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

skin, cooling away the uncomfortable warmth caused by the closed carriage and the more enjoyable warmth he had infused her with. She lifted her face to it with a sigh of relief and wished she might lift her skirts high for a better all-over effect. Instead, she studied around her surroundings.

They were in a bustling, small town, she saw. Or a village, anyway. People filled streets lined with short buildings, most not more than two stories. More were walking on the streets rather than any sidewalks. Some more leisurely, others carrying packages, some looked far to heavy to lift. Others pushed handcarts full of vegetables or other goods.

There were a number of armed, redcoated soldiers walking the streets as well. “What are they doing here?”

“Cumberland has troops and militia patrolling all o’er these parts. Guarding passes tae the north, warships guarding the coasts,” he told her grimly. “Despite the defeat at Culloden, as ye call it, the rebellion was closer tae success than the king e’er imagined. He’ll nae risk it happening again.”

Al eyed the street, taking it all in. Real 18th century life. It took her a minute to realize what was missing. “Everyone’s walking.”

He glanced around over her head. “Aye, how else do ye expect them to get aboot?”

“I don’t know. I guess I always thought there’d be lots of horses and wagons.”

He looked down at her with that gleam in his eye telling her he was anxious to hear more. “Livestock is expensive tae keep. But e’en those who hae a horse or cart wouldnae use them aboot town.”

“Why not?”

“’Twould take more time tae fetch the horse from pasture or from the livery and see it harnessed or saddled than the effort to walk,” he said. “I take it that isnae the case where ye’re from?”

She could see the conversation on travel methods that had been put aside in favor of a thorough round of kissing hadn’t been forgotten.

“I’ve a private dining room reserved for us inside. We can talk more there.” He pointed to an inn marked by the curious signage Pig and Whistle. “I’ve a room as well.”

“A room?” she asked, casting him a saucy smile as he took her hand and led the way. “What for? Something rakish, I presume?”

She couldn’t believe she was being so forward. This wasn’t the light flirtation they’d been toying with all week. He’d driven her to the very fringe of release. She was eager to see what came next.

He only grinned down at her, squeezing her hand. “I would ne’er presume so much.”

What? She was practically propositioning him. For a rake, he was slow on the uptake. He’d better catch on soon or she’d lose her nerve.

“You could share it with me, if you wanted to.”

Licking her lips nervously, she watched as his gaze darkened. He knew full well what she saying. Offering.

He shook his head slowly. “Much tae my regret, lass, we hae nae the time tae employ it in any other way, nae matter how titillating the possibility. Nay, the room is for ye tae attend tae yer personal needs.”

“What? Oh.” The subject thoroughly changed, Al flushed and glanced away.

“Yer mortification o’er the most basic bodily needs is intriguing. I shall add it tae my list and perhaps one day ye shall explain tae me why ‘tis so.”

“Ha, I doubt it,” she huffed.

With a grin, Keir opened the door and waved her inside. It was quieter here, dark just as she imagined a Scottish pub might be. Warm also, though windows had been opened to allow for some air flow. What she wouldn’t give for an A/C.

After a word with the innkeeper, who’d rushed forward to greet them, he waved her off with a maid. She led Al up a narrow flight of stairs and into a private room. A few minutes later, another maid arrived with a pitcher of warm water and offered her assistance in undressing. Curious as to why she might need to undress to see to her ‘needs,’ she found she was being given the chance for a quick sponge bath to wash away the grime of travel.

As hot as she still was, she agreed, even accepting the maid’s help without one modest blush so she might keep Keir from waiting too long.

Keir.

She shivered, not from the water trickling across her arms but from the memory of his kiss fresh in her mind and on her lips. He played her like a fiddle suddenly strung taught after being out of tune for too many years.

Adrift in his strong embrace, she would have been his most willing instrument. Her body ached to sing for him.

There was no doubt in her mind that he knew it well. Therefore, it surprised her that he’d tried nothing more, but merely carried on hungrily kissing her as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her.

She supposed she was fine with that. For now. His kiss was pure delight. If the rest of it were to exceed her wildest dreams as well, she had much to look forward to.

Refreshed, redressed, and almost skipping in anticipation, she found Keir in a private dining room. His back was to her as he sipped wine and read from a folded sheaf of paper. Peeking over his shoulder, she saw that it was a newspaper though it lacked commanding headlines or colorful pictures.

“What are you reading?” she bent to whisper in his ear.

He didn’t jump but turned his head to kiss her lightly. “My thoughts are so focused on ye, I couldnae read a word.”

He folded up the paper, tossing it aside, and stood to hold out a chair for her. His finger trailed down her nape when he pushed her in before returning to his own seat. The table was filled already with plates of bread, cheese, and meat pies so aromatic her stomach was quick to remind her of her paltry breakfast hours past.

“What were you thinking about?” she prompted, serving herself from the platters. Keir poured her