Page 30 of A Highland Bride Taken
“I see ye’re still awake,” he said, not moving from the door.
“Aye, Me Laird,” she answered. “‘Tis expected. How may I serve ye?”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth, not knowing what else she could ask.
Was she being too forward by asking him so openly?
His frown darkened, and he stepped closer to her till there was only an inch between them. He smelled of wine and whiskey, as though he had indulged in a private brew after the festivities. The combination made her heady, as if she had been the one drinking.
Her body thrummed with the heat radiating off him, and her legs quivered.
He ran a hand through her hair before lifting a strand to his nose.
“Why do ye have to be so bonny?” he growled, breathing her in.
She felt the sound deep in her soul, and everything tightened in response to his caress. She hadn’t known her hair could be so sensitive.
He thinks I’m beautiful?
She didn’t know how to feel about his compliment, as she had never quite received such effusive praise from anyone before. Her sisters were the ones always getting compliments from others.
She lowered her eyes, wringing her hands as her nerves rose.
She somewhat knew what to expect, but she was still grossly unprepared for what would happen between them. He hadn’t answered her question, and she didn’t know what to do with her hands. Or was she supposed to wait for him to touch her?
Why couldn’t her mother have been a little more specific with her instructions?
She leaned into him as his hand skimmed her waist. But then it moved higher, making her breath catch in her throat.
His heat called to her like a moth to a flame, and she could only hold her breath as his hands traveled higher to places no one had touched before.
Her nipples had hardened into points, and there was an incessant throbbing between her legs, causing her to squirm and squeeze her thighs together.
How could he fire up all her senses with just a scant touch?
“Why can I nae stay away from ye?” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “Ye make me forget that I shouldnae touch ye.”
Was he perhaps feeling the same sensations? This same irrational fire in her body?
She dared a look up at him and his impossibly dark eyes. The way his body tensed, as though he was holding back, was answer enough.
Her eyes widened, unable to look away.
She felt something akin to pride rush through her, which made her step closer. She remembered how the women in novels spoke of the feeling and how they used it to bring men to their knees, and her mother had said that men liked their women bold.
“Why can I nae resist ye, lass?” His voice was strained, as if speaking was torture. “What spell have ye cast on me?”
Perhaps she wouldn’t play the timid mouse tonight.
He dug his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and leaned in. But just as her heart thrummed in anticipation of the kiss, he stopped short of her lips and turned away.
“Me Laird?” she questioned. “Have I displeased ye?”
“Nay,” he answered, stepping back. “But I cannae do this. I cannae claim ye. I willnae.”
“But… ye kissed me,” she forced out. “Ye said… Ye said it was expected of me.”
“It was never supposed to happen,” he answered with a frown. “I had a lapse in judgment. I apologize for confusing ye.”
