might be ready for this, but she wasn’t. He knew her reaction to their kiss had scared her. Hell, it had scared him.
“Please…,” she whispered, her voice raw.
He could take that soft plea either way…please yes or please no.
God’s blood, she was the devil of temptation.
He dropped his hand and stepped away, knowing he had to stop. His body hammered with need, but he didn’t want to frighten her. She was a damn virgin. And what he wanted to do with her right now would put a blush on a hardened harlot.
Lachlan was a man of prodigious appetites, and he believed in holding nothing back. When they came together, it would be hot and hard and raw. There was not a part of her that he would leave uncovered or unexplored. Patience in matters of lust was not something he was used to. Soon.
Shifting his gaze, he motioned to the box. “I brought you something for this evening. We do not have much occasion for such finery at Drimnin. But it is yours; I thought you should have it.”
Flora glanced at the box beside the bed. She momentarily forgot her embarrassment, and her eyes lit up. “My gown!” She turned back to him with confusion in her gaze. “But how?”
He shrugged. “I suspected what it was and thought you might have need of it.”
She studied him keenly, as if he’d unwittingly revealed something. “That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
“I’ll send Morag up to help you. But do not dally,” he said gruffly, uncomfortable with what he saw in her eyes. It suddenly felt as if he were the one naked.
He turned and strode to the door, not trusting himself to look at her again. If he did, he didn’t know if he’d be able to leave. Flora MacLeod’s virginity hung by a very thin thread. He had more reasons than ever to hasten the wedding. Sooner or later, she would be his. But any more run-ins like this one, and it would be sooner.
Where was she?
Lachlan took a long drink of cuirm, his gaze fixed on the entry. From his seat at the high table—though there was nothing as formal as a dais—he could keep his eyes fixed on the door opposite him and still have a good view of the rest of the festivities. The room was crammed full, every available seat filled with his clansmen clad in their colorful plaids. The entire castle—depleted though it was by the absence of so many of his people who remained trapped on Coll—had gathered tonight for the first feast in a very long time. Since well before his brother had been imprisoned, he realized. The pipers were piping, the ale was flowing, the hall was blazing with candles. But they were still waiting.
He’d left her room almost an hour ago, and despite his warning, she’d yet to appear. He wouldn’t put it past her to tarry just to spite him.
God’s blood, the woman was proving an unexpected challenge. In more ways than one. He’d expected a spoiled, headstrong girl and discovered instead a complex woman unlike any he’d ever met. Confident, determined, and strong, yet also oddly vulnerable. One whose kiss roused strange feelings in him and whose body…He took another swig, trying to dull the vivid picture that sprang to mind. Of legs that went on forever, a bottom made for cupping, and breasts sculpted for a man’s fantasies. He tried to thrust the image away, but he knew the sight of her sumptuous form wrapped in transparent linen would be imprinted on his consciousness for a long time.
He dreaded sleep. The long, dark hours stretched out endlessly before him, with nothing for relief but his hand to combat the taunting erotic images of her naked above him, those lush breasts bouncing with the frantic rhythm of their lovemaking as she rode him hard. He got tight and heavy just thinking about it.
Damn, he needed a woman. He was tempted to seek out his leman tonight after all. Seonaid sat across the room, staring at him with reproachful hurt in her gaze. He owed her an explanation, at least. And perhaps more.
He was wound so tight, he
“Please…,” she whispered, her voice raw.
He could take that soft plea either way…please yes or please no.
God’s blood, she was the devil of temptation.
He dropped his hand and stepped away, knowing he had to stop. His body hammered with need, but he didn’t want to frighten her. She was a damn virgin. And what he wanted to do with her right now would put a blush on a hardened harlot.
Lachlan was a man of prodigious appetites, and he believed in holding nothing back. When they came together, it would be hot and hard and raw. There was not a part of her that he would leave uncovered or unexplored. Patience in matters of lust was not something he was used to. Soon.
Shifting his gaze, he motioned to the box. “I brought you something for this evening. We do not have much occasion for such finery at Drimnin. But it is yours; I thought you should have it.”
Flora glanced at the box beside the bed. She momentarily forgot her embarrassment, and her eyes lit up. “My gown!” She turned back to him with confusion in her gaze. “But how?”
He shrugged. “I suspected what it was and thought you might have need of it.”
She studied him keenly, as if he’d unwittingly revealed something. “That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
“I’ll send Morag up to help you. But do not dally,” he said gruffly, uncomfortable with what he saw in her eyes. It suddenly felt as if he were the one naked.
He turned and strode to the door, not trusting himself to look at her again. If he did, he didn’t know if he’d be able to leave. Flora MacLeod’s virginity hung by a very thin thread. He had more reasons than ever to hasten the wedding. Sooner or later, she would be his. But any more run-ins like this one, and it would be sooner.
Where was she?
Lachlan took a long drink of cuirm, his gaze fixed on the entry. From his seat at the high table—though there was nothing as formal as a dais—he could keep his eyes fixed on the door opposite him and still have a good view of the rest of the festivities. The room was crammed full, every available seat filled with his clansmen clad in their colorful plaids. The entire castle—depleted though it was by the absence of so many of his people who remained trapped on Coll—had gathered tonight for the first feast in a very long time. Since well before his brother had been imprisoned, he realized. The pipers were piping, the ale was flowing, the hall was blazing with candles. But they were still waiting.
He’d left her room almost an hour ago, and despite his warning, she’d yet to appear. He wouldn’t put it past her to tarry just to spite him.
God’s blood, the woman was proving an unexpected challenge. In more ways than one. He’d expected a spoiled, headstrong girl and discovered instead a complex woman unlike any he’d ever met. Confident, determined, and strong, yet also oddly vulnerable. One whose kiss roused strange feelings in him and whose body…He took another swig, trying to dull the vivid picture that sprang to mind. Of legs that went on forever, a bottom made for cupping, and breasts sculpted for a man’s fantasies. He tried to thrust the image away, but he knew the sight of her sumptuous form wrapped in transparent linen would be imprinted on his consciousness for a long time.
He dreaded sleep. The long, dark hours stretched out endlessly before him, with nothing for relief but his hand to combat the taunting erotic images of her naked above him, those lush breasts bouncing with the frantic rhythm of their lovemaking as she rode him hard. He got tight and heavy just thinking about it.
Damn, he needed a woman. He was tempted to seek out his leman tonight after all. Seonaid sat across the room, staring at him with reproachful hurt in her gaze. He owed her an explanation, at least. And perhaps more.
He was wound so tight, he
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