Page 31 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
There was much more to him than she knew, and suddenly she craved all of that, as well. Not merely the use and pleasure of his body but to learn of the man that inhabited that body. The things he’d seen, the experiences he’d endured and emerged from stronger than before. What gave him joy and what brought him sorrow—because certainly he’d known sorrow.
“I didn’t plan on this,” he said.
“So many unplanned things that can be wonderful. Since we’re attracted to each other, we could enjoy the company in bed, and it need not be anything more than that.” She reached out to touch his back—his skin was very fair, and there were freckles on his shoulders—but the moment her fingers met his flesh, he flinched.
A combat veteran flinched from her touch.
She’d vowed to make no apologies for herself or her desires, so she refused to let his rejection touch her. But the last sparks of her excitement died.
“You don’t want to be attracted to me.” She climbed out of the bed and wrapped herself in her night rail.
The major stood and faced her, with the bed between them.
“Idodesire you,” he said roughly. “Yet there’s a way I need to live my life. I’ve spent decades adhering to the rules, being a good officer. The path you’re traveling now, doing what you please—it’s not my path. I can’t . . .” He dragged his hands through his hair. “I can’tfunctionin that fashion. It unsettles me. It’s like the whole world is the edge of a blade, and I’m a moment away from cutting myself into ribbons.”
“You can balance on that blade,” she said softly.
He shook his head, his expression tormented. “There arerules. There’s a method in the way things are done. And I need it that way. It gives me... purpose. Order.”
She drew in a long breath, her heart aching for him. Because this warrior was profoundly shaken. “I understand. Yet, Major, I waited a long time to be able to livemylife the way I wanted it, free of the rules that are so essential to you. And while I respect your need for order and methodology, that isn’t who I am.”
“Don’t want to make you into someone you aren’t,” he said gruffly. “No one should.”
Be less, Bea,Edward used to say to her. He’d resented her attempts to be anything other than a prop for his self-worth. In the years before she was a married woman, she had been a girl full of excitement about the world, eager to have new experiences and fill her mind with knowledge.
She’d spent the past three years finally being the person she’d wanted to be. The major seemed to recognize this, and though she didn’t fit into the neat, contained box of his world, he didn’t try to jam herinto it. But they were clearly too different, too discordant.
Pulling her night rail snug to her body, she said softly, “Perhaps it’s best if we simply continue on as we were. Two people traveling together for a brief time, who will part ways when they reach their destination.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more—offer an apology, an explanation—but he stopped himself and then nodded. “That’s the wisest choice.”
“Go ahead and dress,” she said. “I will meet you downstairs.”
For a moment, he didn’t move, but then he began to put on his clothing. It seemed as though his military habits were deeply ingrained because he was garbed and out of the room within two minutes.
She walked to the window and looked out at a stripe of garden. Unlike the severely trimmed hedges and trees that comprised city gardens, this one was a little chaotic, a little messy, abundant with late-blooming flowers that grew in exuberant profusion.
Much as she felt disappointment that the attraction between her and Major McCameron would go no further, gazing at the garden made her smile.
We’re two wild things, she thought.And all the more beautiful for it.
Chapter 8
Duncan carried a hamper, following the countess as she selected the best spot in which to eat their midday meal. His gaze kept returning to her, the breeze molding her skirts to her legs, her hips moving with an enticing sway. She inhabited her body comfortably, and now that he’d seen that body not only nude butaroused, he cursed himself.
He could have known her feel, her taste. Yet here he was, tight with thwarted wanting, watching her take long strides across the meadow.
Lady Farris was a force unlike any he’d ever known, and she would turn his strictly regulated world on its head. At this tumultuous stage in his life, he needed certainties, order. She offered none of that. It was smarter to limit their involvement—but damn it if the decision didn’t twist in his gut.
Because he hadn’t been completely honest with her at the inn this morning. There was another reason whyhe could not become her lover, one that struck at the heart of him.
Though he spent the night with women, he wasn’t engineered the way many other men were. Sex meant something to him. He developed yearnings, feelings—which were mostly inconvenient for his lovers, who wanted only a night’s pleasure before moving on.
Perhaps, once he had returned to England, he ought to have searched in earnest for a bride. Yet Susannah’s rejection had wounded him too deeply to enter into the marriage market, so he’d remained a bachelor who occasionally fucked but hurried on before he started to care.
He wasn’t sure why he was protective of that fact. Yet he was. Maybe Rotherby and the others suspected as such—but they didn’t talk about it.
He didn’t talk about it with anyone.
