Taken by Angeline Fortin (great books of all time TXT) 📗

turned to find that Scarlett had cast away her bag and was shrugging off Rhys’ doublet.  The thin strap of her gown was caught by the heavy garment and slipped off her shoulder.  His eyes followed it as it fell halfway down her arm, the flimsy bodice catching on the peak of her breast.  She wore nothing beneath the gown, James knew.  Her small, firm breast rounded enticingly, plump against the shadows of her ribs, contrasting against the fine line of her clearly delineated collarbone.

Hunger gnawed at him, driving away his exhaustion.  His fingers itched to trace the bone with the pad of his thumb, his palm burned to feel the weight of her breast once more.  Swallowing painfully, he waited as she righted the strap before forcing his gaze upward.

“The King’s initial plans are to invade through Newcastle,” he said.  “Do ye plan to pass that information on to yer friend the Queen?”

The lass rolled her eyes at him while stretching tiredly.  Her breasts strained against her bodice, drawing his eye once more.  “No, just curious.  Wondering if I’ve heard of it.”

“Hae ye?”

“Yes, it’s a beer.  That’s about all I know.”

The candlelight cast her shorn hair in flames and licked at her slender, bared neck.  Off the curve of her ear.  It made him realize that for all the bared bosoms he had laid eyes upon in his life, he had rarely seen a woman’s naked ear.  Fashion in headdress and hairstyles kept them modestly covered in public.  There was something profoundly erotic about the curved shell, the tiny diamond dangling from her lobe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.  “I already told you I’m not a spy.”

A smart girl would have turned and run from Laird Hepburn the first chance she got.  Everything about him spelled danger, but instinctively Scarlett knew that he wouldn’t hurt her.  Not only because he hadn’t already but simply because it wouldn’t be his style to harm a woman.  She’d assumed she was safe with him.

Perhaps she wasn’t entirely.

Because that wasn’t suspicion written in his eyes, Scarlett realized.  No, she must be wrong.  Certainly that wasn’t desire she was seeing?

Scarlett stilled as he reached out, tracing his finger along the shell of her ear and along the soft edge of her lobe.  A shiver ran down her spine that certainly wasn’t fear. His gaze shifted downward then, answering her unspoken question and Scarlett felt her lips tingle in response.

Wide-eyed now, she stared at him, the crescent of dark lashes against his angular cheeks before his eyes opened to meet hers.  His eyes were not the icy steel she was fast becoming accustomed to but churned like a stormy sky. Or like hot, fluid pewter.

Surely he wasn’t…?

But he was.

His head dipped, those heavenly lips brushing across hers ever so lightly.  Awakening.  Tempting.  Scarlett knew she should have denied him.  Turned away.   Bit his lip even but that kiss, as light as it was, skittered through her leaving pure pleasure in its wake.  With a gasp of surprise, her lips parted.

Though by no means an invitation, it was encouragement enough.  Laird’s lips opened over hers, his tongue sweeping lightly and unhurriedly across hers.  Whiskers prickled against her chin and she gave into temptation, raking her fingers along his jaw.  Blood roared like a crashing wave in her ears and Scarlett’s head swam as if she were drowning in truth.

Pressing both hands to his chest, she tore her mouth from his and pushed him away.  Chest heaving, Scarlett stared up at him in surprise, gasping for air and full of questions.  Just as it had that morning, the force of her desire overwhelmed her.  So quickly had she been aroused that just that single stroke between her thighs had nearly been enough to send her over the edge.  Unfulfilled lust had left her irritable and ungracious all day.  More irritable than her aching muscles and fatigue might have managed on their own.

All through the morning, she had replayed their brief encounter over and over. Each time hating that she had enjoyed those moments with Laird.  And now she was feeling much the same again and after just one kiss!  It just wasn’t right.

For a moment, she thought he might try to kiss her again but then he turned toward the door.  He paused at the open portal, looking back.  “What did ye mean when ye said it could have been worse?”

“Huh?  What?” she asked, irritated to be fighting to regain her equilibrium when he looked so composed.

“Earlier, ye said yer name could hae been worse?”

“Oh, only that I might easily have been named Sparrow, Speck or Moon Inspektor.  You think I’m kidding?” she added when Laird raised a doubtful brow.  “Celebrities seem to think it’s their duty to outdo one another in eccentricity when naming their children.”

His eyes met hers thoughtfully for a long moment.  Scarlett could see the questions in his eyes but didn’t encourage him further, not knowing how much she could, or should say.

At last he nodded.  “I will hae clothing sent for ye.  Rest well, lass.  I will see ye in the morn.”

Scarlett nodded and bit her lip.  She shouldn’t ask. “Laird?”

“Aye?”  He paused, glancing over his shoulder but making no attempt to linger in her chamber.

“Why did you kiss me?”

He shrugged.  “My apologies, lass.  ‘Tis nothing more than a bad habit I hae when I hae a woman in her bedchamber.  I meant nothing by it.”

“Of course not,” Scarlett whispered into the silence as he left, closing the door softly as he withdrew.  Flopping on the bed, she grabbed a feather pillow and hugged it close to her chest.

She resisted the urge to pound it against the bed post until it snowed down upon the room.

Ugh.  It hadn’t been that good of a kiss.

12

 

The taste of her sweet kiss clung to his lips throughout the night, and James passed the hours tossing and turning, hard and aching, knowing Scarlett was right across the hall from