Page 40 of Miss Delightful
“Everybody back home makes whisky, but the MacKays have blazed a trail of mercantile daring. Now we actually pay the tithe to the exciseman so we can export our whisky.Uisge beathais not a drink for gentlemen in their drawing rooms, but there’s demand for it in the taverns and a few of the lesser clubs. The drovers in particular are fond of our brew. Would you like to try a nip?”
He withdrew his flask and passed it over.
“You are daring me?” She’d sampled from his flask before, but to offer the libation now was more than a friendly gesture to distract a woman from her upset.
“I’m inviting you to enjoy the MacKay family’s pride and joy, or one of them. I count myself as another, and you’re welcome to sample me too.” Though simply sitting with his arm around Dorcas’s shoulders and her soft weight against his side was a delight beyond words.
She uncorked the flask and tipped it to her lips. “I could grow to enjoy your family’s pride and joy. The warmth is impressive, Mr. MacKay.”
Alasdhair. Please call me Alasdhair.“So are your kisses.”
“I’ve only kissed you the once.” She corked the flask and returned it to him. “Barely a kiss, at that.”
Alasdhair needed for her to make the next overture, not only because he was out of practice and still somewhat at sea—a recitation of ancient history had not been among his plans for the day—but also because a woman might say one thing and mean something else entirely.
Come with me to the stablemight meanPlease, don’t murder my children.
Powell’s sisters berated him for racketing about London, but what they really meant waswe miss you, we love you, we worry for you.
I respect youfrom Dorcas could well mean something other thanI would like to tear your clothes off this instant and spend the rest of my life with you.
Though a man could hope.
She studied the toes of her boots. “I am not in the habit of kissing anybody. I nuzzle my cat.”
“Lucky cat. Would you perhaps like to nuzzle me, Dorcas?”
She nodded. Just that, but her nod was firm. She knew what she wanted, though perhaps not how to embark on its pursuit. Alasdhair rose and offered her his hand.
“I desperately long for your nuzzling,” he said, helping her to her feet. “I dream of your voice, full of light and confidence, and the sound of it wraps around my heart. I recall the brush of your lips against my cheek, and everything inside me turns to yearning.”Kiss me, please. For the love of all that’s dear, kiss me.
He kept hold of her hand, lest she march off to flirt with his horse again.
“You think I am delightful.” She slid her palm up his arm to rest her fingers at his nape. “You are daft, Mr. MacKay.”
“I am yours.”
She pressed her lips to his, gently and sweetly.
He held still, buffeted by tenderness and desire, determined that the initiative remain hers. “More, please.” He’d beg if she wanted him to beg.
Dorcas tried a brush of mouth upon mouth, then settled in for a taste of him. By the stealthiest of increments, she rested her weight against him, until she was enfolded in his embrace, and he was kissing her back. The joy was too profound to be rushed, the relief even greater. A homecoming for the soul, a wonderment Alasdhair had never thought to experience.
When Dorcas kissed him, the pleasure wasn’t merely of the body, but also of the heart. She respected him. Sherespectedhim, and how he had needed to hear those words and not known it.
“I like kissing you,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest. “I wasn’t sure I would, but you don’t plunder and strut. You listen with your kisses.”
Alasdhair had no earthly idea what she was going on about. “I can plunder, if you tell me that’s what you want of me.”
She recommenced kissing him and proved that she was capable of plundering too. Also of making off with his wits and inspiring a certain masculine appendage to stand at attention.
“You desire me,” she said, peering up at him.
“I delight in desiring you and hope you want me as well.”
Dorcas eased away, and despite all temptation to the contrary, Alasdhair let her go. He would always let her go.
“I know where kittens come from, Alasdhair MacKay. Don’t think a preacher’s daughter is permitted to remain ignorant at my great age. I know precisely the path Melanie trod to become a mother. Kissing isn’t the end of it.”
