The Laird's Willful Lass (The Lairds Most Likely 1) - Page 58

She touched his cheek. More care for her, although a reckless corner of her soul wanted to forget propriety and tell him to take her now. “It will seem like forever.”

“I promised to honor your good name. Trust me.”

“I do,” she said, surprised that she spoke without a scrap of doubt. As a woman making her way in a man’s world, she’d learned to place her faith in few people. But Fergus was a man of honor. It was one of the qualities she most admired about him. That, and how he looked in a kilt.

“Thank you,” he said, as if he understood the concession she made. “Now kiss me again, and I’ll take you back inside.”

Her mouth turned down. “Bowing to public morality is going to become a nuisance.”

“The private pleasure will make it worthwhile.”

He gave her another quick kiss. The seeking touch of his lips was a promise of joy to come, but it left her restless and unsatisfied. Her blood pumped thick and hot, and as Fergus drew back, her arms felt agonizingly empty.

“You’ll arrange everything?”

His brief laugh was wry. “My sinful plans are already set in place.”

“You were so sure of me?”

“Not at all. I still can’t believe you said yes. Today ye were set to leave, and I wondered how I could endure it.”

She liked that he didn’t take her consent lightly. “You were right. I was afraid.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Marina. I swear it.” He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. Cursing the restrictions of propriety, she shivered in response. “We must go back.”

“Anyone who looks at me must know something extraordinary has happened. I feel like I’m about to burst into flame.”

“Oh, my dear…”

More dizzying kisses. This time, she pulled away. “We can’t stay.”

“No, we can’t.” Instead of shifting, he reached up to smooth her hair.

She forced herself to retreat a pace. The effort was painful. Cielo, so far he hadn’t ventured past kisses. How would she bring herself to say goodbye, once she’d given him her body?

“I’ll see you at dawn?”

“Yes.” Marina wondered how he’d manage their rendezvous. Or did he mean to take her on the bare hillside? Excitement rippled through her as she imagined how they’d join together wild and free, with the sky above them and only the birds to hear her cries of ecstasy.

“Stop looking at me like that, or I willnae be responsible for my actions,” he groaned.

“We must go in?”

His eyes burned through the dimness. “We must.”

He caught her up for one more kiss, then released her. She gave a shaky laugh. “Keep at least two feet between us.”

“Three.”

“I want you to myself.” There was an intoxicating freedom in saying all the things she’d never dared to voice before.

“Soon.”

“Yes, soon.” Which struck her as a beautiful word, although “now” would be lovelier.

For a charged instant, she hovered on the verge of flinging herself into his arms. Then a bird called from the trees and reminded her that she lived in the real world, not a radiant bubble of passion where nothing else mattered but her craving for this man.

Reluctant to leave him, but knowing she must, she turned and picked her way back along the bank to the castle. True to his word, Fergus remained a few paces behind her. They didn’t speak. He, like she, must know how close she was to yielding. One coaxing word, and she’d hurl her reputation to the wind.

Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical
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