Page 55 of The Burden of a Scottish Chieftain
“Lennox, this is not amusing for me.”
“I know, and I am sorry. But I surely would like to see this baron of yours. I do hope I get to meet him someday.”
That comment upset her more. And then he laughed again. This time she became so irritated she wished to shove him.
So she did.
Pushing his chest as hard as she could, she grumbled, “Stop laughing. I don’t like people laughing at me. I lived alone for half of my life, so I don’t know as much as others. It’s not something that I think is funny.”
The look in his eyes turned smoldering, something that said he liked her. It almost reminded her of the baron, but…
Lennox MacVey was nothing like the baron. Tears misted her gaze, but she fought them, refusing to let him see how he had upset her.Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three…
He took one hand and tugged her closer. “Lass, I’m not laughing at you. I find the way you’re willing to stand up to me extremely alluring. Come closer. I wish to teach you something.”
“What?”
“Closer.” He tugged a bit more and she stepped toward him, his scent washing over her. Seawater and mint, that’s what he smelled like. She was suddenly overcome by his closeness, his strength, how everything about him was all man, that he was hard everywhere—yet his touch was gentle.
There was nothing about Lennox MacVey that she understood, except that she liked him. He tugged her so close that she could see that smoldering look in his gaze, that the breadth of his shoulders overpowered her senses, heat emanating from every part of him. She could nearly look him in the eye, but not quite.
His gaze locked on hers and his aura overwhelmed her. Unable to control herself, she dropped her gaze and did the one thing she was powerless to stop. Her tongue shot out and licked the bead of water in the small crevice above his chin.
Lennox closed his eyes and let out a growl unlike any sound she’d ever heard. Waiting for his next move, she stared up at him until he opened his eyes again.
“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
“Nay, but…is it something good?”
In a voice two tones deeper than his usual, he said, “Oh, it is verra good.”
She waited a wee bit more, noticing how her breathing had increased, something that happened when she was agitated, but then she noticed his breathing was faster than her own. She glanced up at his eyes, still locked on something over her head. She’d never been this close to a man either. His skin was a deep bronze from the sun, his beard scruffy since they’d been traveling. “Your beard grows quickly.” She rubbed her cheek against his to see how scratchy it was, and he groaned again.
In a tightly controlled voice, he said, “I ask you to allow me to kiss you. You have never been kissed properly, and for someone as beautiful as you? That’s a sin, in my eyes.” His thumb brushed her cheek, and the other hand came up to sweep the stray hairs from her face as he leaned closer, the darkness of the night blocking out everything but him. He whispered, “You have a wee rash from my beard. Be careful. Your skin is too soft, much too fine.”
He dipped his head toward hers, and she had the shocking urge to touch him all over. What would it feel like to be kissed by someone handsome and kind and bossy?Sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three…
“May I?” His blue eyes locked on hers, and he arched his brow.
She nodded, her hands reaching for his forearms, then sliding up to his powerful upper arms, just before his lips descended on hers. He kissed her tenderly and he tasted of mint leaves. He angled his mouth sideways, and his tongue teased her until she parted her lips, allowing him in, but just a wee bit. She didn’t trust him, though she already knew this would be nothing like the baron’s horrid kiss.
She stopped counting and sighed, giving in to him. Allowing him to do whatever he wished. He crushed her in his embraceand her arms moved around to his back, relishing the feel of his muscles in her hands as he moved.
His tongue ravished her, and she did the only thing she could think to do—she touched her tongue to his and he groaned, pulling her tighter, and she was lost. Lost in all that was Lennox—his strength, his taste, his power, his scent, the feel of his body against hers. She had the sudden urge to remove their clothes so she could feel his skin against hers.
Lennox awakened desires within her that she’d never had before. Her nipples tingled and her breath hitched, and the seam between her legs pressed against him, against something hard, something that confused her. Something that sent opposing feelings raging through her—the need to pull that hardness closer yet push it away.
She shoved at his chest and leaned against the cold stone wall, gasping, fighting to regulate her breathing. Her fingers went to her lips, surprised to feel them swollen.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a ragged breath. “I went too far, lass. I shouldn’t have.”
She waited until her breathing calmed a bit, taking her time to study Lennox. He wasn’t laughing now, his voice husky, his breathing more labored than her own. His hand ran down his face as his other hand went to his hips.
“I got carried away. You are too innocent. I’m sorry.”
She whispered, “Don’t be. I liked it.” And she strode toward him, cupped his cheeks, and kissed him back, mimicking everything he’d done to her. Her heart soared as every part of her came alive. His hands came up to her breasts, rubbing her nipples through the fabric, and she arched toward him. He lifted her, wrapping her legs around him, then carrying her to the darkest corner of the cave.
He ended the kiss and said, “This has to end now or naught good will come of it, lass. Trust me. I’ll get the plaids from mysaddlebag.” He set her down, grabbed the bag, and pulled out the extra plaids he always had, placing one on the floor and pointing. “Get comfortable. You’ll sleep in my arms this night, or you’ll become ill again.”
