Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) by Angeline Fortin (whitelam books .TXT) 📗

She caught her breath at the idea of picking up just where they’d left off but he dashed away the heady thought by adding, “I will be wanting answers. Tae all my questions.”

Nodding jerkily, she left the room, hearing Ceana ask sweetly before she was out of earshot, “Really? What kinds of questions, Keir? Her bed or yours?”

Al scrambled away, not waiting to hear his reply.

Chapter 11

The next morning dawned sunny and bright. Drawn to the sun after so many days without it, Al threw on one of the dresses left for her. By trial and error she found her way out to the library terrace and down the stone steps to the garden beyond. In and out of the intricate pathways she weaved, soaking up the sun and absorbing the formal beauty of neat hedgerows. The lushness of the flowers. How the variety of plants had been carefully chosen to work with the layout. The care and upkeep that had to be involved in maintaining it.

Her thoughts followed a similarly complex path. Just as they had all night. The future. The past. Her future in the past. It tied her in knots.

As did thoughts of Keir. His undeniable appeal. The startling attraction she felt for him. In contrast to her initial impression of him, he’d been remarkably sweet and caring last night. His flattery touched her somewhere deep inside.

But the implication of Ceana’s taunting question preoccupied her late into the night. The insinuation that he wouldn’t hesitate to sleep with her. The assumption that she would consent.

While those thoughts weren’t pleasurable, they were better than dwelling on less pleasant aspects of her situation. If she let her imagination take root, who knew what it might come up with? As she’d told him, she’d work something out. She had to.

In the meantime, she’d rather focus her energies on working him out. Ceana’s evocative remark combined with Keir’s own commentary regarding his frequent relations with women while on his Grand Tour, suggested he’d been—as her books might say—something of a rake in the past.

Perhaps he still was. Having frequent affairs with a variety of women. As much as a part of her liked the idea of joining the ranks of his lovers, another part recoiled from the thought of becoming just another notch on his bedpost.

She liked a tender happily-ever-after and assuming that wasn’t going to happen with him—and she was certain it would not—she determined that it might be best to let her fantasies remain just that and let the opportunity pass.

At least that’s what her mind decided.

Her body adamantly disagreed.

Not only was he the single bright possibility in this place, he might be her only chance in life at having a man who curled her toes with a single look.

“I’ve a shiny sterling for the thoughts going through that lovely head of yers.”

Al peered up to find Keir striding toward her from across the long lawn beyond the garden. He was wet, perhaps just coming from a swim in the lake in the distance. Gone was the polished gentleman of the previous night, and in his place once more was the masculine Highlander capable of inspiring heart-pounding awe topped with a touch of trepidation.

He was wearing only a low-slung kilt of brown, gray and black plaid with narrow stripes of red and white, flapping around his muscular thighs with each step, and a pair of leather boots laced tightly up his calves. The sight was enough to make her wonder if all the speculation about what a Scotsman did, and more importantly, did not wear under his kilt were true.

But she couldn’t give the subject the deliberation it deserved just then. He’d slung his shirt over his shoulder leaving his broad, damp chest distractingly bare. Broad and thick with muscle, sprinkled with just the right amount of dark hair, the sight only reaffirmed the inclination of her desires.

He studied her curiously. Refusing to blush, she gave the most nonchalant shrug she could manage. Hoped he didn’t notice her sudden trembling.

“Nothing interesting.”

“Nay?”

“No.”

He grinned at her flat denial. The flash of his white teeth in contrast to his tanned skin, the deviltry dancing in those gorgeous eyes, sent her heart rate soaring.

He knew his appeal, damn him.

Definitely a rake.

“I was just aboot tae come looking for ye.” He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head back as if enjoying the warmth of the sun. He shook his head, his mop of wet hair sending out a spray of water droplets that landed like diamonds on his bronzed shoulders and chest. They glistened in the sunlight.

As if she needed to be dazzled any further.

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Really? Why?”

He studied her intently. “Tae continue our conversation from last night, of course.”

Which one, she wondered? The flirtatious one or the serious one?

“And tae make sure ye dinnae flee intae the night.”

“Of course,” she responded tartly. “As if I have so many better places to be.”

It was difficult to know where to rest her eyes. Meeting his gaze only aroused and aggravated her as his look was so annoyingly knowing. Scanning the rest of him… well, that was equally arousing and aggravating as well. For all his flattery, he didn’t seem nearly as affected by her presence as she was by his. Parts of her body she’d never been fully aware of before were quivering.

“Will you please put your shirt on?”

“Am I making ye uncomfortable?” he asked mischievously. “Does the sight of me offend yer feminine sensibility?”

“Not at all,” she responded, and hoping to divert him added, “Where I come from, shirtless men are no big deal. At the beach, both men and women hardly wear anything at all.”

“Hardly anything?”

Al gave him a brief description of a string bikini, not that she’d ever dared to have her generous curves confined so tenuously.

Gratifyingly, his eyes warmed and his brogue was husky when