Drop It Like It's Scot (The Hots for Scots Book 5)

by Caroline Lee

  “I want ye to want to be happy.” Was that enough of an explanation? Nay. “I want ye to realize there are better things in life to aspire to, besides a future of devotion to the clan.”

  “Like what?” he whispered.

  Her gaze darted up, catching him once more. “A son might make ye laird, Alistair, but he is also a son. A bairn. He should be more important than the lairdship. So should a daughter. And a wife.”

  He frowned, searching her eyes, and she wasn’t certain if that meant he didn’t understand, or didn’t agree.

  “Love, Alistair! Love is worth aspiring to. ‘Tis more important than power.”

  And ‘tis easier if ye give up control.

  Finally, he slowly exhaled. “Ye said ye love me.”

  “I do. I have. For years.”

  “But…” He shook his head. “Ye gave yerself to another?”

  God’s Wounds, this again?

  Did it matter so much to him that she might not have been a virgin? Or was it the fact she claimed to love him while fooking someone else?

  Aye, judging from the hurt hidden deep in those blue eyes, that might just be it.

  Softly, she moved her hands from his arm to his hips, and when she did that, he lifted his other hand to her cheek, cupping it, holding her in place.

  As if she might run.

  As if there were any other place else she’d rather be!

  For now, she was here, in his arms, and the heat which had always been present between them was already making her breathless.

  “Alistair, ye were my first.”

  “Nay.” The denial was immediate. He even shook his head. “I ken I’m nae small man, Lara. Ye took me all without complaint, and ye didnae bleed.”

  ‘Twas his matter-of-fact statement which had her squirming, her core going wet at the memory of his length.

  “I…” She caught her breath, trying to focus on his words. “Nay, I didnae bleed. Treenis saw to that.”

  “Treenis?” He was frowning again.

  “He’s my little—well, mayhap no’ so little—friend. Treenis has stretched me, made me able to accommodate yer—yer…” Blessed Virgin, why could she not say it without blushing? “Yer cock,” she whispered, dropping her gaze to his lips.

  Which were frowning.

  “And who is Treenis? The diseased donkey’s arsehole who thought naught of taking what ye offered and leaving ye—”

  ‘Twas almost funny, his misunderstanding. Fighting a smile, she lifted one hand and pressed her fingers against his lips. “Nay,” she whispered, pressing herself up on her toes.

  He shook his head. Under her fingertips, he mumbled, “Tell me where to find this Treenis bastard, Lara, and I’ll kill the man.”

  Stifling a giggle, she pushed her chest against his and began to trace his lips with the tip of her index finger. Her lips inches from his, she murmured, “He is nae man.”

  His eyes widened. “A woman?”

  And unable to stop the chuckle, Lara surged up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

  ‘Twas an effective method of making him forget all. She’d have to remember this, once she got around to marrying the man.

  With a growl, Alistair’s arm dropped to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She’d always known she was a curvy lass, thanks to her berry tarts. But in Alistair’s arms, she felt perfect.

  The entire world felt perfect.

  His lips captured her moan, and his tongue teased hers. When she rocked forward, pushing her aching core against the hard length she could feel under his kilt, Alistair leaned against the desk, bracing them both. She could feel him growing and ground her pelvis forward.

  With a groan, he wrenched his lips away and dropped them to her jaw, then the sensitive place under her ear. His arm was still around her, but his other hand came up to cup her breast. Under the linen of her chemise and the wool of her kirtle, her nipple hardened, and when he pinched it through the fabric, she blurted his name.

  “St. Elzear’s cockring, lass,” Alistair panted against her skin, trailing kisses down to the top of her breasts.

  Dimly, Lara wondered what a cockring was, but didn’t have time to ask, because she was in very real danger of finding her pleasure right then and there. She ground her wet, aching center against his hard length, mewling desperately, as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  Her blood was pounding in her temples, louder and louder, until she was surprised her heart hadn’t burst. She could hear his heartbeat as well, drumming in time with hers.

