Page 19 of To My Scot, With Love
“Nae,” he said, lifting a hand. “I dinnae like the idea of you putting yourself at risk. With these mystical teas and herbs. Yer safety, well-being, is much too important to me.”
Everything in her, from her heart to her bones, softened. What a man he was. Tender, thoughtful, trustworthy.
“There’s one last thing, Malcolm.” She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. Time to admit how truly uneducated she was in all of this. She knew the kind of man Malcolm was. Knew he wouldn’t care. But for some reason, it still got stuck in her throat.
His brow wrinkled. “Aye, lass?”
“I mentioned how devoted Freddy is to his mistress.” She drew in a deep breath. “Bedding me was not…easy for him. It happened infrequently and was…perfunctory, procedural, a necessary obligation.”
“I see…” Though his tone gave away, he most definitely did not.
“What I am trying to say is…” She wrinkled her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “It is probably best you treat me as though I’m a maiden.”
She popped one eye open to see his blue eyes scanning her face.
“Ye’re saying ye’re inexperienced, lass?”
She licked over her lips. His gaze tracked the movement. “I’m two-and-thirty, Malcolm.”
“Aye,” he said, his tone lilting up in a question.
“I’ve never even been kissed,” she whispered.
And even though his intake of breath was soft, it sliced through the quiet room.
“Would you…perhaps…remedy that? For me?”
His large hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. “It would be my pleasure, love.”
13
Lydia
Malcolmleanedforward,hisbreath hovering over her lips. Lydia’s skin prickled, anticipation swirling through her chest. His gaze was locked on hers, steady, secure…but unnerving. Because of the strength of it, of how forceful the unnamed emotion was that lurked there.
Her palm landed on his chest, freezing him. Her heart stuttered. He was so large, towering over her even as they sat on the floor of his rooms, his massive hand cupping her cheek infinitely gentle. And she knew, even though his size and strength gave him an advantage—power—over her, he’d never use it.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered finally.
He studied her silently, eyes darkening like the sky before a storm. And she could feel the heat of it, the intensity, straight to the core of her. She hadn’t realized something so small, so simple, could set her aflame. She was a woman of two-and-thirty. She’d had plenty of time with her own body. With want. Heavens, she was far too familiar with painful, aching want. And now she knew this man could provide it. Fulfill it. Her heart rapped erratically in her chest.
“Just follow my lead, lass,” he finally murmured. “I’ll show you anything you want to know.”
He leaned forward, his lips almost,almosttouching hers, the comforting scent of leather and Malcolm enveloping her.
“Everything,” she whispered.
“Aye. I’ll show you everything, mo chride.”
Her lungs faltered at the endearment. She wasn’t overly familiar with Gaelic, but she knew that one.My heart.
And then his lips touched down on hers. Soft, warm, and heart-stopping. They passed slowly over hers, pressing the sweetest kisses over her bottom lip, her top lip, the corner of her mouth. She leaned into it, her chest buzzing, afraid it was near to bursting. She didn’t understand the feeling, but the gentle press of his mouth against hers…was enrapturing.
Lydia mimicked his movements, and his thick fingers curled, pressing into her scalp where he cradled her head. Her own fingers dug into his thin linen shirt, pulling him even closer as she pushed into him. He remained careful, intentional, with his feather-light presses, but with each pass, their mouths parted the tiniest bit more, lips trailing over lips, until the kiss was open-mouthed and searing. And demand pulsed heavily in Lydia’s heart and between her thighs.
“More, Malcolm,” she said against his lips, yanking on his shirt in her grip. “Closer. Show me what’s next.”
His nose brushed against the side of hers, his breath skimming over her lips and cheek. “Lie back, love.”
