She was just as hungry for him; it was a mad moment, one without conscious thought or breath. Mared ran her hands up his chest and arms, recalling every living inch of him, the feel of his body on her and in her, the strength of his passion as he drove into her.
Payton seemed to recall it, too, for he suddenly picked her up and carried her to a small settee. He came over her, his mouth on her neck, her bosom, his hand somehow beneath her skirts, caressing her leg, rising higher. In the amber light, Mared could see the longing in his eyes. Her hands swept inside his coat, feeling the hardened wall of his chest, then sliding down, to his waist, and then the evidence of his hard desire. She pushed seductively against it as desire pooled between her legs. She ached to be with him, ached to feel him inside her.
Payton groaned and kissed her deeper and madly, his lips full of mutual longing and anticipation. His hands swept every inch of her, his mouth sought every bit of bare skin. “Diah, how I’ve missed ye. How I’ve wanted ye, to be inside ye, to put my mouth to yer skin,” he breathed.
“Oh, Payton,” she whispered, arching up and pressing her bosom against his mouth.
“Say ye want me, Mared. Say ye want me to love ye—”
“Aye, I want ye, Payton,” she whispered against the top of his head.
He suddenly pulled away from her, his breathing ragged, and caught her face between his hands, gazing at her. He kissed her once more, then dropped his hands and stood up. His neckcloth was askew, his hair mussed, but he seemed not to notice, just kept gazing at her.
Mared pushed herself up to a sitting position, curious. Payton reached into his coat pocket, and went down on his knee before her.
Mared suddenly panicked. “Payton!” she cried, scrambling to her feet, grabbing his arm, trying to make him stand. “What are ye about? Stand, then!”
“It occurred to me that our betrothal had been arranged under less than romantic circumstances. I never asked for yer hand properly, lass—I should have thought to do so long ago,” he said and withdrew a ring.
“No!” Mared cried out, and panicking, she fell to her knees before him. “No, no,” she said, grabbing his hands in hers and closing his fingers over the ring, squeezing them tightly. “Donna do this, Payton, I beg of ye!” she cried and pressed her forehead to the knuckles of his hands which she was holding.
“What…” He did not finish his question.
Mared looked up—his mouth gaped open and raw emotion shone in his eyes. Tears welled in her eyes as he glanced down at their hands, as if he did not know whose hands they were.
But his humiliation swiftly turned to anger, and the emotion in his eyes turned to steel. He jerked his hands away from hers and quickly gained his feet, then reached down and grabbed Mared by the arm, bringing her roughly to her feet.
“Mared,” he said, obviously working to keep his emotions in check, “I am asking ye to come home with me. I’ve missed ye, and I…” He paused to groan with frustration. “Bloody hell, I love ye, Mared! I still love ye! Come home with me, aye? Ye donna belong in Edinburra. Ye are a Highlander, and ye belong in the Highlands—no’ among snakes and wolves as ye are now.”
“Oh, Payton,” she said, and reached for his face, but he shoved her hand away.
“I donna want yer bloody pity!” he spat acidly. “I want ye to be the woman I made love to, the woman who loved me back with such great passion!”
Mared swiped unsteadily at the tears on her face. “I do love ye, Payton. More than ye know.” It was true—she did love him. But she loved her freedom, too, and she was only now discovering who she was without the curse. Her distress and confusion came out in a groan. “But I canna come with ye.”
Payton’s hands fisted at his sides. He abruptly whirled around and struck out at an unlit lamp, toppling it over, unmindful of Mared’s cry of alarm. “Is it so bloody wonderful here, then?” he demanded angrily. “Ye find this a bonnier place than the Highlands ye love?”
“I am finally living!” she insisted. “Can ye no’ understand? I’ve no’ had a life ’til now!”
“That is where ye are wrong,” he said, and suddenly whirled around, catching her face between his big hands. “If it is life that ye want, I’ll give it to ye, Mared,” he argued heatedly. “I’ll give ye whatever yer heart desires. Do ye want to see the world? We’ll see it all. Do ye want gowns and jewels and fancy trappings? I’ll give ye whatever ye might imagine. Just…just be with me.”
His plea was heartfelt. She knew, because her heart had tilted dangerously toward him again, even deeper this time, and it pained her to say no. She did love this man, with all her heart, she did love him. But she was afraid of going back, of being what she’d been before. “Will ye no’ come to Edinburra, then?” she asked weakly.
He groaned painfully, pressed his forehead to hers. “I canna leave Eilean Ros.”