Flora was falling—the only thing holding her up was the arm coiled around her waist. Isaac tasted of cinnamon and honey and everything right in the world. All her worries melted away as his tongue traced the seam of her lips, then pushed in and swiped across her own.
She surrendered to the sensations that burst through her, the ones that reached down into her core and called out for her to forget all reason, the ones that sang, “Let go.” And she did, allowing her tongue to tangle with his as she rose on her toes, tilting her head to give him better access.
As the embrace deepened, a need she’d never before felt washed over her, one she recognized as both primal and essential. Her body took over, and she gave in to the urges, drinking him in as if she’d lived without something her whole life, a primitive instinct inside that now called to her and declared this is right. Raising her hands, she latched onto his sides and held on, letting go completely as the warmth of his body seared her through his clothing.
Isaac pulled away, breathless, his gaze focused on her. As he shook his head, a worry crept in. What had she done wrong? Was that despair? Had she ruined the moment somehow? She couldn’t hide the hitch in her breath or the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
“You have to be certain this is what you want.” He shook his head again.
“I dinnae wish to stop.” It sounded like a strangled sob broke from his throat. She almost added, “Please, please keep going,” but would that be wrong too?
“I sent Fredrick out to find something. I tried.” He stopped and swallowed, and despite the reticence in his tone, she could still hear the desire thrumming in his voice, the need still clawing at him as his grip on her waist tightened.
Fredrick was currently the last person she wanted to talk about. She didn’t want to talk at all. She only wanted to feel this man’s hands on her body.
“I can’t find anything to prevent you from becoming with child.”
If anything could stop the erratic fevered beat of her heart, that was it. She shivered and closed her eyes as she let her body rest back on the flats of her feet.
He was correct to stop, and he was putting her desires above his. After all, she knew from watching so many others that the man could leave. Most of the time, they did, and she could be left alone to raise a babe out of wedlock. But would it be so different from what she was doing now? She was taking care of other’s babes, and although she’d never acknowledged it, she enjoyed the role of caregiver. And she knew somewhere down deep, if she were to become a mother, Isaac would not abandon her completely.
He cut into her thoughts. “I could withdraw before spilling my seed inside you, but that doesn’t guarantee it.” Letting his hands fall from her side, he reached up to clasp her cheeks, turning his brilliant blue gaze to rest on her eyes. “If there is a child . . .”
“Shhh.” She dismissed his concerns, shaking her head as she grabbed onto his wrists. This was worth it to her. She would never find a man she respected more, one who spoke to every part of her, and while she knew they could never truly be together, she had faith in him. If she had his babe, she would have something beautiful and a little one to remind her that not everything in this world is tainted.
And she knew that when Isaac left, a part of him would always remain with her. She’d never be able to look out a window again without thinking of him and what could have been if she’d been someone else, if she weren’t a common thief.
“I want this, Isaac. I want ye, and I want to remember this when ye are gone.” Something flickered in his gaze, but she couldn’t have named the emotion if she’d tried, just like there was no way to explain how to her, everything else in the world had disappeared. She swallowed. “Please, Isaac. Don’t stop.”
He nodded, apparently coming to his own decision. His fingers spread and delved back into her hair, and tingles erupted on her scalp as he started to slide pins from where they were secured. His mouth dipped to hers, claiming her body and if she were honest, her heart.
A tightness invaded her chest, and her core heated as she inched closer. One of his hands skimmed down the length of her freed hair, his palm landing flat across her back. He drew her in, clutching her to him as if she were more precious than the items that she’d taken from him. A heady feeling she couldn’t quite explain flooded through her as he cherished her.
He made her feel as if she were worthy of his affection, as if she weren’t a wretched criminal from the streets as if she were just a woman who he desired more than any other.
She trembled. When he released her, she thought he might change his mind, that he remembered who she truly was, but he shrugged out of his jacket, then started pulling the ruffles from his neck. She licked her lips, her breath catching as the untamed, carefree Isaac emerged, the one who lived and loved without society's boundaries. The man who made her chest beat erratically and called to that part of her that believed in tales of love.
Feeling overdressed, she kicked off her shoes while keeping her gaze transfixed on the transformation in front of her. He drew his shirt over his head, and she was mesmerized by his shoulders and chest, the sinewy muscle dancing in the scant evening light that flowed in from the window. Impulse struck, and she placed her hands on his taunt warm flesh, tracing the outlines and inspecting the solid wall. She’d not realized before the true beauty in his form. When she glanced up, his gaze almost melted her.
