Page 35 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
Then, he stepped around her, grabbed the tablecloth, and threw everything to the floor. Emma gasped, before he seized her by the waist and lifted her onto the table.
“I told ye,” Grant murmured as he cradled her face once again, and her entire body hummed with lust. “Now, spread yer legs.”
Emma, drunk on his kisses, did not hesitate to obey, and he stepped between her legs.
A big hand squeezed her thigh, and pleasure shot straight to her core, making her arch her back.
“Mm, that’s it,” Grant murmured. “I kenned ye were a canny thing.”
Emma had never imagined a man with such a hoarse and smoky voice, never known a man with such a voice, or how it would drive her to a delicious distraction. His other hand trailed up one side of her neck, and he pressed his lips to the other.
She all but purred, tilting her head to give him better access, and again, she felt him smile against her. His lips traced the delicate skin there, then up to her ear, and she shivered with unimaginable pleasure. She fisted one hand in her skirts and arched into him again, and he pressed against her then. Her other hand found his face, and they kissed.
This time, their kiss was wilder, hungrier. Even Emma knew that. She felt like she was spinning out of control, reaching for something that her body instinctively knew but she did not. The Laird’s hands roamed over her thighs, her sides, her back. But he did not touch her anywhere else.
Not yet.
Emma opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling, noticing that the light was fading. Grant trailed his lips to her jaw, as though to let her catch her breath. Only, as she gulped in the air, she could not be sure how much time had passed—but it was too much time.
At that moment, his lips trailed over the swell of her breast, and she inhaled sharply. Grant paused and looked up at her.
“Now, where have ye gone?” he asked and made to kiss her again.
Emma almost let him. Instead, she held out her hands and pushed him back. “No.”
He stilled and cocked his head. “What do ye mean? Come here?—”
Tugging at her dress, Emma shook her head and pushed him back again.
This time, Grant stepped back, and Emma hopped off the table. The entire room seemed different—brighter and more real—but a chill was creeping into her veins.
“Emma.”
Her entire body stirred to the sound of her name on his lips.
“You were right, Laird Ronson,” she spoke softly, looking away from him. “You may not need words to seduce a lady, though I admit you are clever with them.” She shook her head. “But either way, I cannot be one of them.”
And with that, she left the room.
Grant panted as he stared at her retreating figure, even long after she was gone. The sun had finally set, shrouding Tarry Hall in a blue shadow, and he turned around. Reaching down to the mess on the floor, he grabbed a glass tumbler and smashed it against the table.
But he did it poorly, and a shard from the handle sliced his palm. Clenching his fist, he watched the blood dribble down and sighed.
Get a hold of yerself, man,a voice suspiciously like that of Laird MacCabe said in his head.
He dropped the tumbler and picked up Emma’s napkin from the floor, clumsily wrapping it around his hand. Then, he strode out, only pausing to apologize to the wide-eyed servant who had rushed to the commotion, and inquired where Emma had gone.
The servant pointed to the left, and Grant moved quickly, his patience running thin. He wasn’t sure what he would say when he found her, but he needed to speak with her—nay, he needed toseeher.
“… need nae lie to me, lass. I willnae judge ye.”
Grant paused when he heard his mother’s voice and then moved closer to a bend in the hallway, listening hard.
“Truly, Lady Ronson,” Emma replied, her voice higher than he’d heard it. He grinned. “I know not what you speak of.”
“Oh?” Brenda murmured. Grant could almost see the look on his mother’s face, detached yet scrutinizing. “Perhaps the servants meant to call me to a different room where there was a commotion like a table had been upended.”
Grant winced. What had he been thinking?
