The MacTaggart Brothers Trilogy

by Anna Durand

  He stared at me for several seconds. "You are a confusing woman. How are you not innocent if you're a virgin?"

  "You're making assumptions again." I tried to ignore the way his fingers caressed my skin, but it sent a continuous, tingling current through me. Sidling away from him, beyond his reach, I faced the lake again and stretched my legs out, leaning back to brace my hands on the towel behind me. "I've never had sexual intercourse with anyone, but that doesn't mean I'm ignorant of all sexual knowledge."

  His gaze roved up and down my body, from my sneaker-clad feet and bare legs exposed by my shorts to my low-cut T-shirt, and finally, to my face. "You're very comfortable with your body, aren't you? Not embarrassed to show it off."

  "I don't usually dress this way. Sweats and baggy T-shirts are my M.O." Though the trees still shaded us, I grew hot from head to toe. "What does my clothing have to do with the topic at hand?"

  "You say you're not innocent and I'm noticing how you're at ease with your sensuality. But I could use a wee bit of help connecting the dots here."

  "Tell me," I said, evading his gaze even as he sat up to look at me, "what do you think being a virgin means? In terms of sexual experience?"

  The endearing little crinkle between his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, returned. "Means no experience, of course."

  "Not for me." My stomach had begun to roil, the closer I got to confessing the truth. I'd never told anyone about it before. Shutting my eyes, I made myself utter the words. "Just because I've never been touched by a man doesn't mean I have no idea what pleasure feels like. There are other ways to, um… have orgasms."

  I winced, eyes still firmly shut, and awaited his reaction.

  He chuckled, low and soft and sexy as hell. "You masturbate."

  Opening one eye only, I peeked at him.

  He was grinning, his body still quivering with contained laughter.

  Both eyes open now, I made a face at him. "You think it's funny?"

  "No." He brushed the backs of his fingertips down my cheek, his laughter dying and his grin morphing into a sweet smile. "I think it's charming."

  Now my brows snapped together. "Charming? I intend to stay a virgin for the foreseeable future, but meanwhile I — do naughty things to myself in the privacy of my bedroom. How can you not think I'm demented?"

  He shrugged one strapping shoulder, his eyes alight. "I knew you were a passionate woman the night we met. And I was right."

  "It's not passion when you're alone."

  "Of course it is." He leaned in close to murmur in my ear. "I plan to take full advantage of your secret passion."

  "Remember the rules, Aidan. No sex, no love, no marriage."

  Lingering too close, his breaths fanning over my ear and cheek, he murmured, "Ye cannae stop from falling in love."

  "Yes I can." I sat forward, clasping my hands on my lap. "I can control my feelings, the same way I control my behavior."

  He shook his head. "Emotions are uncontrollable. You can't keep from feeling."

  "I disagree."

  "Maybe you are daft," he said with a teasing smile. "But since you can't control your behavior, that doesn't bode well for your no-love plans."

  "What do you mean I can't control my behavior?"

  "The other night. At the club." One corner of his mouth lifted. "You molested me."

  "I did not — Well, maybe I did. But you started it, begging to kiss me like that."

  "Guilty. I wasn't begging, though." He moved back enough to see my face — and so I could see his. "You've been honest with me about your rules. I should be honest with you about what I want."

  "Okay," I said slowly, unsure if I wanted to hear this.

  "I came to America to find a wife."

  "Don't they have women in Scotland?"

  "Been dating in Scotland since I was fifteen, but I've never met the right kind of girl."

  I drew my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. "Doesn't explain why you came all the way to America."

  "Ah…" He bowed his head briefly, then gave me a tight-lipped smile. "My brother Lachlan found an American wife. Met her at Dance Ardor. If it worked for him, why not for me?"

  "Let me get this straight." I tapped my fingers on my crossed arms. "Your brother, the one who told you every Friday is kilt night at the club, met his wife in that very same club."

  "Aye."

  "Was he, by any chance, wearing a kilt at the time?"

  Clearing his throat, head down, Aidan peeked up at me through his long lashes. "Yes. It was kilt night then, which is why I believed him when he said every Friday was for kilts."

