Sophy moved fretfully in his arms. “The party,” she murmured. “Anyone might come out here.”
“They might not see us in the shadow,” whispered Ranulf, his breathing heavily. “Or they might. Would you care?” He parted her gently and sank a finger into her, just an inch or two, and she gave a little cry of anticipation.
“Would you walk away? You seem to be ready for me.” A second finger joined the first, and she gasped. “Tell me you’re ready for me.”
“I—I’m ready. I want you now.” She ground against his hand, seeking more, and he obliged her, sliding in deeper, stretching her as she groaned deeply in her throat.
Ranulf chuckled. “I thought you might feel that way.” He gave her one last searing kiss, and then released her as she made a sound of disapproval. “Not to worry, my sweet, you shall have what you need,” he promised.
He glanced around and, grabbing a cushion from a nearby bench, led her to the parapet that separated the terrace from the garden. He turned her to face it, and she looked over her shoulder inquiringly as he placed the cushion on the dark stone. “Lean over, darling,” he said softly.
Her eyes widened for a moment, but she obeyed, placing her forearms on the cushion, her chest jutting forward and her hips canted up. Ranulf paused for a moment to admire her and then came up behind her, pressing his hips to her bottom, one hand reaching around to cup her breasts, his hands moving over her already tightening nipples. He bit gently at the nape of her neck and then slowly, so she could feel the sensual slide of the silk on her skin, raised her skirts again until her bottom was revealed. He pushed the fabric up on her back and then stepped back a few inches, running both of hand up her legs, caressing her inner thighs, stroking and teasing until she felt her knees grow weak and she clutched at the edge of the stone with her fingertips. She felt him move, and then jumped as she realized he had sunk to his knees and pressed his lips to the point between her thigh and torso. He held her steady with one hand, while the other played gently with the nub of desire between her legs.
“Ranulf,” moaned Sophy.
“Wait,” he commanded. Then she felt his mouth on her, his tongue laving the wet heat of her, circling and sucking, creating sensations that she thought must rob her of her sanity. She tensed as a cry rose in her throat, and he raised his mouth for one moment.
“They will hear you,” he warned.
She gave a sob of frustration as his mouth returned to her, leading her further down the path to fulfillment, then pulling back, leaving her always just short. His hand joined his mouth, moving gently in and out of her as his lips closed around what felt to her to be the very center of her being. Just as she felt the wave begin to crash over her, he pulled back and stood.
“Damn you, Ranulf,” she panted.
“We both need our satisfaction,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “Don’t move.”
She waited as she heard him unbutton his trousers and then he was behind her, one hand encircling her waist to hold her steady. She could feel his erection against her, sliding gently over her damp curls and the spot that ached for him.
“Please,” she said.
“Ask again,” said Ranulf. “I like it when you do that.” He slid his cock slowly between her legs, increasing her already swamping need. “You feel good.”
“Please,” she repeated, though a touch of temper had entered her voice.
“That’s very good.” He slid into her swiftly, in one hard stroke, filling her completely. His hand splayed over her bottom, then slid down to caress her thigh. He held her there for a moment, gasping, and then pulled out slowly, leaving only the tip of his erection inside her.
“Would you do something for me?” he asked.
“What?” asked Sophy dreamily.
Ranulf’s hands moved to open the tapes on the back of her dress. “Lower your bodice.”
Sophy did so, looking down at her breasts in the deepening twilight. They seemed fuller than they had been before, the tips jewel-hard.
Ranulf sank back into her as she raised up on her toes and canted her hips up, seeking greater contact. He leaned over her, his chest against her back, and nipped at her earlobe. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered. He held her hips firmly, pushing in more deeply as Sophy gave a yelp, hastily suppressed, of satisfaction. “Squeeze your nipples,” he said.
“What?” Sophy tried to turn her head toward him, but he stopped her with his cheek, keeping her facing forward. He pulled out slightly and waited a moment.
“If you want me, you’ll squeeze your nipples for me. You’ll see, it will feel delightful.”
