Including use a woman.
She gave a voluptuous shiver, as incendiary memories of the morning’s encounter rippled through her. If she had to fall, at least she’d chosen a man who knew how to catch her. Despite her inexperience, she recognized he was a lover in a thousand.
“Will ye no’ drink a toast with me to an enterprise well begun, lassie?”
She set the teacup down on the nightstand and lifted the small, heavy glass filled with golden liquid. “I drink to the man who has shown me a new world. Salute!”
His eyes warmed. “I’ll drink to the loveliest lass in the Highlands. Here’s to your bonny black eyes, Marina Lucchetti. Slàinte mhath!”
She reached forward to clink her glass against his, and noticed the way his gaze dropped to the gaping neck of her shirt. She hadn’t got far with the buttons. “You’re not looking at my eyes, Mackinnon.”
Another half-smile. “Aye, that’s true. It’s not only your eyes that are bonny, mo chridhe.”
Through her gratification, she frowned in puzzlement. “What’s that you call me?”
“Mo chridhe?”
“Mow cree?”
He chuckled at her hesitant pronunciation. “Something like that. It means ‘my heart’ or ‘my darling.’”
“You’ve called me your darling before. When you saved me from the cliff edge and last night by the loch.”
“Aye, I have.” He sent her a searching look. “Don’t ye like it?”
“Of course I like it,” she admitted. Like it? She loved it. The endearment transformed her heart into a great sugary puddle. “You know I do. You have a sweet tongue, Mackinnon.”
“Let me prove it, my bonny lass.” He leaned forward and kissed her with a thoroughness that left her breathless. On his lips, the local liquor was almost as delicious as his words.
When he raised his head, his eyes were dark. Feeling bold, she caught his free hand and slid it under her shirt and against her breast.
His hand was warm, and the slight calluses abraded her skin with delightful friction. The merest brush of his fingers set her head swimming. She shivered again as her nipple hardened against his palm. A heavy, eager weight settled between her legs, where a pleasant ache lingered from his possession.
“Marina…” He spoke her name with such longing that she trembled.
When he squeezed her breast, her powerful reaction made her wriggle against the rumpled sheets. With each shift, she was breathtakingly conscious that her body had changed. She ached in places she hadn’t known existed before today.
She lifted the glass to her lips. “Drink up, Mackinnon.”
The liquor tasted strange on her tongue, but as it slipped down her throat, it warmed her on the inside the way his touch warmed her on the outside. The rich aftertaste almost convinced her she might come to enjoy the flavor. In about a hundred years.
Fergus surveyed her with a glowing admiration as restorative as any spirits, then swallowed his drink in a single mouthful. He set the glass on the nightstand.
“I didn’t know desire could be like this.” She blushed. “I think I’ll like being your mistress.”
“I’ll do my best to make you happy, lassie.” He scratched a nail across her beaded nipple, feeding her restiveness. “I ken what a gift you’ve given me.”
When he said things like that, she couldn’t resist him. “Oh, Fergus,” she sighed, leaning forward for a kiss.
The kiss lasted far too short a time. He lifted his head and sent her a mocking glance. “Drink your whisky. It’s bad luck to leave any in the glass. Then I’ll pour ye some warm water for a wash, and we can have breakfast. You’ll need your strength for what I’m planning.”
Marina swallowed her whisky, surprised that the taste already became more palatable. “Curse your control and your common sense, Mackinnon,” she muttered.
He gave a brief grunt of amusement. “You know ye dinna want a laddie who gives no thought for your comfort and seeks only his own satisfaction.”
She sighed, although his consideration made her heart cramp. “You’re still the laird, even now.”
“Aye, always. And you’re still the reckless signorina setting her will against mine.” He spoke with no particular animus, so it was difficult to summon much pique.