neck. “You’re like the sun here, too, blazing hot.” Meg gasped at the unexpected touch of his fingers on such an intimate place. “Shh, now,” he soothed, pressing his lips to the tender flesh of her neck. His voice had a hint of a chuckle, a rich, ripe masculine smugness, as he went on, “Yes, heat in plenty, and sweetly wet, as well.” He nipped at the cord of her neck as he stroked her.
She dug her hands into his arms, rocked by the sensations flooding her. Feeling his fingers upon her there wasshocking, yet no disgust or repulsion rose in her, only a need to have more. She wanted to move, to grind herself against him, to part her legs and bring him flush against her. Her breath came raggedly, and she had to bite her lip to hold back a moan. His mouth returned to hers; his hands came up to yank down the neck of the loose dress so that it hung down around her arms, and her breasts were bared to him. He cupped his hand around them, thumbs stroking across the soft flesh.
A whistle sounded in the distance, sharp and distinctive. Meg jerked back, staring at him in frozen horror. A moment later there was a shout, faint but plain: “Meg!”
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. “Coll!”
8
M eg jumped back as if she had been shot, hastily pulling her clothes back into order. Mardoun simply stood, staring at her dazedly. She darted to the window to peer out, retying her sash as she went.
“Coll?” Damon repeated. “What—who—” His brows rushed together. “Who the devil is Coll? The man I saw with you in the village?”
“What? No.” Meg turned back toward him, her voice a mixture of puzzlement and panic. “Get dressed. Quickly. He’ll be here any moment.”
“Who is Coll?” The heat was still in his voice, but from an entirely different source now. “Your lover?”
“What?” Meg gaped at him. “No! Get dressed, you fool!” She ran to the bed and grabbed up a blanket.
“Is that why you refused me the other day?” He took a long stride toward her. “Because you already have a lover?”
“Oh, yes! Of course! That had to be the reason I turned down someone as magnificent as you. Because I belongedto another man.” She hurled the folded blanket at him. It would have hit him straight in the face if he had not reached up to grab it. “I don’t have a lover, and I turned down your ‘gracious’ offer to bed me because I did not want you!”
His eyebrows shot up. “I believe we just answered the question of whether you want me.” He gestured toward the spot in front of the fire where they had just stood. Jamming the blanket beneath his arm, he strode to the window, buttoning his shirt. “What in the—” He swung back to her, his dark eyes hard as slate now. “That’s not the man you were with in the village!” He started toward her. “How many men do you have dangling on a string?”
Meg planted her fists on her hips. “A hundred! A thousand! I cannot count the number!”
Before Damon could answer, the door swung open, and Coll stepped in, carrying a brace of pheasants in one hand. “Meg, what are you shout—” Coll halted abruptly, his mouth dropping open. His gaze went from Mardoun to Meg, then back to the man standing in Meg’s house, jacketless, shoeless, and damp. Coll dropped the birds and started forward, his hands bunching into fists. “Who the devil are you? What are you doing here?”
Unsurprisingly, the earl did not answer Coll’s questions, but merely assumed as haughty and disdainful an expression as Meg had ever seen. Mardoun shifted subtly into a wider stance, his hands curling into fists as Coll’s had done. “I might ask you the same question—but it’s obvious what you are about.” Mardoun nodded toward the birds Coll had dropped on the floor. “Poaching my game.”
His words checked Coll for an instant as his eyes widenedin understanding. “You’re the bloody earl!” Fury flooded his face. “It’s not your game. And neither is Meg!”
Coll
She dug her hands into his arms, rocked by the sensations flooding her. Feeling his fingers upon her there wasshocking, yet no disgust or repulsion rose in her, only a need to have more. She wanted to move, to grind herself against him, to part her legs and bring him flush against her. Her breath came raggedly, and she had to bite her lip to hold back a moan. His mouth returned to hers; his hands came up to yank down the neck of the loose dress so that it hung down around her arms, and her breasts were bared to him. He cupped his hand around them, thumbs stroking across the soft flesh.
A whistle sounded in the distance, sharp and distinctive. Meg jerked back, staring at him in frozen horror. A moment later there was a shout, faint but plain: “Meg!”
“Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. “Coll!”
8
M eg jumped back as if she had been shot, hastily pulling her clothes back into order. Mardoun simply stood, staring at her dazedly. She darted to the window to peer out, retying her sash as she went.
“Coll?” Damon repeated. “What—who—” His brows rushed together. “Who the devil is Coll? The man I saw with you in the village?”
“What? No.” Meg turned back toward him, her voice a mixture of puzzlement and panic. “Get dressed. Quickly. He’ll be here any moment.”
“Who is Coll?” The heat was still in his voice, but from an entirely different source now. “Your lover?”
“What?” Meg gaped at him. “No! Get dressed, you fool!” She ran to the bed and grabbed up a blanket.
“Is that why you refused me the other day?” He took a long stride toward her. “Because you already have a lover?”
“Oh, yes! Of course! That had to be the reason I turned down someone as magnificent as you. Because I belongedto another man.” She hurled the folded blanket at him. It would have hit him straight in the face if he had not reached up to grab it. “I don’t have a lover, and I turned down your ‘gracious’ offer to bed me because I did not want you!”
His eyebrows shot up. “I believe we just answered the question of whether you want me.” He gestured toward the spot in front of the fire where they had just stood. Jamming the blanket beneath his arm, he strode to the window, buttoning his shirt. “What in the—” He swung back to her, his dark eyes hard as slate now. “That’s not the man you were with in the village!” He started toward her. “How many men do you have dangling on a string?”
Meg planted her fists on her hips. “A hundred! A thousand! I cannot count the number!”
Before Damon could answer, the door swung open, and Coll stepped in, carrying a brace of pheasants in one hand. “Meg, what are you shout—” Coll halted abruptly, his mouth dropping open. His gaze went from Mardoun to Meg, then back to the man standing in Meg’s house, jacketless, shoeless, and damp. Coll dropped the birds and started forward, his hands bunching into fists. “Who the devil are you? What are you doing here?”
Unsurprisingly, the earl did not answer Coll’s questions, but merely assumed as haughty and disdainful an expression as Meg had ever seen. Mardoun shifted subtly into a wider stance, his hands curling into fists as Coll’s had done. “I might ask you the same question—but it’s obvious what you are about.” Mardoun nodded toward the birds Coll had dropped on the floor. “Poaching my game.”
His words checked Coll for an instant as his eyes widenedin understanding. “You’re the bloody earl!” Fury flooded his face. “It’s not your game. And neither is Meg!”
Coll
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