Her gaze bounced down his body. “You could probably get away with it.”
He meant to laugh, after all she must be jesting. But the heat in her expression, the way her eyes flickered darker and more intense, had him wanting to kiss her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Too bad.”
She glanced up, a question in her one arched brow.
“Ye didn’t mean it, did ye?”
She swallowed and stared at his chest. Too hot élan shot through every single one of his muscles, especially his groin.
“I’m sorry too,” he said.
“What for?” Her dark eyes focused on his gaze once more.
As much as he wanted to apologize for Helen’s obviously making her uncomfortable with joking about a wedding, he couldn’t, didn’t dare, tell her much more than that. He already felt he was too translucent with his sentiments regarding her. Was she at that second looking straight into his heart?
He stretched his neck a little, hoping to gain the clarity needed to say what needed to be said, and nothing more. “My ma. She’s a joker, eh? This mornin’, jestin’ about . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t say one more damned word. Too much a coward to continue.
Fleur’s golden skin sizzled into a light pink on her cheeks. “You sure she didn’t mean it? She was just joking around?”
He nodded.
But she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Aye,” he finally said, “she was jesting.”
“Because she wouldn’t want me as her daughter in-law.”
“Nay.” He spoke too loudly, and cleared his voice again. “Nay. Never. She loves ye.”
Fleur’s gaze cut to his so fast, with such impact, he felt it kick in his gut. “I—I love her.”
It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but feel jealous about Fleur’s sentiments toward his mother and not him. He ground his teeth.
“I’m so glad she’s better.”
“Aye.” His voice was deeper and darker than he meant it to be. “So I suppose ye’ll be goin’ soon, eh?”
“I don’t know.”
He grunted. Again, the sound was much more hostile than anything he’d meant. Or was it? Lord, it wounded him that she’d kissed him, just this morning she fondled him, and it had meant nothing to her.
“I’m sorry—sorry about this morning.” Once more, she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Well, that was proof, wasn’t it? He meant nothing to her. Hell, he should be grateful, because what man didn’t want a woman whom he could desire, but not want him to make vows to her, to marry her, to protect her, to provide for her? He was such a stupid man.
The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Because ye didn’t mean to touch me like that, eh? Because it doesn’ mean anything to ye.”
If he thought her brown eyes had darkened before, they were pure black storms now. “Doesn’t mean anything to me?”
“Aye.”
“Doesn’t mean anything to me?”
“Aye.” He raised his voice again.
Carefully, she bent over and placed the bundle of white knitting into a large canvas bag she’d stored in the corner. But she straightened in a flash and bore him with her angry gaze.
“You think me some kind of jezebel?”
Well, he hadn’t seen that question coming, and he stood there mute, probably with his mouth agape too.
“You do, don’t you? You think me some kind of slut who just fools around with men.”
“Nay.” His voice now, of all bloody times, was too quiet.
Faster than he saw coming, she stood inches from him, pointing a finger at his chin, but then retracting it with a wince. “You might not believe me, but I never, and I mean never act like that. I’ve never wanted a man the way I want you. I know I’m acting like a harlot, but I’ve never, ever done that sort of thing with a man before. What we did this morning—scratch that—what I did this morning I’ve never done. I know I attacked you. I’m sorry for it, now I’m even more sorry, knowing how you feel about me.”
The energy he’d felt earlier when she’d stared at his chest was nothing to the new, raw impetus that crashed into him as her words filtered through his mind. Again, he believed her. He’d come to discover that like him, she was a horrid liar. What she’d spoken was pure truth: she wanted him. And he’d gone and made a muck of it.
He’d never been that skilled at communication and decided to react instead. Besides, it wasn’t as though he could tell his body to slow down. She was under his face, her hot breath on him, so angry, so lovely.
He kissed her. Too hard. Stopping, he gauged her reaction.
She was confused with furrowed brows, but she didn’t prevent him from lowering his head again and softly feathered against her lips. Once. Twice. Then the third time he lingered, melting his lips into hers. She nibbled and licked her way into his mouth, and he let her, parrying with her tongue as they both moaned. He clutched at her waist, pulling her against him, realizing that she’d already made him hard. Feeling his erection pressed against her belly intensified his desire all the more.
Suddenly, she pushed against his shoulders, huffing on his face.
“No way, big guy. You can’t get off that easy.”
He didn’t know what she meant but would do anything to kiss her again.
“I—I’m feeling horrible now.”
“I don’t want ye to feel horrible.” He pulled her closer, then, finally, he cupped one of her breasts.
Her thick dark lashes fluttered closed as she moaned, her back arched into his hand.
“I want ye to feel good. Real good.”
She snapped her lids open and pushed his hand away from her soft globe. “Not before you tell me how you feel.”
He swallowed, feeling his passion pulse through his veins, making it difficult to concentrate. But something nagged at him to comfort Fleur. Reason slowly flowed into his mind. She worried about how he felt.
“Do you think me a slut?” Her words were whispered and breathy, with an edge of hurt, fragile tones.
“Not at all, Fleur.”
“Then why did you think what happened between us didn’t matter to me?”
