his face more composed. "I thought we agreed you'd wait my return at the keep."
She took in the tall, muscular man. His chiseled face, darkened with a shading of beard at his jaw. A lock of chestnut-brown hair fell over his brow, which he raked back with stiff fingers. Irritation pulsed from him.
Although she'd not expected open arms, the hostility he displayed made her wonder if she'd erred in coming. "I am my own person, and not one to sit around and darn socks while you play at your war games. I gave you my word to wait, but I've decided to return to England. I must, for my brother has arrived. His ships are docked offshore, but a short day's ride from the keep."
"You are deft at escaping; why didn't you just go to him?" Conor asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Why come here? To me?"
She bit back a curse and jumped to her feet. "Because I cannot go alone to my brother, I am intelligent enough to know the McDougalls would catch up to me with haste."
"And your brother is also smart enough to know that it would be suicide to attempt a rescue through McDougall lands. He's survived the war by avoiding direct involvement, I'm sure the pirate won't dare come here."
"Ugh," Victoria held back the urge to scream. "My brother is a privateer, not a pirate."
The cocked eyebrow made her look away to avoid swearing at him. "Your brother is well-known. He is called The Red Pirate, correct?"
Victoria stalked to where Conor stood, and put her finger up to his face. "Conor McDougall, do not slander my brother. I will not argue this point further with you. Nor will I talk anymore until you apologize."
"Ha!" Conor leaned forward and kissed the tip of her finger. "I will not. I spoke the truth."
The light kiss made her blink in surprise. "Will you take me to my brother or not?"
"I will not," Conor replied and went to the tent's entrance. He pulled back the flap and peered out. "You must stay here, out of sight, and return with Dugan in the morning."
"You're sending me back? Will you not heed my warning?" Victoria sputtered. "You do not understand, I know my brother, he will stop at nothing to come for me."
"Then he shall die," Conor told her matter-of-factly. " I'm afraid there won't be much I can do to stop my family from defending themselves."
"Oh, my God ." Victoria shoved against his chest. "You are a stubborn, annoying, maddening man."
"And you dress like a harlot and come here expecting me to abandon a battle to accompany you to the harbor. That I announce I kidnapped you, but wish to return you. At that point, your brother will bow at my gesture, and return with you to England without question or quarrel."
He had a point. Victoria scowled at him, and then the worst thing happened. She began to cry. Not quiet ladylike sniffles, no, she began to choke on the long, hard sobs that came.
Mortified, Victoria tried to run from the tent, but Conor stopped her. His arms around her, he pulled her against him with a gentleness that contradicted his earlier behavior. "Shh, calm down, please, Victoria," his husky words made her cry harder.
Her tears soaked into his tunic. She pulled up the bottom edge and wiped her nose, not wanting to face him.
"Look at me, Victoria," he pulled her face up to him. "You must stop this crying at once."
"I do not…have to obey you." Her words a mixture of anger and hiccups .
"Very well, then cry," Conor replied. Then stopped her retort by covering her mouth with his.
She pushed against his chest, but he was immovable, his body hard as a rock. His essence surrounded her like a fog, and she gave up and wrapped her arms around his neck. How she'd missed him.
"Allow me in," Conor commanded and she parted her lips, allowing his tongue access. It probed and immediately she recognized his taste.
His hand slid down her back to cup her bottom, and lifted her up so he could pres s his hardness into her center.
Victoria moaned. She should not allow this, but her body refused to allow for