Chapter 24

Drew was so astonished by the lass’s attack that he actually flinched.

In the next instant, of course, he moved from astonishment to baffled pleasure.

Finally his male instincts took over. He seized the opportunity…and the lass…and returned her enthusiastic kiss, ignoring the clatter of upset tankards and spoons as they grappled across the table.

She tasted of ale and woman and desire, the last flavor more intoxicating than anything he’d ever drunk before. His head whirled as she came after him with a vengeance, pressing her lips to his with delicious determination.

What had come over the lass, he didn’t know. Nor did he much feel like asking. He only wanted her to keep on.

As she continued her impulsive caress, the world somehow gradually dropped away. Suddenly there was no tavern, no ale, no crackling fire, only this beautiful woman and her irresistible kiss. Her touch was as real as anything he’d ever felt, and he longed to embrace her more fully. But he was half afraid to move, lest he burst the fragile bubble of the moment.

So while she clung to him, he slowly tangled his fingers through her tresses, angling her face so he might delve between her eager lips. She responded with a soft mewl of pleasure and let her mouth fall open, granting him leave to explore. Ever so gently, he swept his tongue across her soft lips, and she sighed, shivering, into his mouth.

But when he would have made patient forays with the tip of his tongue into the sweet recesses there, gradually earning her trust, tempting her to greater intimacies, all at once Jossy made it abundantly clear she was having none of that.

She grabbed his face between forceful hands and, with a groan of feminine need, opened her mouth wide and utterly devoured him.

The lusty growl he returned must have come from some animal lodged in a deep, dark corner of his chest. The wild creature charged to the surface, shoving aside Drew’s noble intentions and ravenously slaking its thirst on the willing maiden.

And still she didn’t recoil. Instead, she demanded more, clawing at his neck, gasping against his mouth, thrusting and parrying with her tongue as if they were engaged in a duel to the death.

His blood boiled, his heart pounded, and his grew instantly hard, as hard as the oak table over which they tussled. Faith, if he’d been the coarse-mannered Highlander he pretended to be instead of an English gentleman, he’d have cleared the table with a sweep of his arm, tossed up her skirts, and taken her then and there.

What the Highlander had done to her, Josselin didn’t know.

She couldn’t think.

She couldn’t breathe.

And she couldn’t stop.

He was scattering her focus and shattering her restraint, stripping away her inhibitions and destroying her self-control. Yet she’d never felt more vibrant and alive.

Her lips tingled as his mouth moved restlessly over hers with a nameless hunger. Her heart raced, her bones melted, and she could hear the blood singing in her ears. She knew only that she desired, she needed, she craved, and that some sensual reward kept eluding her, dancing just out of reach.

A moment more, and she might have lost herself completely to desire. But with the last remaining dregs of reason, she managed to hold on long enough to sense the change in the room.

Applause.

The men in the tavern were clapping. And whistling. And cheering.

She opened her eyes.

He heard it, too. He grunted and frowned like a groggy child, then lifted his lids a quarter of an inch.

Recognition struck them simultaneously, and they drew apart. Josselin stumbled back, plopping down onto her chair while Drew scrutinized the applauding audience with a stormy scowl.

“That’s it, MacAdam!” someone crowed. “I knew ye wouldn’t disappoint.”

“Four kisses! Pay up, Cullen!” another man shouted. “That’s two pounds ye owe me.”

“Oh, fine,” Cullen grumbled. “Anyone want to gamble on five then?”

“Five!” someone yelled back.

“Those Highlanders are a lusty lot,” the tavern wench declared, giving Drew a wink. “If I were ye gentlemen, I’d wager on six.”

Hoots and cries went up, and for a few moments, Drew looked disoriented, as if he’d been roughly wakened from a deep sleep. Then, bemused, he shook his head as he settled back down onto his chair.

But Josselin felt the blood rise in her cheeks. She was humiliated and confused and, aye, a wee bit tipsy, and she longed to skewer a few of the leering spectators. Lucky for them she couldn’t summon up the coordination to draw her dagger.

What had happened? What had Drew done to her? She’d meant to give him one kiss, that was all, a kiss to incur his trust and loosen his tongue.

Loosen his tongue. Aye, she’d certainly done that, she thought as an unwelcome wave of desire washed over her. But then he’d done…whatever ’twas he’d done, and he’d ruined everything. He’d made her forget all about her objectives, her progress, her service to the queen. Not only that, but he’d drawn attention to her, which was the last thing she wanted.

Yet there he sat, looking not a bit sorry.

’Twas ungentlemanly, uncouth, and unforgivable. With an angry pout, she reached across the table and gave him a good shove.

“What was that for?” His brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

“Ye know what.”

She huffed out an annoyed breath, then shot to her feet. Unfortunately, she didn’t quite have her balance, and she listed a bit to the left. Drew caught her arm to steady her, and she slapped his hand away.

But at her next step, her knee buckled, and she would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her waist.

“Easy, lass.”

She sighed. Bloody hell. This assignment was not going well at all. Her legs had turned to custard. Everyone was staring at her. And curse it all, she couldn’t even remember the unpronounceable name of the Highland spy’s home town.

“Let’s get out o’ here,” he murmured.

She glared at him, making a halfhearted effort to wrench herself out of his grasp. But his gaze softened, and the curious vulnerability she saw in his eyes took the edge off of her ire. Still, nothing save leaving would ease the sting of her shame.

They departed to the bawdy jeers of the tavern patrons, and if it weren’t for the Highlander whisking her quickly out the door, she might have hurled a few choice oaths their way.

Drew was glad of the sobering sea breeze that slapped his face as they left the tavern. It cooled his fevered brain, even if it couldn’t quench the fire burning in his loins.

Only one thing could do that.

And that wasn’t going to happen. Not today.

Perhaps if he’d truly been a ruthless Highland laird, accustomed to seizing what he wanted and damn the consequences, he might have taken advantage of her innocence. ’Twould have been easy to seduce the wanton maid, given she was in her cups and over her head.

But his uncles had raised him to be an honorable man. Never in his life had he violated an unwilling lass or seduced an unwitting one, and he wasn’t about to start now, even if that lass was an enemy Scot.

While they weaved their way back to the beer wagon, Jossy remained silent, which was a blessing. He didn’t think he could endure discussing what had happened at the tavern, and he certainly didn’t want to dwell on what wasn’t going to happen now.

Instead, he did what he’d always done when he suffered from excessive sexual frustration.

When they arrived at the links, he took out his fairway club, stood at one end of the course with a dozen balls, and hit the bloody hell out of them.