White was the rose in his gay bonnet,
As he faulded me in his broached plaidie…
“Carlisle Yetts,” Jacobite Reliques
Enough was enough, Iain thought, as he stalked toward his wife. Aye, he’d known the second she’d appeared behind him as he bathed. He always knew when she neared. Somehow the air sharpened and…touched him, a featherlight weight, as if his skin prickled at her nearness, eager to have her closer, to have her skin touching his. To close the distance.
It was the most maddening thing.
Always, he answered that call—got closer to her—but stopped short of touching her as he ached to. Except for the stolen moments he’d taken full advantage of in the last few days.
But as he’d stood there, his back to her, holding the sponge and again flexing and showing off for her like the daft fool he was, he found he’d grown…what? Angry?
Was that what now galloped through him, making his blood pound? Anger? Frustration? Or some kind of premonition, some kind of fae sense telling him they’d soon find her sister.
And Traci would be gone.
Gone from his life forever, in some future world he couldn’t even begin to understand.
But when he’d turned, caught her jealous gaze, and seen her quickly cloak herself with cool indifference? His emotion, and its cause, clarified. Anger.
Anger at her denial of her feelings for him.
Anger at himself for not being enough to push her past her mask.
Anger that he had not the time or skill to woo her properly.
But anger switched to determination.
Now he stalked toward her, his blood singing in his veins. His cock hardened further at the naked lust visible in her eyes before she quickly veiled it.
He didn’t stop until he was a scarce inch from her body. He looked down at her. He wasn’t trying to intimidate her. Nay, he was doing his damnedest not to shove her against the stables, lift her skirts, and plunge into her. If he lifted his hands and touched her… Well, he didn’t trust himself.
Their breaths filled the charged space between them. She straightened to her full height, which brought her to that perfect distance below him, her mouth inches away, spannable by a mere duck of his head.
“You know what I think?” he asked, his voice surprisingly husky. Damn, what this woman did to him.
She swallowed. “What do you think?” she whispered, her voice shaky.
He forced himself to flash his woo-the-lassies smile while inside his heart pounded, pounded. He bent forward until he was right by the delicate shell of her ear, the dark red wispy strands of her hair tickling his nose as they curled around her ear. He inhaled her scent, now mixed with the heat of the sun on her skin, and felt himself harden impossibly further. “I think you want me.”
He’d swear she trembled for a lovely wee moment. “You do, do you?”
“Aye. Surely you know I’m gone for you. It’s making both of us addle-pated.”
“It is?”
“Aye. Even now, you’re repeating my words like a parrot.”
She snapped out of whatever spell she’d been under and placed her hand on his bare, wet chest, as if to shove him from her. She quickly removed it, as if he’d seared her, and ineffectually moved her hand around the area between them, as if seeking a safe surface to shove him away from. She gave up, stepped back, propped her hands on her hips, and looked him in the eye.
“Don’t you be working your wiles on me.”
He smiled. “My wiles?”
“Yes. You and your brogue, and your…your muscles…”
“And my kilt?”
Now she did shove against his shoulder, and he grinned, some of his anger, his worry, his frustration ebbing away at their familiar banter. Leaving only determination.
“Yes, you and your stupid manly muscles in that kilt. Happy?”
He glanced down at the tent in said kilt. “Aye.” He looked back up and winked at her.
“Oh my God, you’re impossible.”
“I like to think so.” He stepped forward.
“Wait. Hold up, big boy. I need to tell you something.”
That fae premonition returned, trickling down his spine, and suddenly he didn’t want to hear what she had to tell him, because he knew what it was—she had found her sister, and she’d be gone soon.
“What do you need to tell me? You’ve already confessed you find me… What was it? Ah, yes. Hot. In my kilt.” He threw another grin at her, but even he could feel the desperation in it.
“Can you not have a serious conversation?”
“Not where you’re concerned.” He slipped his hands up her arms and cupped her shoulders, and again she trembled slightly. “My brain, as I’ve said, is addled. We’re both edgy. But I’ll tell you what little my wee brain has been able to figure out.” He brushed his hands up the delicate column of her throat until his thumbs framed her face, his fingers cupping her jaw.
“What’s that?”
“We need to give into this attraction we feel toward one another.”
Her breath gave an endearing hitch. “Oh yeah, why is that?”
“We’re edgy. Unable to think clearly. We need to give in for the good of the mission.”
She smirked. “The good of the mission, is it? You’d be willing to make that sacrifice, huh?”
“Oh, aye. For your sister, I think it’s important we’re able to face this with a clear head.”
“And you think…” She stepped forward until her hips bumped into his, and his hard cock juuusst barely nudged against her belly. The barest whisper of pressure against it, and his lust ratcheted up another notch. “You think if we indulged—if we had wild monkey sex—it would help us find my sister faster?”
“Aye. I don’t know how monkeys do it, but the wild part sure sounds enticing.”
“And you’re willing to make this sacrifice. For me?” She pushed her hips closer and eased away, the tease.
He grinned, but it was a desperate grin for he wished to not be silly. What he felt was nothing close to that emotion. He was helpless, trapped with this banter because it was what he knew. But it was a cage of its own, wasn’t it?
He brushed his lips across her jaw until he reached her ear. “Aye. I’m willing. It’ll be mighty hard…” He nudged her back and withdrew. “…but I’m more than willing. For your sister, you see.”
“Mighty big of you.”
