Highland Obsession Read Online Free PDF Page B

staircase that led up to his bedchamber.
    Sorcha sucked in a breath, but then calmed herself as she released it. He wouldn’t hurt her. That rare balance in Cam—the edge between stark, unpolished strength and generous tenderness—was what had attracted her to him to begin with. Cam possessed an innate compassion and kindness he hid from the world but had revealed to her in their lovemaking. She had always felt safe with him, from their first touch. As mad as his actions had been tonight, she couldn’t believe Cam would use violence on her.
    She glanced at him over her shoulder and spoke softly. “I don’t fear you. You may think you have power over me, my lord. That might have once been true, but no longer.”
    His dark eyes hardened. “Go.”
    She turned back to the stairs and stared at them but didn’t move. “You dishonor me on my wedding night,” she said dully. He already had shamed her, and now he would make it worse by bedding her not two hours after she’d lain with her husband for the first time.
    “Honor has naught to do with this.”
    Oh, it had everything to do with this.
    “You intend to rape me in your bedchamber. You wish to make my husband a cuckold.” Even as she said it, she could not bring herself to truly fear him raping her. But she did fear his bedchamber, the memories it possessed, the power he had once held over her. He stood close enough that she could smell him, spicy sandalwood with a raw, masculine musk beneath. Lord help her, but as much as her heart rebelled against him, her body remembered his touch, even after his crazed behavior.
    Cam tightened his hands on her shoulders. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “It is me you want, Sorcha. I am the one you desire in your bed. Not Alan MacDonald, and not anyone else.”
    A tremble rippled down her spine. Yes, she’d wanted Cam, but that was in the past. Earlier tonight, she had wanted Alan. Wanted him badly.
    Even if her body still desired Cam, she’d vowed to stay true to Alan until death. She could not live with herself if she broke that promise.
    She spoke, forming her words carefully. “I gave Alan MacDonald my vow under God tonight. The instant I made that vow, everything else ceased to matter. I am his now. No one else’s.”
    “No.”
    “Yes. I belong to him and no other.”
    “It isn’t too late.”
    Sorcha laughed bitterly.
    He slid his hand down her back over the rough wool of the plaid and gave her a soft nudge at the base of her spine. “Go upstairs.”
    She stepped forward. One foot in front of the other until she stood at the bottom of the staircase. He remained still, watching her, but then closed in behind her as she began to walk up. He followed her to the landing at the top and they progressed down the long hall. Floor-boards creaked under their feet. When she reached the door to his bedchamber, she stopped and stared at it. Images of what had happened between them inside flashed through her mind. He had taken her on the green and black silk counterpane, on the hard planks of the floor, against a woolen wall hanging, on a bed of furs before the fire. In every position—her on top, on her knees, on her back, her legs wrapped around his waist . . .
    Very deliberately, he set his palms flat against the door, boxing her in with his arms. “Do you remember how we loved in there, Sorcha? The pleasure we shared?”
    Oh, she remembered, but she would not admit to it. She tilted her face at him with false bravado. “You are speaking of the fornication we indulged in? The sin?”
    “But it didn’t feel like sin to either of us, did it?”
    She looked back to the smooth, glossy planks of the door. “If I rot in hell for my sins, for certain it is God’s will.”
    Cam tensed. “I imagine God desires us to reconcile our feelings for each other before he sends you to a life of servitude to a man you don’t know.”
    “I have already reconciled my feelings. I thought you had too.”
    “You have entered into a