"Really? How odd." She was glad to see the carriage rumbling up.

Jack didn't look convinced, but soon they were on their way home, rain beginning to spatter before they reached the end of the street.

Jack looked up at the carriage roof. "Are you certain everything is well?"

"Positive. I've never felt more invigorated in all my life."

He frowned. "Invigorated? That's an odd choice of words."

She smiled. "I am glad we're going home." She slid across the seat until her thigh pressed against his.

Though his expression was difficult to see in the flickering light, Fiona could feel the change in the air.

Emboldened, she placed her hand on his knee, trailing her fingers up his thigh, then down.

Jack's hand abruptly caught hers, and he pulled it toward him, pressing it between his legs. Her eyes widened at the bulge beneath her fingers. "Oh, my! I can see you're glad we're going home, too."

Jack's eyes darkened, and he swept her into a pa.s.sionate embrace that lasted until the coach reached Kincaid House. Fiona was hard-pressed to get her gown set to rights before the footman opened the door.

Once they alighted, Jack hurried her inside and up the stairs, his hands moving over her beneath the cover of her cloak in a way that left her breathless and panting.

Hours later, Fiona was snuggled against him as he slept, his broad chest rising and falling, his skin still warm from their exertions.

She sighed contentedly. Let Lucinda Featherington smirk. Let Alan Campbell insinuate all he wished. She would not allow anyone to come between her and Jack. They might not have love, but they had trust and an undeniable pa.s.sion that made their lovemaking astonishing and memorable.

Fiona closed her eyes, Jack's warmth and closeness lulling her to sleep. For now, that had to be enough.

Chapter Fourteen.

The White Witch thought to tame the arrogant MacLeans with her curse, and at first she was right. They nearly destroyed themselves. But she did not count on the MacLean gift fer stubbornness. They never quit, do the MacLeans. Not in love, and never in war.

OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT.

Late the next morning, Fiona carried her sewing basket into the sitting room. After a leisurely breakfast, Jack had announced that he was going out, and she'd felt some trepidation. She had no doubt that her confrontation with Lucinda Featherington would be on everyone's lips that day.

She moved a chair near the window to take advantage of the light, then pulled out a small piece of lace and began to work.

Time pa.s.sed, and when she looked up, the sun was high overhead. Fiona glanced at the clock over the mantel. Heavens, it was growing late. Gregor and Dougal had sent word that they'd like to ride in the park with her, and it would be nice to spend some time with her brothers. Now that Callum was gone, she wished she'd spent more time with him.

At the thought of Callum, she smiled wistfully. He would have loved London. He'd always wanted to visit.

A wave of sadness washed over her, but she resolutely focused on the little muslin and lace bonnet she was working on, regarding it with a critical eye.

"It's beautiful."

She started, turning to find Jack leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in riding clothes, his coat smooth over his broad shoulders, his buff breeches tucked into Hessians that had been polished until they gleamed.

Fiona searched his expression to see if he had heard about her run-in with Lucinda, but his face revealed nothing. "I didn't hear the front door," she said.

He pushed himself from the doorframe and walked into the room. "That's because I came in through the back, from the stables."

"Ah." She put the bonnet back into her sewing basket, feeling a little self-conscious.

He pulled a chair up across from hers, then sat, one leg over the chair arm. "Fiona, I must ask you a question." She became very busy untangling a knot of thread she found in her basket. "Oh?" "Yes. I heard a most interesting bit of gossip." Blast it.She kept her head over the tangled threads. "Fiona, did you forget to tell me something last night?" "Forget? No, I don't think so." She dipped her head and began digging through her sewing basket. She needed...blue. Yes, blue thread.Now. "Oh, dear! I have completely run out of blue thread." She jumped to her feet. "I shall send the maid to the market to fetch some."

"Fiona."