“How do you know?” asked Sophy crossly.
He pulled out a bit more, and she tried to wiggle back. He stopped her, holding her hips firmly. “I know. Squeeze them.”
After a moment, Sophy, flushing furiously, obeyed him and raised her hands to her breasts, clamping down on them and squeezing firmly. She moaned as a bolt of desire shot directly to the point between her legs. At the same moment, Ranulf thrust into her deeply, pushing so far in that Sophy thought she must die.
“You see. If you marry me, you could have this every day,” said Ranulf, holding himself against her, thrusting in another sensational fraction of an inch. “Say you’ll stay at Spaethness.”
“I—I will,” gasped Sophy, giving way, unable to do anything but pulse around him as everything shattered. Ranulf came with her, spilling himself into her with a violence that surprised him.
Sophy sagged in his arms, gasping for breath. Ranulf pulled gently out of her, adjusting his trousers and allowing her skirts to fall back over her legs with a silken rustle. He drew her up, cradling her back against his chest, his hands cupping her still naked breasts, his fingers gently brushing her nipples. “So lovely, so sweet,” he murmured into her ear. She made a sound between a laugh and a sob.
“They’ll be looking for us,” she said.
He turned her to face him. “My father, if he is still about, doubtless guesses where we are. Your family must have some notion of our attraction to each other at this point. As for the others—” Ranulf shrugged, “I don’t care in the least what they think. Promise you’ll think on this, Sophy. I will speak to your father tomorrow. I doubt he will be surprised when I ask for your hand in marriage.”
“But—”
Ranulf cupped her chin in his hand and smothered her protest with his lips. “Must I convince you again?”
She dimpled. “I wouldn’t mind.”
He laughed. “We must go inside or I’ll have you on your back on these flagstones.” He reluctantly pulled up her bodice, fastening the tapes with gentle, unhurried fingers, and then turned her face toward the rising moon.
“You look as though you’ve been recently kissed—more than kissed,” he said. “But it only makes you more beautiful.”
“Will anyone know?” fretted Sophy.
“No, why would they? They will think you have been dancing too energetically, perhaps. Only you and I know what we have been doing. You go in first, and I will wait a bit. No one will guess.” Ranulf opened the door, and, after looking around briefly, pushed her into the room. He gave her a formal bow, but looked at her with such warmth in his eyes as he stood that her heart filled with it.
As Ranulf joined some of his other guests, Sophy stood for a moment, blinking in the suddenly bright candlelight, before making her way toward Harriet, who sat on a silk-covered chair across the room, speaking to Isobel.
“Lady Sophia?”
She turned at the sound of her name to see a woman she was not acquainted with smiling brittlely at her. She raised her eyebrows in inquiry.
“I regret we did not meet earlier, but my husband and I arrived late, and you were already dancing,” said the woman. “I am Davina Sheehy, Lady of Ardfern.”
“Ardfern? Oh, yes, one of the neighboring estates,” said Sophy. She realized suddenly how much she had learned of Spaethness in her brief time here.
“Yes, Ardfern.
” The woman said it as though it should have some meaning to Sophy, and she looked at her more closely. Davina was very beautiful, with fine white-gold hair curling away from her brow and eyes of a pale, icy blue. She was fair, slender, and looked almost ghost-like to Sophy’s eye, although the breasts that were amply displayed by her low neckline were very full.
“I beg your pardon. Have we met before?” asked Sophy.
“No, we haven’t. But I‘ve heard a great deal about you.”
Sophy’s brow furrowed. “You have? Do you visit London often, or the border counties?”
“Not at all. My family is from Dumbarton, and I was married out of the schoolroom to the Laird of Ardfern.”
“I’m sorry, I must be more than ordinarily dull tonight,” said Sophy cheerfully. “Why would you know of me?”
Davina stepped closer. “Do you think no one knows what you and Ranulf are up to? The whole neighborhood is talking of it.”