Suddenly, his mouth was on hers again, and she was lost. She became vaguely aware of a loosening in the tension that had gripped her, and then she felt Isaac’s hands tugging at her gown, releasing it from her shoulders. His hands returned to her sides, gripping her waist, drawing her closer, and deepening the embrace as the heat from his fingers soaked through her shift, eliciting a shiver as the sensation caught her off guard.
She wasn’t sure how he managed it, but suddenly her gown was crumbling to the ground, all with his mouth still claiming hers. When he released her and backed up, he was an Isaac she’d never seen—out of control, wild, and focused squarely on her.
Hearing the faint strains of laughter in the hall, she glanced toward the solid barrier between them and the rest of the house. The sound died as suddenly as it had occurred. Still, when her gaze returned to the man in front of her, it was to discover he’d deemed the sound insignificant or not heard it because his dilated eyes were still fixated on her as he unfastened his breeches and started pulling them down.
She’d somehow missed him removing his buckled shoes, but again she felt as if he were ahead of her, so she dropped into the nearest chair to remove her stockings, carefully peeling them from her legs. When her regard returned to him, her breath caught. Isaac was completely nude.
Isaac’s penis stood erect, and the size of it startled her. She was accustomed to taking care of little boys, and when John had taken from her what she’d not agreed to give, she’d not seen that part of him. But still, she swallowed, a small piece of trepidation sneaking in.
But this was Isaac, so she squashed it down as she let her gaze take in the whole of him.
Standing, she stepped closer and met his fevered gaze. She couldn’t breathe as his arms engulfed her again, cocooning her in their solid, reassuring embrace. His lips returned to hers, and she was again swept away. Her fears were washed asunder with the flood of need that crashed over her as his tongue delved in and danced with hers.
His arms loosened as his hands skimmed down her sides and found the edge of the thin material left between them. His fingers collided with her bare thighs as he dipped farther, and a new wave of desire spiked through her as his flesh tickled hers. His hands slid up to cup her rear end and squeeze her there. The length of his erection pressed into her abdomen, and a thrill ran through her, along with a renewed apprehension.
Letting her go, he took her shift in hand as his lips left hers. He lifted, her arms following the material up as he smoothly hefted it over her head and tossed it to the side. A tremble started in her hands as she tried to cover herself. No one had ever seen her like this before—she feared she might not meet his expectations, and he would turn her away.
He stared, and she blushed, still standing in the pile of material from her gown. “Why would you hide?”
“I’m afraid of not being enough.” She was surprised at how easily the confession left her lips. Words she’d never been brave enough to say to anyone but always felt. A warmth stole across her cheeks, and she wondered if her confession had been poorly timed when he shook his head.
“You are perfection.”
And although she knew he couldn’t mean it, and maybe he was thinking with something other than his head and forgotten she was a thief, elation spread through her. She wanted to believe that look in his eyes, the conviction in his voice, and the children’s tale that love could conquer all, if only for just a little while.
Because she felt for this man. There was no way it was love, but whatever this feeling was, which had been unleashed deep within her, was like nothing she’d felt for any other. If he weren’t an English earl, she would even fight for him or beg him to stay. But there was no hope for the future. There was only now, and she was going to take what she could before her chance disappeared.
She stepped closer. “I am yours.” And she meant it. Placing her trust in him was the only thing that had felt true in years. And if this turned out to be a bad decision, she would face the consequences when they came.
A strangled rumble came from Isaac’s throat. “I promise to take care of you.”
Interesting words, but what she saw meant more to her than the sentiment. His gaze had softened, and he stared upon her as if she could be more, as if she were already more, and that meant everything to her. Right now, she could be a queen with the way his gaze worshipped her.
This was right.
His hand reached out, stopping midair, waiting for her to close the distance. Her arm rose, and she clasped her hand in his. When she did, he swiveled and gently encouraged her to follow him to his bed. Once there, he turned back to her. “I’m going to show you how a woman should be treated.”
All she could do was nod as gooseflesh rose from her fevered flesh.
He tilted his head toward the bed. She climbed on, scooting to the middle, not knowing how much room he would need. She lay flat on her back, waiting, but instead of climbing on top of her, he eased in beside her.
His flesh was like the softest silk, even smoother than the beautiful dresses he’d bought for her to wear this weekend. She hoped never to forget the sensation of how he felt next to her and how her heart soared through the skies like an eagle. She felt more intoxicated than any drink had ever made her.
Isaac’s hand skimmed across her cheek as she stared, motionless, afraid of doing something to ruin the moment. Then his fingers were threading through her hair as his skin rubbed against her, and he lowered his mouth to hers. Her breasts tightened despite not being restrained in one of the tight-fitting garments.
