Page 77 of The Highlander's Princess Bride
“After Cam died, I lost myself. I did things I’m not proud of.”
Victoria squeezed his hand. “You lost so much. First your wife, and then your little boy.”
“No, Angus was right. The rest of them were grieving too, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything other than Cam was dead and Logan was responsible.”
From what she’d heard, Logan had taken the loss almost as hard as his brother, but now was not the time to make such an argument. “I’m sure you did the best you could for everyone.”
He scoffed. “I abandoned my family when they needed me the most, using my military duty as an excuse. I was a coward.”
“Now, that is just nonsense. And I might venture to add, my lord, that it is not productive to engage in self-recrimination when one is feeling, ah, under the weather.”
“Spoken like a true governess,” he said, gently taunting. “Do you have any other advice for me?”
She thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps you might stop blaming yourself for everything?”
Arnprior snorted. “You must admit I’ve done an appalling job with my brothers, especially the twins. I should have been here to ride herd over them, as well as attend to the rest of my responsibilities.”
“Graeme and Grant are grown men. They are not entirely brainless and are certainly old enough to know better.” She frowned. “Well, Graeme acts as if he is rather brainless, but I’m still hopeful we can work on that.”
He softly chuckled, then let go of her hand only to capture her chin between his fingers. “Miss Knight, have I told you lately how happy I am that I hired you?”
She stared at him, once more transfixed by his amazing eyes. “I think you have, from time to time, communicated your appreciation.”
When he chuckled again, she couldn’t help wincing at how starched up she sounded.
A silence fell over the room, broken only by the occasional pop of the embers and the slow, steady rhythm of his breath. And perhaps he could hear the thrumming of her heart, which was beating so hard she wanted to press a hand to her chest. It seemed impossible to move, even though she should be scrambling to put distance between them.
His gaze slid down to her mouth, and then he tilted her chin up to bring her closer as he leaned in. He was going to kiss her, and she couldn’t do a thing to stop him.
Correction. She didn’twishto do a thing to stop him, even though stern warnings were writing themselves across her brain in big, black letters.
His warm breath whispered over her face. “Och, lassie, I don’t believe I’ve shown my appreciation quite enough.”
It was the brogue that did it, by adding a rough, husky note that seduced her as nothing else could have. Her eyelids fluttered shut, her entire being waiting for his kiss.
The soft sweep of his callused thumb brushed over her lips, then traced their outline. That simple touch weakened every muscle in her body. When his mouth descended on hers, it took every ounce of strength not to collapse into a heap at his feet—becausethatwould have been an extraordinarily stupid waste of the moment.
Arnprior kissed her slowly but possessively, with soft, damp caresses that teased her mouth with delicious warmth. His tongue slipped gently along the seam of her lips, not pushing or rushing, but simply tasting. After several moments of soft teasing, he then kissed her again with a provocative pressure that made her want to cling to him.
By now, both of his big hands were cradling her head as he kissed her with leisurely expertise. Her fingers fluttered up to rest on his wrists as she absorbed the heady taste of whisky and a man who knew exactly what he wanted. She sensed the barely leashed passion in him and the danger that the slightest push would tip him over the edge. He would then take what she so tentatively offered, dragging them down a path from which there was no return.
Victoria wanted him as much as he wanted her. But the earl was drunk and weary of soul, no doubt simply seeking comfort in the first available warm body. It surely had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with the grief and worry that threatened to overwhelm him.
So stop him. Now.
His firm mouth moved over hers in a seductive slide that somehow obliterated any desire to retreat or deny him. When his tongue slipped out to gently press open her lips, she couldn’t hold back a moan.
In an instant, everything changed. He growled low in his throat, his tongue surging into her mouth as he devoured her with a soul-searing passion she’d never imagined could exist. Victoria’s entire body began to throb with desire, urging her to press herself against him without restraint or shame.
When he suddenly let her go, she gasped and clutched at his knees to keep from toppling over. For a moment, they stared at each other. His blue eyes were hungry and turbulent, his breath unsteady. Victoria knew she should take the chance to escape, but all she could do was stare at him, transfixed by the irresistible pull of his passionate gaze.
“Come here, you,” he growled.
A moment later, he clamped his hands around her waist and swept her up into his lap. She sucked in a startled breath, amazed by his almost frightening strength. This time, however, when he tried to settle her across his lap for more devastating kisses, she resisted, slapping both hands on his chest to hold him off. For a moment, she was distracted by the feel of his hard muscles under the slippery silk of his waistcoat.
His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“You cannot possibly wish to kiss me.” She’d hoped to sound more decisive, but her voice came out on a breathy squeak.