  "I see. And what will you do with this American wife once you find her? Do you plan on kidnapping her back to Scotland?"

  "Not kidnapping anyone." He made a scoffing face. "And I don't know. Haven't thought that far ahead. Find a wife first, talk about living arrangements later."

  "Uh-huh. A good, specific plan."

  "Everything can be worked out when I find the right woman." He slanted toward me again, his mouth temptingly close to mine. "I knew the moment I saw you, Calli, you could be the right one for me. Give me four weeks to convince you, and if I can't, I'll go away and never pester you again."

  My suspicious side decided to speak up. "Why four weeks? That's an awfully specific timeframe. Most people would say a month."

  He scratched behind his ear, his expression pinched. "Lachlan spent four weeks with Erica."

  I threw my head back, groaning at the heavens before I returned my attention to Aidan. "I don't want to participate in a reenactment of the epic love affair between the Amazing Lachlan and Erica the American Wonder-Wife."

  "Ahmno trying to —" He scrunched up one side of his mouth, then exhaled a long breath and his features relaxed. "Forget about Lachlan and Erica. Please, Calli, give me four weeks."

  "To do what, precisely? You'll never convince me we belong together."

  A sly smile crept across his face. "I mean to seduce you. If I can tempt you to break your first rule, the rest will follow."

  "The rest meaning love and marriage." My stomach churned once more, the sour taste of bile rising in my throat. I might have confessed my naughty little secret to him, but I dreaded sharing the reasons behind my eschewing of romance. "You can't make me fall in love with you."

  With total seriousness, he said, "I can, and I will."

  I snorted.

  He slid a fingertip along my jaw, down my throat, over my collarbone. When his finger teased the upper curve of one breast, I sucked in a breath.

  "You like me," he said, "otherwise you wouldn't have invited me to visit you or brought me to a secluded beach. You want me, otherwise you wouldn't have kissed me twice — with breathtaking passion and sensuality." He coasted his fingertip down the valley between my breasts until it collided with the neckline of my T-shirt. "Those facts give me hope you will fall for me. Ye willnae be able to stop it."

  "Because you're so irresistible."

  "That's not the main reason." He withdrew his hand but kept his mouth near mine, our gazes glued to each other. "It's because I'm lovable."

  Laughter bubbled out of me — the light, girlie kind that made me feel silly, even though I'd never been labeled silly in my life. Weird, yes. Serious, for sure. Never silly.

  "You are bonnie all the time," he said, "but when you laugh, you're the bonniest of the bonnie."

  "Thanks."

  He studied me for a moment, as if entranced by my bonnie silliness. Then he glanced over at the water, squinting at the sunlight glancing off it. "What is Calli short for?"

  "Nothing. It's my name. Calli Bethany Douglas."

  "A good Scottish name, Douglas."

  "I'm American." I stretched my legs out again, wiggling my feet to iron out the kinks in my ankles. "Is Aidan short for something?"

  He shot me that grin — wide and brilliant and full of exuberance yet heated by an underlying sensuality. "Aidan t
he Magnificent. It's my full, Viking name."

  "Thought you were Scottish."

  "Vikings came to Scotland, you know. I've probably got at least a wee bit of Norse blood in me."

  Well, that might explain his ruthless determination to seduce me into bedding, loving, and wedding him. No, it wasn't ruthless. It was… sweetly determined.

  "What part of Scotland are you from?" I asked.

  "Ballachulish. A village in the Highlands, on the shores of Loch Leven." He gazed out across the blue waters of Lake Superior. "Maybe I'll have a swim. The water's making me sentimental."

  "Did you bring swim trunks?"

  "I don't need them." He sprang to his feet, lifting his shirt as if to shed it.

  "What have you got on under those jeans?"

  He paused with his shirt partly lifted, revealing half of his six-pack abs. "Skin."

  For a couple heart-pounding seconds, I couldn't breathe or blink or tear my gaze away from his belly, away from the narrow trail of cinnamon hair bisecting his abs and vanishing beneath his waistband. No boxers or briefs under there. Nothing but skin. Touchable, lickable skin.

  Aidan lifted his shirt a little higher.