She caught Jack's firm gaze, sighed, and sat down again. "I suppose I shall just work on the initials on

the hem. I have a good bit of yellow thread-" "Fiona," Jack said more firmly, "put down that blasted sewing basket." She sighed, folded her embroidery, and placed it in the basket, then clasped her hands in her lap. "It was a bit disconcerting to discover your name on everyone's lips, Fiona." She bit her lip. "I suppose I should have told you." "Good G.o.d, what were you thinking?" "I wasn't. At least, not then." "And you couldn't just walk away?" Fiona stiffened. "I did not plan on making a scene, but she was determined to talk to me." "So? She can have nothing to say that would interest either of us." "She had quite a lot to say. She told me about...the two of you. She also knew I'd abducted you and forced you to marry me." Fiona sent him a reproachful look. "It was painful to learn that you'd shared that information withher. " "I have never told anyone how we came to be married. I don't know how Lucinda came by that information."

"Well, she knew of it. She was very ugly to me, and I am not in the least sorry I threw water on her. If she'd been outside," Fiona added darkly, "she would have been much wetter."

Jack shook his head. "I thought something had happened. The scent of lilacs was too strong."

Her cheeks heated. "Iam sorry for causing a scene last night." She hesitated. "Jack, when did you stop seeing her?"

"The same night you and I returned to town."

That was not what Campbell had said. Actually, he hadn't said anything so much as implied that there was more. Much more. "Did you love her?" "G.o.d, no!" Jack frowned. "She said you and she planned on getting married." "With Lord Featherington presiding over the nuptials?" Jack asked sarcastically. "Please." Thank goodness! "I suppose people are talking about me." He laughed shortly. "Yes, though not in the way you might think. I received no fewer than eight invitations today, three of them from society's highest sticklers. You appear to have climbed a few notches in the estimation of the ton."

"With the women, I am certain I have. I believe Lucinda is not much liked by them."

Jack chuckled. "You might be interested to know that it has rained nonstop at Lucinda's house since last night. I heard her roof has sprung a leak and her wine cellar flooded."

Fiona unsuccessfully fought a smile. "Oh Jack, don't tell me that! I feel bad enough that I emptied an entire vse of water over her head!" "She didn't melt, did she?" "No, Jack, but I didn't mean to drag your name into this." "Sweetheart, we are married. Whither thou goest and all that." Their gazes met. Fiona could not breathe; the words were so rich with meaning, hinting at a future they both knew was not theirs. He frowned and stood quickly, as if to get away from both his words and her. "Fiona, I didn't mean-" "I know." She gave him a tight smile. "It's just an expression." At least, that's all it was for them. The clock chimed the hour, and she stood and gathered her basket. "I must go. I promised my brothers I would meet them for a ride in the park, and I haven't yet dressed."

"Wait." Jack crossed to her, captured her hand, and lifted it to his lips. "It's a pity you are in a hurry."

"Why?"

He bent his head and whispered against her ear, "We could leave your brothers cooling their heels for a few minutes, couldn't we? Just long enough to..."

Fiona closed her eyes, her knees weakening, and leaned against him for support.

He removed the basket from her grasp and placed it on the table beside them, then pulled her toward him, sinking into a large chair with her on his lap.

Fiona slipped an arm around his neck and pressed a pa.s.sionate kiss to his lips as he loosened his breeches. With a quick tug, his manhood was revealed, and Fiona's breath caught in her throat. When she curled her fingers over the thick shaft and squeezed gently, his head fell against the back of the chair as he moaned.

Encouraged, she ran her hand up. With the end of her thumb, she circled the engorged head. A bead of wetness clung to the tip.

"Fiona." Jack gasped, his hands tightening around her."Please."

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath was short, and her whole body quivered. As desperate as he sounded, she was more so. Every sinew yearned for him.

Jack slipped a hand behind her head and pulled her mouth to his for a consuming kiss that burned through her.

G.o.d, how she wanted him.Now. She shifted, turning toward him, the chair creaking with their combined weight. His hands urged her on, and soon she was facing him, her skirts ruched up, with her stockinged legs straddling his powerful thighs.

