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

“Do you like me like this?”

“Aye, I do,” he admitted. “But I liked ye as ye always been. Yer more colorful side as well. Ye dinnae need tae play the minx wi’ me, lass. There is naught tae make me want ye more.”

“Nothing?” She slipped her hand beneath his kilt, running her palm up his thigh and around to cup his hard bare buttock.

“Perhaps a wee something.”

“Perhaps not so wee.”

She shifted her hand around to his front, cupping him until he was overflowing her palm. Keir hissed, sucking in a harsh breath.

“Och, lass, ye’ll unman me if ye dinnae cease.”

“That might be interesting, too.”

She wrapped her fingers around his hard length, running them up his throbbing staff, marveling at the length and breadth of him. Glorying in the way he threw back his head, tendons taut in his neck, muscular body strung like a bow.

With a shudder, he lifted her and dropped her onto the desk, tugging up her skirts with a frantic jerk. His fingers found her only long enough to make sure she was ready for him—which she was—before he drove deep inside her with a hoarse roar.

Wrapping her legs around him tightly, Al clung to him as he slammed into her over and over. Cried out as he found a hard, animalistic rhythm that pushed her too quickly over the top when she longed to savor the feel of him while she could.

Winding her hair around his hands, he forced her head back and ravished her mouth with hot kisses.

Pleasure spiraled, radiating down her limbs as spasms of euphoria racked her body. With one final thrust, he came too. Collapsing weakly over her as the passion and ire that had gripped him ebbed. He kissed her neck, rubbing his sweaty forehead on her cheek.

“Och, lass, I dinnae ken what came o’er me. ‘Twas the grip of uncontrollable lust. I’m sorry for attacking ye like a beast.”

She raked her fingers through his thick hair with an inward smile. She didn’t mind at all. All the flattery in the world was nothing compared to a man who simply had to have you. She felt utterly desirable, cherished.

Wanted.

There were too few moments in her life when she’d felt that way. Another fantasy ticked off her list by Keir MacCoinnach.

“I didn’t mind,” was all she admitted aloud. “But it wasn’t anything like what you had elaborated on. So shame on you. To get a girl’s hopes up like that…”

He lifted his head and grinned down at her. “Then my apologies are for disappointing ye so. I’ll endeavor tae do better in the future.”

The future.

She couldn’t help but wonder what sort of timeline he attached to such an indeterminate word.

Chapter 25

She wandered the halls of Rosebraugh the next afternoon. If she’d paused to look into one of the many gilt-framed mirrors she passed, she’d probably see a secret smile gracing her lips. But her focus was turned inward. Not out. Not on the veritable museum she was walking through, the gorgeous paintings by Huet, Rembrandt, Chardin. Nor the sculptures by Bernini and Puget.

Rosebraugh was a wonderland of art and history, yet her mind was entirely Keir’s. They’d whiled away an entire day in each other’s arms, scaling the peaks of carnal passion again and again. Reaching so high, they’d caught more than one glimpse of pure paradise. She’d slept in his arms, their bodies entwined. Woken this morning to his gentle kisses and his languid exploration of her body.

Reality was trumping fantasy again and again. A few days more and she’d have enough memories to last a lifetime. Memories to warm her through cold nights and long years alone.

Being alone wouldn’t bother her much. She’d been alone most of her life. Life here would be no different in many ways. She didn’t weep for the one she’d left behind. And at least here, her mother couldn’t call her just to find some new way to humiliate her.

Solitude was far removed from loneliness though.

She would miss Keir. Knowing he was nearby, yet out of her reach would be painful. She loved being by his side, being close…

“Ah, good afternoon, Miss Maines.”

Al shut her eyes with a low groan. Perhaps, she loved being close to Keir because it seemed whenever she was away from him, things like this happened!

Turning, she smiled tightly at the man walking down the hall toward her. “Artair. I thought you were at Dingwall preparing for Frang’s funeral. What brings you to Rosebraugh?”

“I thought I might come and get a head start on the preparations for Hugh’s service while we awaited news on Father,” he said, clasping his hands behind him as was his norm.

Rocking on his heels in that dreaded fashion that heralded the beginning of another long-winded lecture.

Why had she urged Keir to ride out to visit his tenants today? Oh, she knew there was much he needed to do for Rosebraugh but if she’d only lured him back to his bedroom, she wouldn’t be an easy target in an open hallway now.

“Ye’re looking rather fetching today,” he added. “Ye look lovely in the MacCoinnach tartan.”

Running her hands down the gown crafted of tartan and ivory linen she loved so much, she nodded. And since Keir had pointed out how rude it was to dispute the opinion of others on that topic, she offered her thanks for the compliment, if a little awkwardly.

He smiled, the severity of his features relaxing enough to bring to mind his handsome brother. There was a definite family resemblance.

“What has ye wandering the halls today?”

“Oh, I was just admiring the artwork,” she said. “I never realized that Hugh and Keir had acquired so many pieces of—”

“In truth, Miss Maines, I didn’t come tae Rosebraugh only to see tae the arrangements,” he burst out. “I’ve had it in my mind these last days tae seek a time in private wi’ ye tae make my addresses tae ye. I can tell my inclination tae come ahead