  I shook off my fantasy and held up a hand. "Hold up, Flipper. That water is frigid. Why do you think we didn't see a single person swimming or wading? It comes straight from the depths of Lake Superior, which is very deep and cold. They don't call it an inland sea for nothing."

  He flattened his lips into an oh please expression. "I'm Scottish. Chilly water doesnae scare me."

  "Maybe you should dip your toes in first to test how cold it is." When he continued to scoff and rolled his eyes, I said, "Trust me. You don't want to swim this early in the year unless it's an inland lake or a protected bay. Even then… Well, trust me. Okay?"

  Grumbling, he let his shirt fall back down and nodded. Stripping off his sneakers and socks, he rolled his pant legs up to his knees. While he ambled toward the water, I leaned back, braced on my arms, to watch his muscles flex underneath his clothes. He did have a fine body. Unbelievably fine. Better than fine, actually.

  I let my head loll to the left and moistened my lips, all my attention riveted to his ass and its sculpted muscles shifting inside his jeans.

  Aidan waded out into the gently lapping waves without stopping until the water reached his knees. He froze there, his shoulders bunching and his curled fingers snapping out straight and stiff.

  Though he faced away from me, I could imagine his expression. I'd seen it before, on tourists who thought they could handle the frigid water.

  "Ah!" he hissed, backing out of the water in quick time. "Bod an Donais!"

  I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.

  Aidan spun around and dropped onto his beach towel, rubbing his feet furiously. "You think it's funny? I've probably got frostbite."

  "I warned you." Canting my head, I couldn't help smiling as he gave an exaggerated shiver. I recalled his exclamation and asked, "What was that you said a minute ago? Sounded like another language."

  "Gaelic. I was cursing at the bloody freezing water."

  "What does it mean? The phrase you said."

  "Bod an Donais. Means the devil's penis."

  This time, I couldn't hold back the laughter. It erupted out of me and wouldn't stop until my stomach muscles ached from the exertion and my eyes watered. Aidan watched me with a half smile, half frown until I wiped my eyes and caught my breath.

  "You think that's funny too?" he said. "It's a legitimate Scottish curse. Though I could've said bod a' chac, which means shit's penis."

  I burst out laughing again and collapsed onto my back on the towel, hands clutching my belly. I was in serious danger of suffocating due to an inability to stop laughing.

  My giggles died away when Aidan reclined beside me, his head supported on one hand, his focus squarely on me. "I can teach you plenty of dirty Gaelic phrases — starting with the ones about sex."

  Gaelic sex talk? Spoken in his soft, husky voice, the one he used when he wanted to get me worked up? A delicious little shiver rippled through me. I liked the idea way too much.

  "Let's eat now," I said, as if he hadn't just offered to talk dirty to me.

  "Not yet," he murmured, tipping toward me, his face suddenly positioned over mine and the masculine scent of him wafting over me. "First, I want to kiss you."

  "No sex. Rule number one."

  His mouth twisted into a half-suppressed smirk. "You keep assuming I'm wanting sex, which makes me wonder if you're the one who can't stop thinking about it."

  Good point. Not that I'd admit it. "No comment."

  "Let me kiss you." His eyes had gone hooded, his gaze intent on mine. "Unless you're afraid you can't keep from fucking me, right here on the beach."

  Naturally, a vivid image of just that flared in my mind, complete with sound effects and phantom sensations. I clasped my hands more tightly over my belly, feeling a heaviness there spreading lower. My lips tingled from the memory of our previous kisses, and dammit, I itched to slip my hand inside my shorts and ease the ache growing in my clitoris.

  Aidan's slow smile made me wonder if he could read my mind. "Ready to break your first rule?"

  "No." I squirmed, adjusting my position, but the damp ache lingered. "But we can kiss. Only kiss. No clothing will be removed and no parts of you will sneak under my clothes to touch parts of me. Understand?"

  "Aye. I willnae stroke your boicionn unless you beg me to."

  "My what?"

  "Boicionn." He swept a hand down my body, hovering it a bare inch above me, and halted it over my groin. "Your sweet, pink, slippery folds. The ones I'll lick and stroke when I finally have you naked under me."