She gave in and returned the kiss until he pulled back, his gaze pinning her with a passion so hot it almost scalded her with its intensity. Isaac’s head dipped again. This time, instead of landing on her mouth, he trailed his lips up and down her neck, planting gentle kisses that sent rushes of sensation bursting to the spot between her legs, which now felt hot and needy. His teeth scrapped onto her sensitive nape, and she gasped as a strange exhilaration sprang to life, and her body arched into his.
Then fear ignited. “Somethings wrong.” She clasped onto his side. “I can feel my heart and my woman’s area . . . it aches.”
The last thing she’d expected was the chuckle that emerged as he bit down again, and fire exploded in her core. “Nothing is wrong, my thief.” And he let his hand wander down there as if to prove a point, but when his finger touched the nub between her legs, she felt more than heard the whimper that escaped from her throat.
A finger trailed up and down her passage, gliding and setting off sparks of fire in its wake. “You are so wet.”
She’d known something was wrong. Her eyes started to water, thinking he would abandon her at the shame and leave this ache burning, but he declared, “I can’t wait any longer.”
He shifted, pulling her legs apart and positioning himself between them. She fisted her hands into the covers on the bed and turned her face to the side as she squeezed her eyelids shut, waiting for the pain that had ripped through her the previous time.
“Look at me, Flora. I’m not going to hurt you.”
As she obeyed, she saw the man who stared back at her was gentle and caring. It was Isaac, and she knew then she trusted him.
He sank toward her and took her mouth in a fierce, passionate embrace as she felt a pressure near her core. She melted into his embrace as the weight increased, filling her, and sating that ache that had grown to a crescendo of almost pain. Then he pushed even farther, and he was buried so deep inside her they had become one person.
Releasing the blankets, she clasped onto his side. His tongue still moving in her mouth, he rocked his pelvis, and she moaned at the pleasure it elicited as it relieved that clawing need that had overwhelmed her. He did it again and broke free from her mouth as he rose on both arms to watch her. She tried to keep her gaze on his, but at his continued motions, her eyes rolled back and a shudder ran through her. Isaac’s gaze darkened.
Then he was moving his hips from side to side in a rhythm that had her panting and holding onto his waist because she felt the world shifting sideways as his gaze remained on hers, and she found it harder to return the stare as her eyes wouldn’t obey. A wave of something else assailed her, a sensation that had her gasping as tickles of explosions burst inside her over and over. She felt her body spasming, but she couldn’t control a thing as her head moved back and forth, and pleasure swallowed her.
Just as she was coming down from the high, Isaac started to pump in and out, gasping as if he couldn’t breathe, then he let out a loud groan as if he were in pain. And suddenly, she felt empty as he withdrew and his manhood landed on her belly, and he continued to move on top of her, warm liquid dripped onto her abdomen.
She knew he had pulled out only to protect her, but the sudden absence of him left her hollow. Her body had wanted him to spill its seed inside her. And that was when she knew she had been wrong. She loved this man.
She loved him, and he was going to leave her.
Isaac was in heaven. Flora had fallen asleep curled upon his shoulder, her soft breath like a hypnotic beat that made his heart sing with each inhalation. She had said she was his, and he believed her. There was no way he’d be able to leave Scotland without her now. She filled that part of his soul that had been void since his father’s passing.
As he lay there, he dreamed up ways to persuade her to return to England with him. His sisters were married and no longer counted on him. His mother spent all her days in London and had a new suitor who might decide to marry her as well.
He could set up a trust for Flora’s family. She wouldn’t leave them for him if he couldn’t guarantee their safety. He knew that now. She was like him and knew the responsibility of others being dependent upon her.
Would William try to keep her from him? Would the man protest if he promised to keep her safe from Alastair and any other threats that came her way? She’d said, “I’m yours.” He was now responsible for her whether she or any of her family liked it. Some primitive part of him had clung to those words and roared out a primal possession as he’d claimed her body.
His gaze drifted down her sleek form and landed on her flat belly. Pulling out of her at the height of his pleasure had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. His body had screamed at him that it wasn’t right, but he’d done it for her. Still, that was no guarantee. She could be carrying his child.
A slight knock sounded at the door, followed by Fredrick easing the door in, probably coming to help him ready for bed and lay his clothing out for tomorrow. When the man saw him, he froze and started backing toward the door. “Forgive me, my lord.”
“No trouble. Will you please let Isobel know that Flora will not require her services this evening?”
“Yes, my lord.” Fredrick cleared his throat. “I never found what you were looking for.”