  Thump thump thump thump thump.

  Alistair lifted his head, his breaths coming hard and fast.

  Thump thump thump.

  “God in heaven, Alistair,” she panted, arching against him. “I need…”

  Thump thump thump.

  ‘Twas the way he was staring at the stone wall which made her realize something was wrong.

  Her heartbeat was louder now, and so was his.

  Except…

  ‘Twas not a heartbeat, was it?

  Forcing her breathing to slow, and her lust under control, Lara slowly slid down his body. Still pressed against him, she turned her head to stare at the stone wall.

  Thump thump thump.

  Part of her wanted to ignore the pounding, to pull Alistair’s lips back down to hers, to continue what they’d started. But another part of her knew what was behind that wall and knew they wouldn’t have any peace as long as the damn drumming continued.

  “The ghostly drummer,” breathed Alistair. “I’ve never heard him so close.”

  “Really?” Despite his obvious arousal, ‘twas clear he was completely distracted by what was going on behind the walls. “I would think ye would’ve heard it here in particular.”

  He shook his head, straightening away from her, his attention still on the blue and green tapestry with the convenient sight-hole. “I’ve spent the last several years in this room, and I dinnae recall the drumming being so loud, or so close.”

  Accepting the moment was past, and that she would have to wait to find fulfillment—Treenis would oblige, for certes, if Alistair didnae—Lara straightened, trying to right her clothing. “The passage which runs behind that wall runs directly to—”

  She snapped her lips closed when he jerked his gaze back to her.

  “Passage?” he barked.

  “Aye.” She blinked. “The secret passage behind that wall.” Now that she could stand on her own two feet, she pointed. “It runs from the lower floors toward the bedchambers on this level.”

  “We have secret passages?”

  ‘Twas the incredulity and the wonder in his tone which made her smile. She knew something Alistair didn’t about Oliphant Castle? “Aye,” she drawled.

  Then he was holding her hand, tugging her toward the wall. “Show me!”

  And ‘twas one command she was happy to obey.

  Chapter 10

  Alistair found himself holding his breath as he led Lara to the stone wall. She reached the faded blue-and-green tapestry—the one which had hung there as long as he could recall—and lifted it out of the way.

  The section of the wall behind it looked exactly the same as the rest of the walls…until she pressed on it. When it popped open with a faint click, he realized what he was looking at was cleverly painted wood instead of stone.

  “By St. Elzear’s blessed big toe,” he breathed, running his fingertips along the lookalike stone. “ ’Tis remarkable.”

  Remarkable enough he almost forgot about his erection, which was hard enough to pass as one of the actual stones in the castle walls.

  Having Lara back in his arms had been divine, but he couldn’t deny that this mystery—and the revelation of a secret passageway behind his wall!—was distracting.

  Tugging her behind him, he pulled the entrance open wider and stuck his head into the passage. ‘Twas musty and dry, but with surprisingly little dust. And no ghost.

  “ ’Tis empty,” he murmured
back to her.

  Lara poked him in the back. “Dinnae sound so disappointed,” she teased.

  “I wanted to catch the ghost,” he confessed, straightening and turning back to her. “Ye were the one who suggested the ghost must be in the passageway. Mayhap the poor spirit recalls a time when the passageway was a regularly used part of the castle?” He peered down at her. “And how did ye ken of it, anyhow?”

  She shrugged, her lips bruised from his kisses, but her changeable eyes twinkling. “My mother is the housekeeper. We ken things.”

  “Like secret passageways,” he stated blandly, studying her. “Ye kenned there was an entrance to my solar?”

  She spun away from him, grabbing the lit candle from the desk.

  When she turned back to him, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and shifted his weight so he was blocking the door to the passage, then frowned at her. He had a feeling she meant to avoid answering his question.

  “What?” She held up the candle. “I ken my way through them in the dark, usually, but I figured ye’d want a light.”

  “Lara, how did ye ken there was an entrance to my solar?”