  "Never going to happen."

  "We'll see."

  "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

  He laid a hand on my cheek, his thumb drawing circles on my skin, grazing the corner of my mouth. Slanting closer, he hovered his lips millimeters from mine. "Desperate for me?"

  "Patience is not my forte. When I decide to do something, I want to get it done right away."

  "I like that about you."

  His voice had gone deep and gravelly, his breaths tickled my skin. Blue eyes darkened with desire, he commanded my focus. I let my lips drift apart as if I might take his breaths inside me and revel in the flavor of him. My mouth watered at the idea of it.

  "I like everything I've learned about you," he rumbled. "Even your rules."

  Before I could mutter a single syllable in response, he swept his lips across mine — once, twice, three times. His mouth skated over mine, delicate as a breeze, teasing me until I had to fist my hands in the towel beneath me to keep from shoving them into his hair and dragging him in for the kind of deep, unbridled lip-lock we'd shared before, the kind I burned for this time.

  When he darted his tongue out to flick it across the seam of my lips, back and forth, a hot bolt of lust ripped through me. My rational brain shut down, and for once, I didn't give a damn about rules or propriety. I wanted him. His mouth, his tongue, everything. Letting out a long, low moan, I seized his head in both hands and pulled him in to meet my waiting, hungry lips. Our mouths fused, I sank my fingers into his hair and opened my mouth wider, beckoning him to take control.

  A groan resonated in his chest and throat. His tongue dived into my mouth, lashing and coiling around my tongue, starved for the taste and sensation of him inside me, taking and giving with equal measure, overpowered by the pleasure of kissing him.

  When we came up for air, both breathless, we could do nothing but gaze into each other's eyes for a long moment. His blue eyes were glossy and half-closed, and I imagined mine looked the same way. I felt the way he looked — dazed and lustful, craving more.

  I'd just reclaimed my breath when he bent down for another kiss.

  Placing a hand on his chest, I managed to keep him at bay. "Listen, you need to accept I won't ever love
you. I do not fall for men called Don Juan."

  He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Bloody Jamie. Little sisters can be a trial, that's for sure. When you've got five brothers and sisters, you get used to being called all sorts of sarcastic names. Doesn't your brother annoy you that way?"

  "Gavin prefers to annoy me by meddling in my life."

  Aidan nodded. "Overbearing brothers. I sympathize."

  "Ditto. But about this Don Juan thing…"

  "I am not a Don Juan. I like women and I like to flirt, that's all."

  My hand still flat on his chest, I could feel the heat of his body. "How many women have you been with?"

  "Seven."

  I couldn't stop my eyebrows from shooting up. "Seven? That's it? Doesn't sound very Don Juan-ish to me."

  "Told you, I'm not like that. Jamie's exaggerating."

  Aidan laid his hand over mine, slowly peeling my palm away from his shirt. "I'd like another kiss now, please."

  "Okay."

  He set my hand on my bare thigh, his fingers grazing my skin, and bent his head closer to mine. Closer. Closer. Breaths whispering on my skin. Lips millimeters from mine. Closer. Closer.

  His phone warbled a bagpipe melody.

  Muttering what sounded like another Gaelic curse, he rolled away and dug the phone out of his pants pocket. Whatever he saw on the screen made him flinch.

  "Have to take this," he said. "Won't be a minute."

  I had no time to say anything, because he sprang to his feet and trotted a little ways down the beach to answer his call. Though he faced away from me, I could see his anxiety in the tightness of his shoulders and the way he clasped one hand to the back of his bowed head.

  He paced a short length of the beach, head down so I couldn't make out his expression, though he shook his head and gesticulated with one hand as he spoke to the other party.

  I couldn't look away from Aidan, my curiosity mounting with every passing second. What kind of call would make him so agitated? What secrets did he hide? I didn't really know him. Maybe I'd indulged in the fantasy we had some kind of connection, a purely physical one, but Aidan MacTaggart was a stranger. I ought to rethink this… whatever it was between us. Inviting him to visit me. Making out with him on the beach. Confiding my secrets to him. Insanity.