“I know. It will be all right.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
“Goodnight.” The door made a soft click as the valet exited, and then another as the door locked.
He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew, Flora was stirring in his arms and had sat up.
“I’m hungry.”
“Did you not eat at dinner?”
“Nae, I was too nervous. Kate had just asked me to pick the pocket of the constable. I didnae eat a thing.”
Glancing toward the window, he judged the time by the scant amount of light coming through the panes. It was mid-summer, and in this part of Scotland, it never seemed to get dark. His best guess would be about three in the morning, and he’d not heard anything in the hall for quite some time.
“Can we go see what they left out in the kitchen?” Being seen alone in the estate this time of night would compromise Flora, but he guessed she really wouldn’t care, and the odds were good that everyone else was in bed.
He was about to formulate some kind of counterargument when her stomach growled. “Yes. I guess we can, but we’ll need to be quick about it.”
Sliding out from beneath the covers, she moved around the room, looking for her discarded shift. He reluctantly threw back the blanket and rose to grab his breeches and his shirt. Before he had finished donning them, she was at the door, pulling it open.
“Don’t you need a robe?”
“Nae, no one will be up this time of night.”
“At least your slippers?”
“Nae. What for? We’re only going to the kitchen.”
He was about to protest when she pulled the door in and disappeared into the hall. He had no choice but to leave his shoes and follow. His mother would not approve, but somehow the thought brought him joy instead of the typical dread at remembering who he was and how he was to behave.
She waited for him in the hall, and at least she had the sense to whisper, “Which way?”
Although he’d not explored the home, he knew which direction to go since he’d pulled her through the kitchen after their walk earlier in the day. He hoped she didn’t remember because she’d been so enamored with his kisses that she’d forgotten. He led her down the corridor to the back stairs.
They had hit the landing and moved toward the back of the house when a shrill gong blasted through the space. Pulling her into a corner at the sudden sound, it took him a brief second to realize what it was, the chime of a clock. She laughed, and the soft noise made him feel as if he were part of a conspiracy, as if they were children hiding from their tutor or avoiding bedtime.
“I remember, this way.” And now she was tugging him the rest of the distance down the hall and through the kitchen door. Someone had left an oil lamp burning, and for a few moments, he thought maybe there were still servants about, but no one came into the room.
A lightness he hadn’t felt in years came over him as he leaned against the wall and watched Flora inspect the cabinets, drawers, and counter space. Despite the size of the place and her unfamiliarity with the home, she seemed to know instinctually where to look for what she wanted. He’d shied away from the kitchens at home because he never knew where things were and had been scolded too many times as a lad for loitering about.
She was a vision, glancing around in just her shift and bare feet, her chestnut hair free and falling to her waist. He wanted this. He wanted to have a home where he could make love to his partner, then rummage through the kitchen with her at any hour of the night. His status wouldn’t let him take Flora as his wife, but she could still come home with him. He had to find a way to make it work because he wanted her, and not one of the stuffy priggish ladies his mother expected him to find in London.
Suddenly, she was standing in front of him, holding out a decanter of something. “Can ye bring this?”
“Yes,” he said in a hushed tone as he took the bottle.
She turned and retrieved a small basket she’d placed on the counter. “I have enough. Back to the room.” Her eyes actually twinkled in the lamplight, and her smile was infectious, something about it easing its way into a part of him that no one had ever reached. Taking her free hand in his, he drew her to the door, pausing only to extinguish the flame left unattended. They made their way back out into the hall and returned to his chamber.
Once inside, Flora pulled a tartan cloth from a chest at the foot of the bed and placed it on the floor near the window. Retrieving the basket she’d set on the dressing table, she plopped down on the material and tucked her feet to the side.
He lit two candles that had been left on either side of the bed. Between the flames and the soft glow coming through the windows, he had a nice view of his little thief. She looked so innocent and real. Something about the scene felt too right.
“Come sit. Bring the wine.” She patted the space beside her and gave him that conspiratorial smile that made him feel as if he were part of something bigger, something important, something he didn’t want to give up.
“What did you find?” He asked as he retrieved the decanter from the dressing table where he’d placed it when they walked in.
She smiled and started pulling items out. “Bread, cheese, some olives, and a little bit of meat.” Holding out her hands, she gave him two glasses. “Will ye pour us some wine?”
“I can do that.”
She laid a large plate down on the blanket and placed a piece of bread on it. Next, she pulled out a knife and cut it into slices before drawing some cheese from the basket and doing the same. She placed small bits on each piece.