  She dropped her gaze to his chest. When she started chewing on her lower lip, he knew she was waging war with herself. So, with a sigh, he reached for her, taking the candle in one hand and pulling her against him with the other.

  “Love,” he murmured against her hair, “ye can trust me.”

  Mayhap ‘twas easier to confess with her face pressed against his chest. He heard her mumble, “I told ye I’ve loved ye for a long while, aye?”

  “Aye.”

  She shifted her weight. “Well, sometimes—no’ often, ye understand—but sometimes…” She pushed away just far enough to sigh and look up into his eyes. “I’d come here and watch ye. I dinnae mean to be creepy about it, but…I loved watching ye.”

  A cold feeling crept through his veins at the things she might’ve seen. “What did ye watch me do?”

  “Work, mostly.” She sighed again and lowered her cheek to his chest. He wasn’t sure how he felt about being spied on, but he dropped his chin to her head. “ ’Tis how I kenned ye worked too hard, Alistair. I watched ye. Ye mutter when ye’re doing maths, did ye ken that?”

  Nay, he didn’t. “What else?”

  She shifted. “I’ve seen ye doing yer calisthenics.”

  St. Elzear’s elbows, he did those naked! “I only do that when I cannae get out to training,” he quickly explained. “I’m no’ some kind of—of—”

  “Of overworked stand-in laird?” She shook her head and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I ken I should be sorry for spying on ye, Alistair. And I never wanted to make ye feel uncomfortable. But…”

  He glanced from the woman in his arms to the empty, beckoning passage. “But?”

  “But I cannae be sorry, no’ really. I loved seeing ye try to do something to relax.”

  “And naked?” he said drily.

  She straightened to grin mischievously up at him. “ ’Twas fodder for my fantasies, ye ken. I used to imagine yer hands on me when I touched myself.”

  Her confession went straight from his ears to his cock. He swallowed thickly. She’d touched herself, imagining ‘twas him?

  Just like ye touched yerself right here in this room, a sennight ago, at her command. Ye imagined ‘twas her touching ye then, aye?

  Aye. And he’d done it thrice more since then.

  But…

  “And Treenis?” That bastard had a lot to answer for.

  She grinned. “Aye, once I kenned what ye looked like naked, Treenis brought me even more pleasure.”

  The growl was already growing in Alistair’s chest when she tugged him toward the passageway.

  “Now, come along. I’ll show ye the steps down to the level of my chambers.”

  The way he was feeling right now—the way his cock was feeling—meant being near her chambers might be a very, very good idea.

  Because, as she pulled him into the darkness and the door swung shut behind them, Alistair wasn’t thinking of this new adventure, nay. He was thinking of his hands on her.

  “Lara,” he growled, reaching for her. The candle in his hand was the only thing keeping the darkness at bay, but he didn’t need light to see her. Not when he could feel her.

  Using his body, he trapped her against the wall, his free hand dragging up her side until he skimmed across her breasts and cupped the back of her neck.

  “Aye, Alistair?” She was breathless. Good.

  He lowered his head until his lips were inches from hers. “When I make love to ye, ye willnae be thinking of that bastard, will ye?”

  In the light of the candle, he could see her eyes, hooded with passion. “Nay,” she whispered, then licked her lips. “I want ye, Alistair.”

  “Good.” He sealed the promise by slamming his lips down atop hers, pressing her against the wall. St. Elzear’s tibia, she managed to taste better each time. But he didn’t give either of them time to enjoy it before he was pulling away, leaving her swaying with need. “Remember that, Lara.”

  “Aye,” she whispered, and he smiled arrogantly.

  Nodding firmly, he straightened and set off down the passage. She called after him, but it wasn’t until he heard her steps and felt her hand on his arm that he stopped.

  “Ye’re going the wrong way.”

  He glanced into the darkness in the direction he’d been going. “ ’Tis a secret passage. How could there be a wrong way?”

  “There’s a wrong way if ye’re goal is to end up in my chambers.”