He stroked his hand around her waist and gripped her delicious rump. He tugged her closer until he’d pressed her fully against him. The pressure-pain was sweet as his cock pulsed between them. “I’m glad you noticed.”
She groaned. “Oh, that was bad. But I walked right into that one,” she whispered.
“Aye, you did.” He walked her backward until she bumped against the wall of the stables. She hit the side with a soft oof.
He pinned her against the wall with his hips. Her eyes latched onto his, and he gently stroked his knuckles up her neck, along her jaw, and across her soft cheek. Her pulse jumped in her neck, and their breaths grew ragged.
Aye. He was done with holding back. If she wasn’t staying, if she couldn’t—wouldn’t—admit her feelings, he’d show her what she’d be missing. Show her what she could have with him. And selfishly, no way could he let her leave without touching her, tasting her one last time.
“You’re so…” Beautiful. “…smart to recognize what needs to be done.”
“Is that what you call it?” Her voice brushed against his cheek as he lowered his mouth.
“Aye. Brilliant,” he murmured.
“I suppose that makes you brilliant too.”
He brushed his lips against hers, and his heart soared at her sharp intake of breath. “If you say so.” Another brush of his lips, but that wasn’t enough. Not enough at all. He bent his head, nibbled at her lower lip, and took her mouth more firmly, tasting her, treasuring her. Oh, God, her taste. He’d been right—he could taste the heat of the day’s sun on her skin.
He pushed his fingers up the back of her neck until they dug into her luscious hair. He cradled her head more firmly and tilted it to that wonderful angle he’d discovered before. Her mouth parted.
Needing no further invitation—he wasn’t that daft yet—he swept his tongue inside. His knees nearly buckled with the tasting of her again. More. Dhia fhèin, he wanted, needed more. She brushed her hands across his back and held him tighter against her body. Their mouths grew more urgent as they stroked and tasted and feasted on each other, all their pent-up longing finally finding expression.
Her hips undulated against his, and his urgency spiked.
Oh God, he had to feel her sweetly gripping him again as he plunged inside her. His hands dropped to her hips to shove her higher against the wall and do exactly that when some vestige of sanity screamed at him.
He tore his mouth from hers, and they were panting, her eyes wild on his.
He snatched her hand and tugged her toward the back door of the inn. He’d get her to their bed, show her what she’d be missing, and beware anyone who stood in his way.
Except for that small puppy in his path licking his own underparts. He stepped gingerly around the fellow and tugged on Traci’s hand as he once again aimed for the back door.
Traci stumbled up the path behind Iain and bumped into him as he pushed open the heavy oak door. Her hand clutched in his larger one, she followed him into the dim hallway of the inn. Already, she’d swear that his skin was drying off from the sheer amount of heat he put off. Urgency and need raced through her, pulling her emotions along in their wake until she felt caught up in a giddy rush—for this felt personal. As they’d bantered by the barn, it seemed to hold a different edge, and she got the distinct impression it was her he wanted to be with. Her he cared about.
If she was right and her sister was the gruagach, they’d find her soon and she’d leave. The heady giddiness morphed into panic.
No. She shoved the panic and the other emotions to the side. She was indulging, that was all, because she wanted to and, yeah, because she’d gone and let her imagination run a bit ahead of itself earlier. This was an indulgence. For both of them. Nothing more. And because of that, she was on safe ground. She knew the rules from the outset. This meant nothing.
They’d reached the foot of the stairs when Duncan stepped out of the tap room. “Iain. A moment, please?”
Iain practically growled at Duncan. “Be gone.”
Duncan reared back, surprise written across his face, but a sly smile stole across his rugged features. He held up both hands and stepped backward.
Iain tugged on her hand again, and they bounded up the short flight of stairs to his room. Her heart beat so hard, it felt as if it was as loud as the pounding of their feet on the wooden stairs. Yep, pure indulgence. That was all this was. He shoved open the door so hard it banged against the wall and sprang back to his palm with a resounding smack.
Inside the room, a maid was straightening the bed, and she yelped in surprise. One look at Iain, and she ducked her head and power-walked out of the room.
Traci snorted. It was just too delicious, seeing this Highlander go all He-Man, scaring the staff. Even more so because it was so unlike Iain. Normally, he slipped through the world with a wink and a soft laugh, putting everyone around him at ease.
He kicked the door shut and lifted her clear off her feet and into his arms. “No laughing, my wife.”
“I’m not.”
“So you randomly snort like a pig?” Humor laced his voice.
She gave him a mock punch in his pec, which was, yeah, right by her cheek. Sigh. “Hey, who you calling a pig?”
“So you were laughing…” In two long strides he reached the bed, and then she was airborne and weightless for about two seconds until the bed’s soft covers poofed around her, cushioning her fall.
He landed on the bed beside her. “I might have to punish you for that.”
“You don’t like to be laughed at?”
“No man wants his woman snickering as he’s wooing her.”
“So…what moves have you got, big guy?” She nudged his hip with hers.
“Patience. Patience. I’m still wanting to discuss your punishment.” He swung a leg across hers and planted his hands on either side of her shoulders. He arched back, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against her hip. She tried to scoot sideways a tad to get that delicious weight resting right where she wanted him, but he was like a solid mountain.
“Hmm.” His gaze roamed across her chest and down the length of her body and back up again, making her squirm all over.
How had she resisted him this whole time? No matter. They were here now. And she’d take advantage of it.
What hot-blooded woman wouldn’t?
“My punishment?”
“I’m thinking…”