There was something wanton about being on top, something powerful.

Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s tightened, and her body tingled in antic.i.p.ation as his erection pressed against her intimately, her chemise all that separated them from each other. She pressed down and rubbed against him, sliding back and forth.

Jack's breathing grew more ragged, his gaze locked on her as if she were the only woman in existence.

Still moving against him, Fiona unpinned her hair, the thick tresses falling down about her.

Jack's hands tightened on her hips, and suddenly, she wanted more. She needed his lips and hands on her bare skin.

She untied her gown and pushed it down to her waist. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, covered only by the thin chemise, were level with Jack's mouth. He immediately pulled her forward, his mouth hot upon them, his tongue laving her nipples to hardness, leaving the material wet and clinging. Fiona gasped, her head tossing back as he made her writhe with delight and need.

His hips moved restlessly against her, straining upward, then his hands reached under her skirt. He pushed aside her chemise, his fingers sliding across her wetness, tantalizing and teasing. Fiona clutched his shirt with both hands and gasped. His fingers slid over her harder, then into her.

Each stroke lifted her higher, closer to delicious madness. She rocked her hips against his fingers, until sudden waves of pure pleasure flooded through her, leaving her weak and leaning against his neck, gasping his name.

She felt the insistent press of his turgid manhood, and though still throbbing from her release, she yearned to feel him inside. She rocked back, placed her hands on his shoulders, and pressed down. Jack gasped as she slid over him, engulfing him in a tight wetness that sent his pulse reeling. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight than the intense pleasure on her face, and he fought for control.

She was so tight, so hot, sohis . He pressed his mouth to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his breathing ragged and loud. Slowly, Fiona shifted forward, then back, rocking against him. Jack was held in place by the exquisite torture. His entire body was focused on that one point where they were joined, on the feel of her tightening over him, of the sensual abrasion of her booted feet along his thigh.

G.o.d, he loved her half boots-though not as much as he loved the feel of her, wet and writhing over him. Jack moaned as he watched her ride him, unable to catch his breath. Never had he seen a more arousing sight than when she threw back her head and called out his name, her body quivering as she came.

Her pleasure ignited his own. He exploded into her, his gasps matching hers as wave after wave of pleasure flooded them both. With a final shudder, she collapsed against him. His heart pounded in his ears as he held her close. Never had he been with a more erotic, more sensual woman.

Fiona buried her face in Jack's neck. What mind-blinding, knee-shaking, thigh-quivering lovemaking! Her body still shook with the aftershocks of desire. She drew in a shuddering breath and pushed herself upright. He leaned back against the chair, a deeply satisfied smile on his face. "I am spent."

"So am I."

She suddenly realized that the episode with Lucinda had proven one thing: if she didn't take care, her emotions could grow until they were as out of control as the storms that attended her. With this man, there was no calling back the thunder. It rolled over her every time he so much as looked at her.

And once she had a child, Jack would be gone.

She pushed herself from his lap.

He tried to hold her in place. "Not yet."

"I would stay if I could, but I must wash and change into my riding habit. And you know my brothers will not wait patiently. If I do not meet them soon, they will come for me. I didn't think you'd want them here."

"No, Hamish is enough angry Scotsman for me."

Fiona smiled. "After I ride with my brothers, I thought I'd visit Bond Street and look for some ribbon for

the bonnet I'm making."

He spread his arms wide. "You are as free as a bird, love."

She was. Nothing bound them together. Some devil made her say breezily, "Free indeed. I've not even

decided which amus.e.m.e.nt I shall attend tonight-perhaps a gaming h.e.l.l. So don't wait up for me."

Jack shot to his feet.

"You willnot go to a gaming h.e.l.l."

She merely raised her brows.

"You don't understand how dangerous they can be. They are filled with scoundrels and thieves and-"

"Men like you. If it's good enough for you, then it will be good enough for me. Jack, I know you value