Page 17 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
Instead of answering, she curled her fingers around the strap for his eyepatch at the back of his neck and used that to pull him back down to her. When he realized it, she saw him grin before he lowered his lips to hers.
Did he taste sweeterbecausehe was always smiling? Because he was such a charmer? Now that he was closer, now that she was enjoying the sensation of this kiss once more, she allowed her hands to roam, to caress. She touched his skin, ran her nails through his stubble, lightly fingered the leather of his eyepatch and the white puckered scar beneath it. Her fingers were constantly moving…
And so were his.
He had her panting with need, which made her feel strange. She barely knew the man, and yet—St. Crystal help me!—she was ready to lift her skirts here and now. She wanted him, and when his lips moved to her jaw and then her neck, she arched back to allow him easier access.
There on the dock of the convent of St. Dorcas the Ever Petulant, she allowed her clan’s enemy to touch and fondle and suck and—Oh God! He did something with his tongue to the sensitive spot under her ear and her knees buckled.
He chuckled as he caught her, and she felt it in his chest.
She didn’t even know earscouldbe sensitive. Good heavens, it was justan ear.
This required investigation.
In fact, thisallrequired investigation. It was remarkable that this man’s touch could affect her in a way her own touch didn’t. She had caressed her own skin, pinched her own nipples…it did naught, compared to this man’s touch.
When she moaned, he swallowed it. And she felt his lips curl.
St. Crystal’s uvula, why did this man’s smiles make her knees weak?
‘Tisnae his smiles…’tis his lips.
Well, aye, those too.
“Help! Oh, help her!”
It took a moment for the call to penetrate Nicola’s daze. In fact, ‘twas Ramsay who lifted her away from him and set her down on the dock, then released her and stepped away.
She stood there, swaying, bereft of his support and quite certain the sun hadn’t been so bright a moment ago when she’d been locked in his arms…watching Sister Mary Margarita walking toward the pier.
Backward.
In the distance, Sister Mary Tits McGee was hurtling toward them—a magnificent sight, enough to put anyone in mind of a very determined pudding—waving her arms and screaming, “Help her!”
Nicola couldn’t seem to make her brain work, but Ramsay had no such problems. “She’s going to walk into the loch, the daft nun.”
Nicola heard Ramsay sigh, and when she turned to glance at him, the man’s lips curled wryly. She answered him with a helpless smile of her own.
The moment was enough. He dragged his hand through his hair, and with a rueful smile, jumped to grab hold of the approaching woman.
Who screeched and slapped him.
Nicola hurried to explain as Sister Mary Titania skid to a panting stop at the end of the pier. “Sister Mary Margarita, ye were about to step into the loch. Ramsay was trying to save ye.”
“Save me?” the nun sniffed haughtily. “I was going for a contemplative swim.”
“Ye silly woman,” boomed the Mother Superior, hustling forward to take the other nun’s arm. “Ye cannae swim with all yer clothing on!”
“Ican! Let go of me.”
Sister Mary Titania merely sent a lewd wink over her shoulder. “Let me escort ye to the other side of the island and leave these two in peace. From what I glimpsed, Ramsay must have something lodged in the back of his throat and Lady Nicola was helping him extricate it.”
The other nun’s eyes had gone wide. “How?”
As the pair bustled off, Mother Superior chortled, “With her tongue!”
Shuffling away—backward, of course—Sister Mary Margarita made a beckoning gesture. “Lady Nicola, Sister Mary Rhubarbara has burned herself again. When ye have the opportunity, might ye visit her in the kitchens?”
