Alasdair. The strength of his hand locked around her knees sent unwelcome shivers all through her.
But he was evidently not interested in any thoughts Morgan had on the matter.
He ranted, waving his free hand as he stomped down the street. “And what manner of advisors have you by your side that they would be so quick to leave you unattended when such danger lurks at every turn?”
“They are not my advisors! Now, put me down.”
Alasdair growled on as though Morgan hadn’t said anything at all. “You may be assured, my lady, that they were not the first to be interested in your bonny curves. Had I not been busy with the last, these would never have gotten so close.”
He muttered an expletive that made even more people turn to look, and his voice dropped lower. “Aye, were you a woman of mine, I would be having fine words for your lack of interest in your own safe keeping...”
“But I’m not a woman of yours,” Morgan retorted. “So please put me down.”
Alasdair stopped suddenly, and Morgan braced herself for trouble. She couldn’t help but wonder why he had heard that one comment.
“Aye,” he acknowledged in a dangerously soft tone. “That you are not.”
His hands were suddenly on her hips, moving with the sure touch of a caress. The heat of his palms launched a tingle over her flesh that Morgan would have preferred to have been without.
Then those hands lifted her high. Morgan’s mouth went dry as Alasdair let her slide slowly down the length of him until they stood toe to toe. His hand still rested proprietarily on her waist and his gaze blazed into hers. She barely dared to breathe as she stared up at her self-appointed protector and felt his thumbs tracing little circles on her back.
Morgan was fully aware of his erection. If she’d had any doubt of what she’d felt, she had none now. His hardness pressed against her stomach as though there wasn’t all this clothing between them.
And the glint in Alasdair’s eyes was unabashedly sensual.
Nothing else could have fired her blood like the evidence of Alasdair’s arousal. Matt’s continued pursuit of other women – and his avoidance of intimacy with his wife – had left a deep scar in Morgan’s belief in her own attractiveness.
To have this aggressively masculine man desire her was a siren’s call Morgan couldn’t ignore.
But Alasdair was waiting. And when Morgan looked deeply into his eyes, she understood why.
He was waiting for her to decide how to proceed. Morgan knew not only that Alasdair wanted her but that she could push him away with one fingertip.
And if she did, he would go.
Just having the choice made Morgan want to choose otherwise. She eyed his firm lips and wondered...
It had to be the glass of wine she’d had with dinner.
Or maybe it was the adrenaline rush of barely escaping a mugging.
But the truth was that Morgan didn’t care. She wanted to kiss Alasdair, just once, just a little kiss, just because she had the choice.
Maybe not such a little kiss.
Right here, right now, she had the perfect excuse.
Alasdair’s grip tightened ever so slightly on Morgan’s waist. “You are not going to be so foolish as to run off again, are you?” he demanded, his fair brows bristling. “You may be sure that I shall see you safely to your abode.”
Morgan could smell Alasdair’s scent, and her toes curled inside her mutilated shoes.
“No.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. She was vaguely aware of catcalls and whistles around them, but couldn’t have cared less about anything beyond this man.
Alasdair arched a brow. “Promise?”
The “r” rumbled in his chest, the vibration startling against Morgan’s breasts. She felt her nipples tighten as her imagination concocted what she could have expected if she had been Alasdair’s woman.
How would he kiss?
“Promise,” she agreed, breathless.
Alasdair smiled then and lifted one hand to gently touch her cheek. “Are you unharmed by those ruffians,
But he was evidently not interested in any thoughts Morgan had on the matter.
He ranted, waving his free hand as he stomped down the street. “And what manner of advisors have you by your side that they would be so quick to leave you unattended when such danger lurks at every turn?”
“They are not my advisors! Now, put me down.”
Alasdair growled on as though Morgan hadn’t said anything at all. “You may be assured, my lady, that they were not the first to be interested in your bonny curves. Had I not been busy with the last, these would never have gotten so close.”
He muttered an expletive that made even more people turn to look, and his voice dropped lower. “Aye, were you a woman of mine, I would be having fine words for your lack of interest in your own safe keeping...”
“But I’m not a woman of yours,” Morgan retorted. “So please put me down.”
Alasdair stopped suddenly, and Morgan braced herself for trouble. She couldn’t help but wonder why he had heard that one comment.
“Aye,” he acknowledged in a dangerously soft tone. “That you are not.”
His hands were suddenly on her hips, moving with the sure touch of a caress. The heat of his palms launched a tingle over her flesh that Morgan would have preferred to have been without.
Then those hands lifted her high. Morgan’s mouth went dry as Alasdair let her slide slowly down the length of him until they stood toe to toe. His hand still rested proprietarily on her waist and his gaze blazed into hers. She barely dared to breathe as she stared up at her self-appointed protector and felt his thumbs tracing little circles on her back.
Morgan was fully aware of his erection. If she’d had any doubt of what she’d felt, she had none now. His hardness pressed against her stomach as though there wasn’t all this clothing between them.
And the glint in Alasdair’s eyes was unabashedly sensual.
Nothing else could have fired her blood like the evidence of Alasdair’s arousal. Matt’s continued pursuit of other women – and his avoidance of intimacy with his wife – had left a deep scar in Morgan’s belief in her own attractiveness.
To have this aggressively masculine man desire her was a siren’s call Morgan couldn’t ignore.
But Alasdair was waiting. And when Morgan looked deeply into his eyes, she understood why.
He was waiting for her to decide how to proceed. Morgan knew not only that Alasdair wanted her but that she could push him away with one fingertip.
And if she did, he would go.
Just having the choice made Morgan want to choose otherwise. She eyed his firm lips and wondered...
It had to be the glass of wine she’d had with dinner.
Or maybe it was the adrenaline rush of barely escaping a mugging.
But the truth was that Morgan didn’t care. She wanted to kiss Alasdair, just once, just a little kiss, just because she had the choice.
Maybe not such a little kiss.
Right here, right now, she had the perfect excuse.
Alasdair’s grip tightened ever so slightly on Morgan’s waist. “You are not going to be so foolish as to run off again, are you?” he demanded, his fair brows bristling. “You may be sure that I shall see you safely to your abode.”
Morgan could smell Alasdair’s scent, and her toes curled inside her mutilated shoes.
“No.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. She was vaguely aware of catcalls and whistles around them, but couldn’t have cared less about anything beyond this man.
Alasdair arched a brow. “Promise?”
The “r” rumbled in his chest, the vibration startling against Morgan’s breasts. She felt her nipples tighten as her imagination concocted what she could have expected if she had been Alasdair’s woman.
How would he kiss?
“Promise,” she agreed, breathless.
Alasdair smiled then and lifted one hand to gently touch her cheek. “Are you unharmed by those ruffians,
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