The Devil's Heart The Chattan Curse

Chapter Fifteen


Heath had been run to ground.

And he knew it.

He wasn’t a man who liked being beholden to anyone. He’d hated Campbell for forcing him to be bankrupt . . . and he’d not been happy when Margaret had jumped into the fray and saved the day. Her solution had not been right in his mind. It had tweaked his pride. They would say the only way he kept Marybone was by marrying a wealthy woman.

Marriage. He’d never thought of marrying anyone before. In the navy he’d been too footloose to want to settle in one place. But now there was only Marybone.

And there was only one woman of the many he’d been with for whom he’d sacrifice all—and that was Margaret.

Headstrong, impossible to tame, infuriatingly beautiful Margaret.

After he’d left the house, he’d ridden Admiral like a madman for a good ten miles. Then he’d gone to the Goldeneye. Augie Campbell had been there and anxious for a second go but Heath wasn’t in the mood. His temper was waning and in its place was a rare moment of self-knowledge.

Yes, he hated that he couldn’t pay his own bills, even though he had done nothing to create the debt. But he’d be a fool to refuse Margaret’s generous offer. Furthermore, even if she hadn’t had money, he wanted her. He liked having her at his side. And he’d meant what he’d said when he told her he admired her. In fact, that was an understatement: He loved her.

The truth of that feeling went all the way to his soul.

But could she love him? Could she ever respect a man who needed her money? He didn’t know, but he understood that he didn’t want to lose the bond that the night before had created between them.

And now she was kissing him. Welcoming him with a willingness that made him hope that she saw him as a man. A man who was an imperfect creature but who wanted to offer to her his best. A man who would do anything to keep her safe.

He backed her into the room and pushed the door silently shut with his shoulder. He tasted salt in her tears. “What is this?” he said, breaking the kiss, his arms still around her. “What are you crying for, lass?”

“I never cry,” she told him, almost angrily.

“My brave Maggie. Tears have nothing to do with being strong.”

She leaned her head against his chest, her arms tightening their hold around him. “I’m so glad you returned. So very glad.”

“As am I,” he said, and he kissed her again.

Their kiss grew more heated. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, their lips not leaving each other. He laid her on the bed, practically falling on top of her, and they both laughed, their voices low and meant only for each other.

Margaret turned on her side toward him. He would never tire of looking at her, especially when she smiled. He liked the way her eyes took on a light of their own when she was happy. With him, she seemed younger, freer, and that pleased him.

He brushed her hair back with his hand. “I’m such an ugly mutton-headed man, all rough and callused. I shouldn’t even touch you.”

She placed her hand on his chest. “I like your strength and your courage. I like that you aren’t afraid to take hold of your life and live it on your terms. I’ve learned much from you, Heath Macnachtan. In some ways, I feel as if I only started living once I met you.”

“After you tried to put a bullet in me,” he corrected, and she laughed.

Dear God, he loved her laughter. He loved all of her, even the stubborn bits of her.

Margaret leaned over and kissed his neck, burrowing her nose against his skin. He adored her. Worshipped her. Began undressing her.

“I know what you want,” he told her. “And you are going to receive it.”

Her response was to pull him closer and begin unbuttoning his breeches.

He liked this part of her best. His Maggie wasn’t some retiring wallflower. She knew what she wanted, and she had chosen him. He was both proud and humbled by her choice, because he wanted her . . . in a way he’d never experienced with a woman before.

They grew serious about their work. There was no fear of the supernatural here other than the magic they were creating. They were a man and a woman who had just discovered what they meant to each other.

And when they were both gloriously naked, Heath rested his weight upon her. She was soft where he was hard, and completely willing.

He raised his body above hers. The words “I love you” hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he could not speak them. He was not worthy of her. She belonged to a different world, but for right now she was his.

His, he repeated in his mind as he slowly slid into her.

She gasped her pleasure as her body stretched and accommodated him. Her eyes closed, her lashes dark against her cheeks. He liked this moment best. Feeling her, knowing he pleased her.

And then he began moving and all conscious thought left his mind.

They moved together, meeting each other halfway, satisfying each other as only two people who care deeply for each other could. Heath let his body say what his pride would not allow him to speak. She was his. No matter what happened beyond this night, she was his.

Maggie was a quick learner. Had she been possessed the night before? He couldn’t tell. She knew where to kiss him, what to whisper, how to encourage him.

There was no other woman like her and there never would be. That was what he’d discovered in the hours of running from himself.

He was no fool. He knew how complicated matters could be between a man and a woman. He had no expectations from her. He lived completely in this moment, their bodies bathed gold in the firelight as they strove together toward that moment of completion, of perfection.

She whispered his name. He answered her with his lips. He tasted her, desired her, enjoyed her—

Her legs grasped his hips. He pushed deeper, relishing the tightness of her, the quickening. Her arms embraced him as if he were a lifeline.

And then he was lost.

Margaret overtook him with her passion. She was clinging to him, the strength of her release radiating from her until he could contain himself no more.

Heath lifted himself above her, the better to thrust, once, twice, dear God, she was a marvel, a third time, and he was lost again.

For a long moment, joined at the hips, they held each other, truly becoming one.

And then slowly, he collapsed upon her. They were both breathing heavily. He felt himself leave her and he immediately gathered her close.

