Page 45 of Never Kiss a Scot
She nodded. “I would. That is, if you do. If you do not, I—”
He crossed the room before she could speak further, and he kissed her hard, that rush of passion exploding between them again.
She chuckled as they broke apart. “Is that a yes?”
He grinned. “It is. I didna think you would want to, so I didna think to ask.”
“Never be afraid to ask, Brock,” she said softly. “I want us to be open with each other, unafraid to speak on such things.”
He rubbed his hands up and down her back, sighing. “I’m so used to keeping my thoughts to myself. My father…” Brock’s gaze turned distant. “He never wanted to talk, and when he did, I didn’t usually wish to hear what he had to say. The man was cruel. It made for a lonely childhood, even with my brothers and my sister.”
“You were all trapped by pain. I understand that.” She and her siblings had grown up in a similar way, but at least they’d always had their mother.
“Never give up on me, lass. Don’t let me shut you out.” Brock’s voice was rough with emotion.
“I won’t,” she promised.
Then she squealed as something moved under the covers of the bed beside them.
Brock spun and grasped the edge of the coverlet, pulling the green fabric back. A gray-bodied beast the size of a small dog trundled toward them. Its face was black with a large and snowy-white stripe down the center.
“Ach, Freya! What are you doing here, wee one?” Brock picked up the creature and set her down on the ground.
“Is that…a badger?” Joanna stared down at the beast, knowing it was indeed a badger, but she couldn’t believe she was watching one inside the castle, inherbed.
“Shoo! Go on with you, Freya.” Brock nudged the badger into the corridor with his boot. The badger huffed, lifted her head, and trotted with surprising speed down the hall and out of sight.
“She is one of Aiden’s. You will find wee beasties all through the house, I’m afraid. We have owls nesting in the roof of the library, a fox in the kitchens, and at least half a dozen other creatures roaming the corridors. I hope that willna upset you.”
“No,” Joanna said with a smile. “I think it’s charming. She just frightened me. One doesn’t expect a badger in one’s bed.”
At this Brock laughed heartily. “Ach, lass, but youdohave a badger in your bed. Or are you forgetting?” He snapped his teeth at her playfully like a badger, and she burst into giggles and lightly shoved his chest. He caught her by the waist.
“I love your home,” she said when she finally stopped laughing.
“Ourhome. ’Tis yours as well now.”
“Our home,” she echoed, her face heating again. “Why don’t you show me your room?”
“I’d be happy to.” He escorted her from the tower, and they headed toward his chambers. Joanna couldn’t stop smiling.
I suppose I do have a badger in my bed.
17
Brock held his breath as he led Joanna into his bedchamber. It was not the official room of the laird of Castle Kinkade. That had been his father’s chamber, and Brock would never sleep in that room. It was as though his father’s presence still lingered there. But this chamber, the one that had two large windows facing the lake, was his favorite. It had high vaulted ceilings and a large four-poster bed with dark-blue bed hangings. Two overstuffed armchairs faced the fireplace. Joanna moved straight to them, touching the warm fabric with a smile.
“It’s very inviting,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. Lord, he was having trouble keeping his hands off her, but he needed to. He needed to give her time to heal from the first time they were together.
“I’m glad you like it. If you ever wish to, you may sleep in the other room, although I hope you will stay here with me each night. Would you care to go riding before dinner?” he offered. If they were riding and touring the countryside, he would not be easily tempted to take her back to bed. He held out his hand to her.
“I would like that very much.” When she placed her hand in his and smiled up at him, arousal hit him hard. Perhaps he had been too hasty in his reasoning to avoid bedding her again so soon. Brusquely, he led her down to the castle courtyard, pointing out various niches of the grounds that reminded him of the better parts of his youth. He fought valiantly to resist the sweet warmth of her skin and his together as they held hands. For the first time in his life, he was viewing his lands as a means of seduction rather than a source of shame for the condition they were in. Which hedgerow could he press her into? Which garden path could he lead her to and be certain they would be alone?
Before they entered the stables, he pulled her close, slipping his other arm around her, enclosing her within his embrace so that he could kiss her soundly. The sweetness of her settled in against his soul and hummed through his blood, giving him the strength to pull away from her and guide her toward the fresh horses that had been readied for them, while their other horses rested from the journey.
“Oh, Joanna.” Brock smiled suddenly, his hands around her waist as he prepared to lift her onto her mount. “I’m afraid I dinna have a sidesaddle here, love.” And with that warning, he lifted her high and placed her gently onto the horse. The skirts of her carriage dress rode up over her knees, and she blushed as he placed a small kiss above her stocking.
“I’ll have to order new riding gowns from London or Edinburgh, I suppose,” she reasoned, eyes following Brock to his own horse. “Ones that would be suitable for riding astride.”
