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

Waiting.

He hadn’t been thinking about what awaited him once he got Al to her room. Nay, all he could think of was unburdening himself of the warm, curvy body in his arms before he did something he’d regret.

Like take advantage of a tipsy, tired, and traumatized lass. What kind of animal would he be?

The rakish sort.

Och, he was such a fool. He should have never picked her up. The feel of her body so small and fragile in his arms should have evoked nothing more than the caring and concern that flooded him after Maeve’s maniacal attack. Instead, he’d felt every curve of her voluptuous form, from the swell of her breasts against his chest to her rounded hip rubbing dangerously close to his aching groin.

Rousing the passions he fought so hard to temper all week. But it wasn’t only his body she roused. Holding her in his arms in the library earlier, it hadn’t been mere desire but so much more. On his return from Inverness, he’d been able to think of nothing more than seeking her out.

Wearied by an emotional day, by the horrors of what he’d seen, he found relief in having her small body tucked close to him. It’d been an unusual moment for him. He’d felt a deep sense of perfection standing there. By rights, it should have alarmed him. But it had comforted him. Just as she had.

That was not to say he hadn’t been aroused as well. Her arms laced around his neck, her breasts pressed against him, her hands caressing… it had been incredibly tempting.

Her lips were mere inches away, but still she hadn’t taken the kiss.

Let her prove him a rake then. If she didn’t soon act on the lust he knew full well simmered in her just as it did in him, Keir was going to take the choice from her and ravish her like the beast he was fast becoming.

But not now.

Now, though the lust that should have been there earlier raged through his body, he couldn’t satisfy it. Not when she was injured, hurting because of the actions of one of his own. Not when she was made vulnerable by exhaustion and whiskey.

It would be another cold bath for him this day.

Just as soon as he set her on her feet. But while her legs fell when he slipped his arm from beneath her knees, Al clung to his shoulders. She just peered up at him with those dewy gray eyes. Those tempting pink lips parted. Begging.

But waiting.

Ever waiting.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me, Keir?” she dared ask. “You said you were going to woo me with words and kisses.”

“I dinnae recall,” he bit out.

Grabbing her hands, he tugged them off his shoulders and stepped away before he caved to his body’s persistent calling and showed her how thoroughly he longed to kiss her. She swayed on her feet and reached for him again.

Blast, of all the nights to fill a glass of whiskey to the brim! When he kissed her at last, he at least wanted her sensate enough to recall it as vividly as he would, not dulled by an alcoholic haze. And when he took her to that bed and made love to her at last, there’d be no bloody risk of her falling asleep halfway through it.

“I’ll call Peigi for ye, lass,” he said through clenched teeth, desperate to leave before his desperate longing overrode his sense of chivalry. “Get some sleep.”

“You’re a confusing man, Keir MacCoinnach,” she said as he turned and walked out the door.

Nay, he was a bloody saint.

Chapter 19

The carriage jerked into motion, sending Maeve and Oran on their way.

Al watched from a window in the hallway on the second floor, having no desire to be within a book’s length or knife’s throw of the sad woman. Even though Keir stood on the front steps of the castle watching the carriage rumble down the lane.

She wanted to talk to him. Try to figure out what was holding him back for something surely was. Not that she’d dare to ask directly. No matter how bold he thought she was, she wasn’t courageous enough for that. Maybe she could prepare some leading questions or related topic to segue into the subject.

Yes, she laughed inwardly. And simply hope he volunteered the information she was looking for on his own. She might be ignorant of most male ways, but she wasn’t stupid.

He wanted her. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but he had stated his intention to woo her. She hadn’t misinterpreted the unspoken addendum ‘into his bed,’ had she? No, there was ample, and she did mean ample, evidence that he wanted her on a purely physical level if nothing else.

She didn’t think she could have been any more clear that his wooing had paid off. She was available and ready to become his lover. So what was the problem?

What more indication did a rake need?

Unless she had been nothing more than a scientific case study all along.

A week ago, the thought would have cowed her into full retreat. She would have assumed the worst, slunk away, and licked her wounds. But Keir had sparked something in her as the days passed. A willingness to face confrontation without fear, to say what she wanted without worry of rejection or reprisal. To fight for something she wanted.

And she wanted him.

All of him.

And she was pretty damn certain he wanted her too, even if it was only for that one quick fuck.

“Congratulations, Miss Maines.”

Al jumped at Ceana’s murmured words so close to her ear. She hadn’t even heard her come up behind her.

Turning on her heel, she found Ceana smiling at her ever so slyly in that way she had. Once again, she was dressed as if she expected to be called to court. Heavy satins, profuse quantities of lace. Those expansive panniers. Today her towering hair was even powdered and she wore a