want to hit me for admitting I don’t want him or any other man?

He seemed angry without giving a hint of it on his face. His grip on her arms tightened almost to the point of pain, and he held himself so stiffly he might have been a statue of himself. Was he holding her away so she wouldn’t fling herself at him? Could he read her that well? Did he know how furious she’d become? Had he assumed he could say whatever he liked to her?

Was he laughing at her?

The hair stood up on the back of her neck, exactly as it did the few times in the past when she had lost her temper. She relaxed her hand and placed it on the left side of his chest, fanning her fingers across the fabric of his tunic, testing the hardness of the muscles under it. It relieved some of her anger to touch him like this, as if she could play the same game of torment and rejection. He looked down at her hand, and then met her gaze. His heart thumped faster.

Just like mine.

“If you mean what you said, then you should take your hands off me,” Nicole said, smiling up at him. “I’ve made my view on taking a lover quite clear.”

He let go of her instantly.

“I’d never force my attentions on a lady.” He tucked in his chin to look at her hand. “Now you should offer me the same courtesy.”

“I will.” Nicole glided her hand from his chest to the back of his neck, and tugged down his head until they almost bumped noses. “I just want you to know that the act isn’t working.”

“Lass.” The word that came from his lips sounded strangled. “Dinnae tempt me.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night because I keep thinking about us, together, in my bed. You’ve got dark shadows under your eyes, so the same must be happening to you. If we keep ending up alone together with one of us half-naked, we might break all the promises we’ve made to ourselves. So, please stop pushing me.”

Nicole could see she’d made her point. Now she would let go of him, and leave. Right now. At once.

She didn’t get the chance to do either of those things. Duncan lifted her up off her feet and carried her over to the exam table, putting her down on the edge as he pushed her legs apart. He stepped in, the hard ridge of his erection pressing into her crotch. Only the wool of his trousers and the linen of her skirt separated their bodies, and through those flimsy layers the heat of him burned into her. He didn’t rub against her, but he didn’t have to. She was on the verge of climaxing. Was he?

This was the sexiest, most shocking thing a man had ever done to her, Nicole thought. That’s why she couldn’t tell him to back off. That’s why she’d slid her fingers down his chest to his waist. In another moment she’d have her hand inside his trousers. How would it be, to hold him while he was so stiff and hard? Would she squeeze him, or stroke him?

“Do you desire me ravish you?” Duncan muttered.

“I don’t know.” Her temper flared even higher. “I’ve never done this.”

“I smell your sweetness, my lass,” he murmured. “You’ve gone wet with your desire.”

“Yes, and you’re hard for me,” she countered. “Only I’m not having sex with you, Healer MacMar.”

“Nor I with you, Mistress Fairburn. If you cannae sleep, I shall give you the herbs you need for slumber.” His hands moved around to her back, and he splayed them over the makeshift lacing as he pressed her breasts against the vault of his chest. That made the gap between their mouths only an inch. “Only ken that I want naught more than come inside you now, and give you the pleasure you crave.”

His breath warmed her lips, and for a moment Nicole grew dizzy. This was what she’d always tried to avoid by not getting involved with any man; this wildness that he’d brought out of her. The desires seemed excruciating, as if she were being burned from the inside out. The impulse to fling aside all common sense and tell him to unlace her gown so he could see her breasts almost overtook her. She needed him to look at her, and touch her, and put his mouth on her. Only he could end this intolerable need.

How can I go on if he doesn’t?

A rattling sound behind her cleared some of the passionate haze from her brain, and seemed to do the same for Duncan, whose arms fell to his sides as he turned and strode over to the big black cabinet. Nicole stared after him for a long moment, her emotions snarling, and then without another word she quickly got off the table and fled the infirmary.

I cannot do this, she thought as she hurried down the passages. I have to go back to the twenty-first century and save Dad from Hudson. I don’t have time for an affair.

On her way to the guest room she imagined every guard was staring at her with knowing smiles, but they couldn’t have known what she had just done. Had almost just done. Had barely avoided doing. No, it was her imagination.

“Mistress Fairburn.” Nyall appeared out of nowhere and fell into step beside her. “My wife told me your true name, as well as how you healed that nag,” he said when she eyed him. “I’m glad you’ve recovered from that dreadful wound.”

“Are you?” Reaching the door to the guest room, she turned to face him. “I suspect no one else is. Your seneschal looks at me like I’m carrying bubonic plague, and your laird speaks to me as if I brought with me a secret army to siege your castle. Your healer…” She didn’t know enough hateful words to describe his behavior.