Page 16 of In Love With the Wrong Highland Sister
“You are not my guest but Laird MacLean’s, so I cannot send you away,” James replied. He looked at Agnes, whose gaze dropped to the floor.
“Agnes, I will make sure that you enjoy yourself this evening,” he said kindly, then he glared from under his brows at Colin McCann again. “Remember what I said, McCann.”
Agnes looked at her father, who nodded. He walked away, and James smiled at her. “Come, I want you to meet my brother while I attend to a little business. He can show you around.”
Eloisa and Gavin were together again, and James frowned when he saw them, feeling a stab of jealousy and wondering what it would take to be able to change places with his brother. They were surprised to be introduced to Agnes since James had explained the whole sorry tale to them, but now Gavin welcomed her warmly.
“Agnes!” he said happily. He shot a questioning glance at his brother. “How good to see you.” He introduced her to Eloisa, and the two ladies started an animated conversation about fashion, then wandered away to meet a few of Eloisa’s friends.
“What was all that about?” Gavin demanded.
“I felt sorry for her,” James sighed. “She has been badly used. Her father does not deserve such a lovely daughter. Now, I am going outside for a breath of air. Excuse me.”
Gavin frowned as he watched his brother thread his way through the crowd. It took him a while since he was waylaid at every turn by eager mothers and their equally eager daughters. He laughed softly to himself. He had an idea that James was not seeking a breath of fresh air but something—or someone—else.
* * *
Laria was about to flee to her bedroom and crawl under the blankets when she saw that there was a full moon outside. She had always loved moonlight, and now that it was at its zenith, she stood on the wall surrounding the moat, looking up at its silver-bright glow with something akin to awe.
The valley below the castle had a few crofters’ cottages in it, and now their thatched roofs and the spruce trees standing between them were lit with a cold white sheen that contrasted with the black darkness underneath their branches.
In the distance, the moonlight drew a perfectly straight line of light across the water of the Broon Loch, which was not disturbed by even a breath of wind. It was a magical sight, and Laria imagined herself jumping into the air and flying up, up, upward like the seagulls she had seen so many times before, all the way to that silver orb in the black sky. What would it be like when she arrived there? Would it be cold and bare or full of people like herself?
She could have stood and indulged in her fantasy all night, even though she was freezing and shivering. At last, however, she became so cold that she turned and walked inside again, trying to make up her mind whether to go back inside to the ceilidh or hide in the comfort of her bedroom.
Even before she had met Robbie, she had never been comfortable in great gatherings of people, and now that he was no longer here to shield her, she felt exposed and vulnerable. No, she decided. It was better to steal away on her own, go back to her bed and relive happy memories for a while before going to sleep.
She turned and went back into the castle again, making for the stairway that led to the bedrooms, but suddenly, as she passed a shaded spot between the torches on the wall, James appeared. He looked just as startled to see her as she was to see him since they had almost bumped into each other, and she put out her hands to steady herself at the same moment that he gripped her upper arms to keep her upright.
“Where were you?” he asked anxiously. “I was looking for you.”
“Really?” she asked drily, pulling out of his grasp. “I was minding my own business,” she snapped.
“Are you all right?” His voice was anxious as he studied her, then noticed that she was trembling with cold. He whipped his coat off and draped it around her, then held the lapels together at the front so that she could not rip it off again, for he was well enough acquainted with her by now to know that she would not take his help without a fight.
Their gazes dueled, but Laria gave in, not because she was cowed by him, but because the jacket had been heated by his body, and as she nestled into it, a blissful warmth settled over her. It was the next best thing to being in his arms, she thought, then caught herself short. Where hadthatthought come from?
James was hopelessly lost. Laria’s dress was ugly and unbecoming, her hair as stylish as an old woman’s, and her attitude hostile enough to freeze any lover’s ardor, yet he wanted her. His body surged with arousal as he held his coat over Laria’s chest, feeling the softness of her breasts underneath. He could smell her; no perfume mixed from the most exotic of perfumed oils could have made the scent of Laria the woman more exquisite. His heart was beating so fast that he was sure she must be able to hear it.
“Laria…” he began, then swallowed nervously. “Don’t go. Please.”
She watched as his face moved closer to hers until she could see every bristle on his cheeks, then, almost without volition, she reached up to touch him, rubbing her palm along his cheek and his jawline, moaning softly at the pleasant rasping sensation.
The noise she made was enough to tip James over the edge of his control. “Laria,” he said harshly, then his mouth swooped down on hers.
For a frozen moment, Laria could not respond, then she began to answer to the sensuous movements of his lips on hers. She felt herself being guided backward until she was pressed into the wall inside a little shadowed alcove. Then she let go, giving herself up completely to the almost unbearable pleasure of his kiss.
James felt as though he had been drugged, for a madness had taken over his body, and he was firmly in its grips as he prised Laria’s lips open with his tongue, which tangled with and stroked hers in a passionate, sensual dance. He pushed her harder against the wall and ground his hips against hers, letting his body tell her how much she was affecting him.
Laria felt the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against her most sensitive place as he rocked his hips and thighs against her. She felt herself melting as a warm wetness gathered at her core, and her breasts began to tingle. She slid her hands down his back to cup his buttocks and pull him even closer, but the only thing between them now was their clothes.
“Laria,” he whispered, as he cupped one of her breasts, teasing out the nipple with his thumb. Even though he could not feel her skin under the barrier of her clothes, he knew that her flesh would be soft and yielding under his fingers. “You are driving me to madness.”
Even through three layers of clothing, the feeling was glorious, and Laria gave herself up once more to mindless pleasure as she thrust her breasts into his hands. His kiss was becoming savage as he pressed his lips hard against hers, and she tasted blood in her mouth.
However, she was too far gone to care. Something wanton and wild had taken over her, a demon put there by James, whose hands were roaming all over her. It was so exquisite that it was almost unbearable, but when she felt James’s hands on her thigh under her skirt, she shook herself back to reality.
“James…” Her voice was urgent, but it took him a moment to hear it. He was too busy stroking his way along her thigh and licking and nibbling her neck. Eventually, she gave him a little shove, and he stood up, letting her skirts drop to the floor. “Stop. We cannot do this.” She looked furious as she turned, pushed her way out of his arms, and fled.