  He raised a brow, unable to deny the appeal. “Ye have an entrance to the passages from yer chambers?”

  “Aye.” She took his hand and began to lead him back the way they’d came. “ ’Tis how my mother leaves at night, when she…”

  Lara trailed off, and Alistair grinned, guessing what she wasn’t saying. “When she visits her secret lover?”

  She sniffed. “Aye.”

  “Who may or may no’ be my father?”

  She shot him a glare over her shoulder as they reached a corner in the passage and turned to the left. “I dinnae need to think of my mother’s lover being my laird, aright?”

  By his calculations, they were following along beside the bed chambers now. He shrugged. “But another lover would be fine?” He peered at the dimly lit walls, looking for other doors.

  “Thinking of my mother in any man’s arms is no’ something I want to think about at all.”

  “Moira!” The moan shuddered through the passageway.

  She frowned over her shoulder at him. “No’ funny.”

  But he merely lifted a brow. “ ’Twasnae me.”

  “Moira, lass, ye’re killing me!”

  Since Lara was looking right at him, she had to know he hadn’t been the one uttering such passionate moans. The moment Alistair wondered if she thought it might be the ghost, her eyes widened.

  “The candle!” She lunged for him, hissing, “Block the light!”

  He cupped his hand in front of the flame, and the two of them stood in the semi-darkness, chests rising and falling rapidly as wet, lurid sounds swept around them.

  “Blessed virgin,” Lara whispered, dropped her forehead to his chest.

  Alistair’s mind jumped ahead. “We’re near the bedchambers, are we no’?”

  With a sigh, she pushed away from him and jerked her chin down the passage. They crept forward, coming nearer and nearer to a sliver of light. When they were upon it, Alistair sucked in a breath. ‘Twas a door, open just slightly, through which moans emanated.

  “Moira, ye must let me—”

  “Aye! Aye! Please, my love, now!”

  The couple on the other side of the door likely wouldn’t have noticed Alistair and Lara even if they carried a full candelabra and were playing the pipes…but there was no need to tempt fate. Alistair stepped away from the opening, and Lara followed a little faster than was natural.

  They were beyon
d the next bend before he felt safe removing his hand from in front of the candle flame and glanced at her. He expected her to be blushing, but she was grinning.

  “Lara?”

  “Aye?”

  “I hate to tell ye this, but I suspect my father and yer mother might be lovers.”

  She giggled, and his heart lifted at the sound.

  “I’ve suspected they might’ve been lovers for a while,” she confessed, as she tugged him onward. “Mam has been sneaking away from our bed since I was a girl. She always locks our door from the inside, but sometimes I’d wake up and she wouldnae be there. Since I’ve gotten aulder though, she’ll often disappear for the entire night.”

  He hummed. “And where else would she go, but to a chamber with an entrance to the secret passageway, where she could spend the entire night?”

  “Still, I dinnae like to think about it.”

  “I do,” he confessed.

  She sent a skeptical glare his way. “Then ye’re strange. Here’s the steps, be careful. They’re little more than a ladder really.”

  He watched her descend, then followed quickly. “I dinnae like to think of them together together, but I like the idea of my father finding love again. I was speaking with him about it, and he told me some interesting things.”

  “About making love to my mother?”

  “Nay, ye daftie,” Alistair reprimanded with a chuckle. “About love.” He remembered what Da had said about the lasting kind of love, about caring for a woman who made him laugh and kept him in line, and Alistair wondered if that’s what he’d been lucky enough to find with Lara. “About forever.”

  She was quiet for a long moment, but her grip on his hand tightened. Finally, she said, “Are ye sure ye dinnae want to discuss love-making?”

  “Why?”

  She pulled him to a stop. “Because this is the entrance to my chamber. We ken my mother willnae bother us for the rest of the night, and there’s a big, comfortable bed on the other side of this door.”

  Chuckling, he reached for her. This kiss wasn’t hard and fast, but slow and sweet. Her arms went around his neck, and she was playing with the hair on the back of his head by the time he pulled away.