Slamming the door to her own bedchamber, Blaire sank onto the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the wall until her breathing returned to normal. Reaching up to brush her fingers over her lips, the rush of emotions she’d felt only seconds ago came back to her.
Blaire had always prided herself on not being driven by the mindless need for men like most women seemed to be, but perhaps she’d just been kissing the wrong men.
Before Blaire’s engagement to Eoin had been announced, Blaire had her fair share of suitors at her father’s home. Many of them even kissed her, but she had always found the kisses to be only tolerable, if not mildly pleasant. Arran’s kiss was far more than tolerable, and it ignited the first glimmer of hope she’d had since arriving at the castle.
*
Arran couldn’t begin to imagine how he could have been so daft. She was engaged to his brother. She was the one person forbidden to him, and he had pinned her against the wall and kissed her with such passion he still couldn’t catch his breath.
If it hadn’t been for her kneeing him in his groin, he knew he would have taken her to his bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so much. He could blame it on the ale, but he knew that was not what had made him kiss her.
He had been captivated the moment he saw her in the entranceway with his brother and had suggested they leave town as much for his own benefit as for Eoin’s.
The heat between them had been indisputable. The moment their lips touched, she melted into him. He briefly allowed himself to imagine where that kiss was leading before shaking himself out of it. She was Eoin’s. He would never tell his brother what had occurred between them, and he would make damned sure Blaire wouldn’t either.
He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting his brother, and although he found it hard to believe he would be able to resist her, he swore to himself he would do his utmost to avoid Blaire MacChristy altogether.
Chapter 7
Just one more drink and he’d be brave enough to have the conversation he’d been putting off for three days. He couldn’t figure out what it was about this lass, but his whiskey consumption was leaning on the side of excess ever since her reentry into his life. Arran’s plans to avoid Blaire had gone about as well as his plan to take Eoin away until the wedding.
It didn’t matter how many excuses he made to avoid the main building, he ended up with Blaire wrapped up in his arms. Whether he was working with Kip in the stables, shooting arrows in the field, or even helping Mary in the kitchen, they seemed to run into each other. And without fail, moments later he’d have her up against a wall or in a closet, trying to show her with his kiss just how much his body wanted her in his bed.
And each time, she returned his passion with full force, begging him to marry her instead of Eoin. He couldn’t believe how much he wished he could do just that. Marry her and have children with her, and wake with her beside him every day. He loved her fiery spirit, the way she said what she thought without hesitation; he’d never met a lass who was so forceful with her words.
Her beauty was another matter entirely. She made his heart race so fast that he could hardly breathe, but it was her wild spirit that he knew could tame his own wandering ways. She fit perfectly in his arms, in his heart. And the knowledge that he had to deny her for the sake of his brother caused him to reach for yet another glass, downing it quickly and standing to make his way to Blaire’s room, just down the hall.
*
He was surprised at how quickly she answered the door, or perhaps it just seemed as such with the way his head was swimming. His lips were warmed by the touch of Blaire’s lips. As she pressed herself up against him, he had to force himself to push her away, holding her arms tightly so that she couldn’t come closer to him. Cruelty was the only way she would accept his rejection and willingly marry his brother.
“Blaire, ye know we canna do this, lass. Ye’re marrying Eoin tonight. I canna be the one to marry ye. The contract was drawn between my father and yer own. It isn’t for us to be changing it, lass, as much as ye’d like me to.” He released his grip on her arms as she ceased trying to move closer. He stepped away as he watched her slowly turn her face so that it showed no emotion. He’d expected no less from the fiery, wild lass. He knew she’d rather die than show him a weakness.
“But ye canna tell me ye wouldna like to. Perhaps, the knowledge of that will be enough to keep me content in between our days together.”