Sophy met her eyes, startled, and stepped back, appalled at the depth of dislike she saw there. “I have no idea what you think you know, Lady Ardfern, but, I can assure you, the neighborhood need have no concerns for me. Nor should you.”
“Insolent girl,” snapped Davina.
“You are scarcely older than me,” said Sophy. “I see no reason why you would think me a mere girl.”
Davina sneered. “Do you think you are the first he has seduced? Last year it was me, and heaven knows who else. His name is a byword among the ladies from the Border to Inverness.”
“I have very little interest in your doings with Colonel Stirling, Lady Ardfern,” said Sophy distantly.
Davina stepped closer. “I can smell him on you—you reek of him. Did he have you just now on the terrace? He likes that, you know. He took me once outside in our garden, while my husband slept in a chair in the drawing room.”
Sophy raised a hand to her throat, feeling sickened by the other woman’s words and tone. “Lady Ardfern, collect yourself. These are not things you should be telling me.”
Davina’s lip curled. “Do you think you’ve taken him away from me? He’ll come back—he strayed last year, but he found his way back to my bedchamber. He’ll not marry you, if that’s what you’re thinking. He means to marry a comfortable widow, who will bear him an heir and turn a blind eye to his amusements.”
“Colonel Stirling is not yours, nor is he mine to take,” said Sophy firmly. “Whatever dealings I may have with him are my affair, not yours.”
“Your affaire, indeed,” hissed Lady Ardfern. “Don’t think you’ll hold him, Lady Sophia. You’re far too inexperienced to hold his interest. He may amuse himself by deflowering a gently bred lady, but he’ll not be intrigued for long. Soon you’ll be just another of his women, whom he can pick up or put down as he chooses.”
Sophy stared at her, wondering how to break away, when she saw the door to the terrace open and Ranulf enter the room. A look of relaxed pleasure covered his face, but when he looked about the room and saw Sophy speaking to Davina, he scowled and made his way toward them. Sophy froze, not knowing what to do.
“Lady Ardfern, how nice to see you,” he said calmly. “Allow me to escort you to your husband.”
Davina gave Sophy a triumphant glance and turned to him, a flirtatious smile on her lips. She leaned forward to give him an excellent view of her bosom. “Ranulf, dear. How I’ve missed you,” she purred. “What a pity you have so many guests and we cannot visit more.”
Ranulf smiled back at her and took her arm. “I believe your husband wishes to speak with you,” he said, stressing the word husband slightly. “Excuse us, Lady Sophia.”
Sophy watched, stricken, as Ranulf led Davina away. Not waiting to see where they went, she turned on her heel and strode to where Harriet sat, fanning herself and contentedly watching the dancers.
“Mama, I have a headache,” she said. “I am going to go to my room.”
“Oh, what pity!” Harriet stood and looked at her closely. “You are flushed, my dear. But must you go? The music is so beautiful, and you haven’t danced with Colonel Stirling yet.”
“I—I have no need to dance with Colonel Stirling,” she said, reflecting that she had already done a great deal more than that with him. “Please, don’t make a fuss. I will slip away and will scarcely be missed. I will see you in the morning.”
She dropped a kiss on Harriet’s cheek and made her escape. Once clear of the drawing room, she ran for the stairs and made straight for her bedroom, fighting back tears. Everyone seemed to know about her connection with Ranulf, from his servants, to his father, to his mistress. How had she allowed this happen? She felt a rush of agony as she thought of what she had allowed him to do to her on the terrace, and the words he had wrung out of her. Marriage to such a man would be a misery. He would manipulate her as he chose, giving her pleasure, but even more pain. She ran into her room, closing the door behind her. Silently, without ringing for Wallis, she undressed and crawled into bed, her thoughts in turmoil.
Hours later, as she lay awake, silently staring at the ceiling while the last embers died in the fireplace, she heard a soft knock. She sat bolt upright in bed, staring at the door.
“Sophy?”
It was Ranulf’s voice.
“Sophy, are you awake?”
