Margot anxiously rubbed the palms of her hands against her knees. “Why didn’t you send them? Why didn’t you say those things to me?”

He snorted. “Would it have made a bloody bit of difference?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I honestly don’t know. But it makes a difference now. I realize what a horrible, wretched mistake I made then.”

“Aye, that you did,” he said flatly.

“I want to make it up to you,” she said, reaching for him. Arran suddenly stood, moving away from her touch, and her hand fell to the bed. “I will do whatever it takes—I will beg your forgiveness.”

Arran laughed ruefully. “Forgive you? I can scarcely stand the sight of you, leannan.”

Margot scrambled off the bed and walked to where he stood. He tried to avoid her, but she matched his step, put her hands on his chest. “Maybe you will never forgive me. I understand. But I will die trying to set it to rights, Arran.”

He tried to turn away, but she caught his head in her hands. “Don’t give up on me!” she begged him. “You’ve kept your hope all this time. Please don’t let go of it now.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him.

Her touch, her kiss, was his undoing. It was always his undoing. He was burning inside with all the anger and disappointment he felt. He wanted for this all to be a bad dream, but the burn in him wouldn’t let him believe it. There were flames licking at his head and his heart, angry lustful flames.

He yanked the plaid from her shoulders and filled one hand with her breast. That didn’t satisfy him—he grabbed fistfuls of chemise, dragging it up until he held the flesh of her hip in his hand, squeezing it, kneading it. He pushed her back, kept pushing until she was against the bed, and then pushed her down. She landed on her back, her gaze devouring him. She was aroused by his frustration with her.

So was he.

The fire in him began to rage out of control; monstrous desire had erupted and there was no turning back. Arran yanked at his clothes, removing them, then pulling her free of the cotton chemise so that his hands could feel her warm, scented flesh, his mouth could taste her, his eyes could consume the curves and lines of the powerful potion that was the woman’s body.