She made a helpless gesture, as she struggled to express herself. “I assumed after the long pursuit, that you’d be…”
“Ah,” he said softly. “You thought I’d fall on ye like Macushla devours a bone.”
A half-horrified giggle escaped her. “Perhaps not the comparison I’d choose, but all the same, I imagined you’d be more…”
“Voracious?”
“Yes.”
“You were a virgin.”
“So you were being considerate?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never been one of those greedy laddies who gobbles his food and misses all the fine flavors for the sake of filling his belly. Ye were a delicious meal indeed, lassie. I wasnae going to rush a moment of feasting on you.” A sudden frown drew his auburn brows together. “Are you worried about how much I wanted you? If you are, I’ll never call ye an intelligent woman again.”
“No,” she said in a low voice. “I knew.”
Indeed she did. His every action during that leisurely seduction had blazed with fierce desire.
“Good,” he said shortly, before kissing her again. “Now let me look after you.”
Independent, headstrong Marina Lucchetti nodded and lay back on the disordered bed. Dio, was she losing her spirit, now she’d discovered a man’s touch?
Or was she learning a touch of humility at last and recognizing that sometimes there was no harm in relinquishing control to someone else?
Especially someone as competent as Fergus. She’d admired his graceful efficiency from the first, when he’d dragged her and Papa from the wrecked coach. Even when she wanted to give him a good shake, she credited him as an unusually capable man.
Now appreciation for his proficiency seeped through her, as she watched him fetch water and set it heating on the fire. He brought in the saddlebags and assembled an appetizing meal of bread with ham and cheese, cake and fruit on the gate-leg table in the corner near the hearth. She mightn’t require someone to look after her, but it was agreeable to watch a man work so diligently for her comfort.
He raised his head from where he bent over the fire. “You look like the wee kitten who got the cream, lassie.”
Marina smiled in unabashed delight. “Miaow.”
He laughed in appreciation and rose with a cup and saucer in one hand and a small crystal glass in the other. “Some tea for you—and a wee dram to mark the occa
sion.”
“Not that barbarous spirit?” She sat up and accepted the cup, while Fergus set the glass on the nightstand beside her.
Fascinating laughter lines deepened around his gray eyes. Her fingers itched to capture that expression on paper. But her portfolio was outside, tied to her pony’s saddle, and for once in her life, she had something better than art to think about.
“Aye. Try it. You might like it.”
“Papa has developed quite a taste for it. When we go back to Florence, he’ll find our Italian liqueurs sadly tame.”
For a chilling moment, the specter of the end of their affair hovered in the air. With an effort, she dismissed the unhappy prospect. She and Fergus looked forward to a few torrid weeks together. Why spoil today’s joy by stewing on inevitable farewells?
“I’ll give him a couple of bottles to take back with him,” Fergus said easily, and she realized he’d already come to terms with her only sharing his bed until she went home.
Why shouldn’t he? Her stay at Achnasheen was always going to be temporary, whether she gave herself to him or not. She had a career and a life in Italy. She couldn’t throw it all away to play the laird’s mistress until he tired of her.
Nonetheless, his easy acceptance of her eventual departure rankled a little.
“Thank you.” This time, it took more effort, but she forced herself back to the present, when she’d just experienced incandescent joy and the prospect of further joy awaited. “Did you bring the china and glassware up with you?”
“No.” He returned to collect his own glass. If he noted her brief disquiet, he didn’t show it. “I told you, the lodge is kept set up for hunting.”
“With only the finest.” Her teacup was delicate and painted with birds and flowers. She sipped, unsurprised that Fergus had made the perfect brew. Once upon a time, she’d wanted to mock his endless self-confidence. Experience since then had taught her that everything he did, he did well.