He set one cup beside her, then swallowed a sip of his wine. It was smooth and had hints of strawberries, reminding him of the taste and smell of the woman before him. After she filled the plate with the items from the kitchen, she took a bite of bread and cheese.
“So good. I cannae believe I didnae take advantage of all the amazing dishes at the meal.”
Her words reminded him that she was accustomed to scraping by and only just having enough to feed those who lived at the home she called Camelot. Guilt stabbed at him as he remembered her words from earlier, and he fully absorbed them—she wouldn’t risk stealing from others if she could avoid it. She only stole to help her family.
Her gaze scanned the room as she chewed. After swallowing, she started, “Is yer home like this?”
“Similar, but my estate is just slightly larger.” He bit into the sweet meat she had procured.
“If ye have a place like this, why would ye ever come to Aberdeen?” Flora took another bite and wove her hand in the air as if somehow their surroundings were unbelievable.
“Because I was going to lose it all if I didn’t regain my family’s fortune.”
She stilled, and her breath appeared to catch. It seemed to take her twice as long to chew the bite of bread, and once she had, she took a large gulp of the wine. “Ye are going to lose yer home?” Her shoulders sank.
“I might if you don’t return my belongings.”
“Why were they here, and why would you walk around with everything ye own in yer pocket?” She had paled, and he thought she might be sympathetic to his plight. It was something she understood. If only he’d thought to explain it earlier—but if he’d done that, he wouldn’t be having the best night of his life.
“My uncle gambled everything away. I came to win it back. I was just returning from doing so when I met you on the street.”
“Why would he take such a risk?”
“He drank too much and had always had a gambling problem. When my father was alive, he was able to keep the lout in check.”
“Why did yer uncle no’ try to win it back?”
“He killed himself.”
She gasped.
“He left my mother and me a note to let us know that he’d lost everything to a ship captain who was sailing that night. It took me several years to track the man down.”
“Yer uncle was a coward.” She actually looked angry for him.
“Yes. He was. But now you see why I need my box back.”
Her gaze drifted down, repentant, but still troubled. As if she had been thinking about skipping out on him after this weekend and ignoring their deal.
“Why did you steal it?”
She shook her head, and when her gaze returned to his, it was to see a glossy sheen in their depths.
“I can help you. Are you in trouble? I have connections.”
“Yer friends cannae help my family or me.”
“Let me try.”
“We will discuss it on the carriage ride back to Aberdeen. Please don’t ruin this night with my troubles. I want to forget them for once.”
He didn’t want to think about her home or Alastair or John either. He wanted to enjoy this time with her, but most of all, he wanted to convince her she should come back to England with him.
He nodded, and her smile returned.
“Tell me about yer education. I’m doing my best to help the kids at Camelot, but I’m no’ always sure what I should do for them.”
“Did you find a way to get Isobel the training she needed?”
“Aye.” It was a different smile now, one of pride, both in her sister and in her ability to provide for the young woman.
“First, tell me more about Kate.”
Flora’s lips thinned. “I’ve done my best for her, but she was already set in her ways when Will brought her in. She’s a good person, but she can make ye believe anything, and she uses it to her advantage. I was truly surprised to see her here.”
“So she is not a Reid?”
“Nae, but please dinnae tell. I promise she would never harm anyone with her deceptions.”
“I’ll leave it for now, but if she asks ye to do something dangerous again, I will have words with her about it.”
“Kate will probably disappear soon, anyway.”
Satisfied with Flora’s answers, he returned to her question. “Have you thought about hiring a tutor and bringing them to your home to teach a few of the kids at one time?”
“That is a good idea. So far, I’ve been lucky finding apprenticeships for some of them.”
He didn’t think it was all luck. He would bet one of his ships that the people of Aberdeen were willing to take on her family just to help her. He would do almost anything for the beautiful lass at his side. “Come back to England with me.”
When she said nothing, he continued, “You can stay at my estate. I’ll take care of you. I want you there with me.”
“I cannae leave my family.”
“What if I help take care of them too?” And he meant it. He would do that for her. He was already tossing numbers around in his head, formulating a plan to help her provide for them. As soon as he got his possessions back.
Skepticism glared back at him in her gaze, then she quirked her lips to the side, possibly considering his proposal.
“We can discuss that when we return as well.” He wanted her to say yes now, to know he wouldn’t have to go another night without her. Somehow, the thought of returning to his empty, cold home made his chest ache. “Just say you will consider.”
“I will think about it.”
They finished eating, then he pulled her back to the bed and took her body once more, this time finding it had become even harder to withdraw from the warmth and security of her willing embrace.