She raised her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs, staring out into the dimness. She could see a flicker of candlelight under the door and pictured Ranulf on the other side of it, his dark eyes and handsome face, his broad shoulders under an elegant evening coat. She pictured again their encounter on the terrace, and felt her cheeks grow warm.
“Sophy. Please, open the door. I wish to speak to you.”
There was a long silence, and then he spoke again. “Did the Lady of Ardfern say aught to upset you? You should not listen to her if she did.”
Sophy sank back into her pillows, a bitter smile on her face. She had almost given in to the impulse to open her door, but his words halted her. It would not do to make a fool of herself twice in one night, and she had little doubt what would happen if she allowed him to touch her.
“I hope you are asleep, my sweet. If not, know that I am thinking of you.”
Sophy heard Ranulf’s steps move away, and watched the glow of the candle fade from under the door. With a sigh she turned her face into her pillow, fighting back tears.
Chapter 25
When Glencairn strolled into the stables the next morning, he found Ranulf already there, busy conversing with the head groom as one of the others tacked up his big bay. The colonel looked up, and nodded at the earl.
“A horse for his lordship, Sandison,” he said to the groom.
Sandison tipped his cap, “I’ve a fine gray for you, my lord. Let me have one of the men bring him out.”
Soon, a well-built horse appeared, led by another groom, as Ranulf and Glencairn discussed the quality of the oats that were ripening in the fields and the size of the first hay cutting. Minutes later both of the men were mounted, and walking their horses out of the stable yard. The hills of Argyll rose in the distance, a purple-grey mass behind the rippling gold of the early ripening oats in the fields they rode along. A few high clouds occupied the pale blue dome of the sky, but the sunshine was bright enough on the dark wool of the men’s riding coats to make them warm in spite of the slight dampness in the early air. They trotted along in silence for a few moments, only the sound of the horse’s hooves on the farm track and slight creaking of a saddle or jingling of tack competing with the singing of the birds.
Ranulf brought his horse to a walk and pointed to the edge of the oat field, where row upon row of low plants with coarse green leaves a foot or more high were to be seen.
“My father doesn’t know I planted these swedes here,” he said. “He’s very much opposed to these modern ideas about crop rotation, but the soil of Spaethness is not the best, and the home farm and the tenants both need to get every bit of use out of the fields that we can.”
“Bet
ter farming methods are good for the landholder and the tenants,” Glencairn agreed. “It’s a pity that your father can’t see it, but you are doing the right thing. He’s fortunate you have taken such an interest even though you are so new to managing the estate.”
“It’s like being in the army and taking care of my men,” Ranulf replied. “I need to do the best thing for the tenants, just as I did for the troops.” There was a companionable silence as they moved on for a few minutes, and then he spoke again. “I have enjoyed having you and your family here at Spaethness.”
“Lady Glencairn has certainly been overjoyed to see her ‘romantic Trossachs,’” Glencairn responded. “The rest of us have enjoyed it as well. It’s good for my children to see other parts of their homeland. “
Ranulf slowed his horse to a walk and cleared his throat awkwardly, running a finger under his neckerchief. “There is one member of your family who I hope might be interested in making Spaethness not just another part of her homeland, but her home,” he said obliquely.
He waited for Glencairn to reply, but not receiving one, Ranulf plunged on. “I’m sure you must have noticed the high regard in which I hold Lady Sophia,” he said formally. “I hope it will not surprise you to hear that I wish to pay my addresses to her.”
“I have noticed your interest in her for some time,” Glencairn answered. “I think you are a man of character and substance who would make Sophy a fine husband, and I’m sure that we would have no trouble coming to agreement on the settlements. I would be only too pleased to know she is eligibly settled not far from Glencairn, and her stepmother would be ecstatic to welcome you to the family.”
Ranulf smiled at these words, and clearly wanted to reply, but Glencairn held up a hand, before continuing in a serious tone. “However, although I am convinced she has a definite partiality for you, I’m not certain she will admit it to herself, let alone anyone else. I think it best that I mention your interest in making an offer to her before you declare yourself.”
The Highlander's Yuletide Love Page 18