“I will not let you go,” he said. “I will not.”

She snuggled into his arms, without answering, her body as languorous as a cat’s.

He murmured, “And I prefer making love to you on a bed than on hard Scottish soil.”

“It was far more comfortable,” she agreed.

Heath kissed her forehead, her hair, her eyes, her nose. In this moment, there was nothing he couldn’t do. Not with his woman by his side.

Maggie smiled her pleasure.

Cool air skimmed his skin. He reached for the coverlet to throw over their nakedness.

“You are no longer angry with me?” she asked.

Under the covers, Heath ran his hand over the curve of her hip. Her breasts were against his chest. “It is hard for me to even think when I have you in my arms like this.”

“Then what happened last night was not . . .” She paused as if searching for a word.

“Lust?” he suggested. “A spell or a piece of pagan magic?” He kissed her. Here was his chance to declare himself. He could tell her that his feelings were stronger than mere need.

But what would she think?

How could he even trust the strength of his own feelings? They had not known each other a week.

And yet, he trusted his heart.

What he didn’t know and couldn’t know was what was in hers.

Here was a woman who had been pursued by men with more power and infinitely more fortune than he. Men who were handsomer and offered opportunities he could only dream of. He couldn’t expect her to settle on him.

She touched the bandage on his arm. “Does this still hurt?”

He shook his head. When she looked with such empathy, he could almost believe she cared for him as deeply as he did for her.

Then again, no one had ever claimed that he could not be a fool. Just because he had tumbled head over heels in love did not mean she had.

And he’d best remember that. Or his eagerness would chase her off.

He sat up. She made a sound of disappointment. Her nipples, those delightful bits of femininity that could make a man crazy with desire, tightened with the cool air on her skin.

Heath resisted warming them with his mouth. He pulled the covers over her. “I must let you sleep,” he said.

“I’m not ready for you to leave. Heath, we have so much to discuss.”

He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. If he stayed here, he’d make love to her again, and again.

“Tomorrow,” he promised. Tomorrow when they could both think clearly and be in control of themselves. “Here, let me close the curtains to warm the room. I’m surprised you left them open.”

“I was watching for you,” she said. She pulled the covers up over those luscious breasts and he almost whimpered. He pushed aside the implications of what it could mean that she’d watched for him. He didn’t want to hope. He began closing the drape, when a flash of light by the stables caught his eye.

“Why can’t we talk now—?” she started but he held up a hand, warning her to silence.

The light was out of place. The stable lads were all abed—unless something was amiss. With one hand on the drape, he waited. “Someone is at the stables.”

Ever quick thinking, Margaret blew out the candle. “Would someone be down there if an animal was ill?”

“Then the person would hang the lamp on a peg the better to work. But this light moved as if a signal—”

A door opened out in the hall.

Margaret had heard it as well. They both listened as almost silent footsteps moved toward the stairs.

Heath waited, and then crossed to the door, cracking it open slightly. He caught a hint of movement. A woman’s skirt . . . naturally. The only people on this floor were he, his sisters, Dara and Maggie.

He closed the door and reached for his breeches. He began dressing.

“Couldn’t it be one of the stable lads?” she whispered, pushing the heavy weight of her hair back from her face.

“Possibly, but why would someone here leave her bedroom because of it?”

“It could be coincidence.”

“It could,” he agreed, buttoning his breeches. “I’ll find out one way or the other. But it doesn’t make sense that someone from the house would be leaving at this hour of the night.”

“Perhaps whoever it is wishes to go downstairs? Perhaps to the kitchen? Perhaps she can’t sleep?”

“All possibilities.” He sat on the edge of the bed and began pulling on his boots. He noticed that Margaret had started dressing. “You will stay here,” he said.

“You might need me,” she answered, ignoring him and pulling her dress over her head.

“I need you here,” he reiterated. “Where I know you will be safe.”

“I like to be prepared for anything,” she replied, pulling the lacings of her dress. “If the person is from the house, who do you believe is out there?”

“I don’t know.” He reached for his shirt, jacket and coat. “But you will stay here,” he ordered, rising from the bed. Before she could protest again, he opened her bedroom door and slid out into the hall.

All was silent downstairs, but there was a bit of fresh air as if someone had gone outside. Heath walked down the hall and opened the back door. He peered into the moonlit night. The shadows of the trees hid anyone making her way from the house to the stables. He started to go out the door, when he felt a presence behind him.

“Yes, I am here,” Margaret whispered.

He turned, blocking her way out the door. “Go back.”

It was too dark to see her face but he knew she scowled at that order. “I shall not. You might need me.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maggie, I need to know you are safe.”

“And I need,” she said, “to be wherever you are in case you need help.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

“Yes, and I shot you.”

He made an impatient sound and was ready to argue, but she ducked under his arm and escaped out the door before he could catch her. She wore her red cloak. It was black in the moonlight.

“Come along,” she whispered. “I have my brother’s gun.”

“Not that again,” he muttered, but she had already disappeared into the shadows.

“Come,” she said in a hushed tone. “Don’t lollygag.”

Swearing under his breath, Heath went after her. The light in the barn could be nothing suspicious, but his every sense warned him there was something afoot, and Maggie was running right toward it.