He sucked in a gasp of air, so glad he was touching her waist, for she held him up without her awares. She was supporting him, because the answer he would convey hurt so much his legs were sure to give way.
“Ye—ye’re leaving. The fae will take ye away from me, back to yer time, and I thought—Jesus, I don’t ken what I thought. I—I was scared ye didn’t feel for me the same I feel for ye.”
She more than likely reached up on her toes, because her lips were again on his, pleading for him to open. Oh, he did. Their tongues met and mingled, but just as suddenly she stopped and was back at her own height.
“I keep forgetting to tell you that it wasn’t the fae that brought me here.”
“Nay, ye told me. When we first met. Ye said it wasn’t the fae, but ye didn’ ken what it was.”
“Well, now I know. It was the muses, Clio and Erato. Have you heard of them?”
He nodded, then shook his head. “Ye’re telling me that Greek muses have ye here.”
“Don’t sound so patronizing, and, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. And the god, Coyote. They’re the ones who put me here.”
Duncan blinked, not sure what to think about any of it.
Fleur made a derisive noise. “It’s no better than fairies transporting me here, is it?”
“I’m a Scot, lass.” He smiled at her and pulled her against him again, letting her feel his hardness. “I might not believe in much, but the fae...well, ‘twould be unpatriotic not to believe in them.”
Quietly she giggled. “But you believe me?” Her face turned serious in a heartbeat.
He kissed her softly, gently, then pulled away. “I do. It just—” He cut himself off, scared of what he felt, what he was about to say.
“It just . . .?”
Once more she must have reached up on her toes and planted him with a heady kiss. She grabbed one of his hands, then lifted until it rested back on her breast. He moaned. With his thumb, he traced her breast until he felt the peak of her nipple through her layers of clothing. She clutched at him when he rolled over it, bowing her body to his when he lightly pinched the tight pebble.
Words could no longer be sought. Thoughts could only be expressed through his actions, and all he wanted was for her to stay, sated so thoroughly she would beg to stay. His other hand found her smock’s lacings and began in a fury to untie the white ribbons. Her hands slid down his shoulders, grabbing around his brawny arms. She moaned as her wee fingers spread wide, making him feel so potently male to her female. Her blouse finally opened, revealing pale blue stays. Those ties, of course, were at her back. But, heaven must be helping, he found she’d tied herself loosely. Should he plunge ahead and scoop out her perfect breast?
He could hardly think straight, especially when her hands found his chest, and particularly skilled fingers flicked his own nipple. Lunging his tongue in her mouth, he reached down to her derrière, then lifted. She wrapped her legs around his waist just as he’d hoped. Finding the one solid stonewall of the house, he gently pressed her to it, hefting her a little more, so his face was even with her still covered breasts. He kissed down to her stays, when he heard Fleur’s breath accelerate. Glancing up slightly, he saw her tilt her exquisite head back on her tiny neck. Her lids fluttered closed again, and her hands channeled through his hair, pulling him closer. Adjusting his hold, he balanced her with one arm, while his free hand cupped her breast. She gave an appreciative moan, and that was welcome enough for him. Reaching over her stays, he extracted one of her breasts. The nipple contracted hard as he gently lifted it up and over her stays. The moment he caught sight of her budding berry, he fastened his lips around it, suckling her.
Her moan and the way her hips slightly bucked against him made him want to give her more pleasure. He lapped her nipple. Then tenderly, he bit the swelling bloom. She ground against him again, and he had to push her harder against the wall to keep her there. He released her breast only to do the same to her other. All the while he felt the heat from between her legs intensify. Lord, he wanted to know if she was already slick. Was he making her want him as much as he wanted her? His own erection was so engorged he knew it wouldn’t take much to make him come.
“Kiss me.”
Duncan at first couldn’t decipher the whispered words Fleur had said, he was so intoxicated with her high, round breasts.
“Kiss me, Duncan.”
Well, that finally settled into his skull. He pulled away from her nipple and looked up. She was staring down at him, her lids hooded, her eyes glassy and lusciously dark. God, he loved looking at her like this, her breasts perched above the stays, her nipples beading, her face flushing with need.
“Please, Duncan, kiss me.”
Instantly, he pulled her down his body, then planted his lips against hers. He obeyed her without thought, but as she pushed her tongue in his mouth he became aware that his plaid had somehow lifted and the only barrier between himself and she was a slight covering of one of her skirts. It was almost as if he truly touched her, he could feel her heat so thoroughly. He ground against her, moving the barrier slightly. The head of his penis was free and nestled against her love pearl.
“Oh, Jesus,” he grunted.
She rocked against him as she kept kissing his lips.
He grabbed her hips with both hands and ripped himself a few inches away from her.
“Jesus, woman.”
“What’s wrong?” she whispered and petted his cheek.
Feeling his whiskers against her soft palm was erotic enough, but add to that he’d been so close to heaven. He swallowed, trying to gain some sort of clarity. “We almost—”
“Yes.”
“But we’re—”
“But . . .?”
“But we’re outside. This can’t be right.” He huffed, wanting so badly to grind himself against her again. His cock was hard enough he knew it was pointed right at her, at her entrance. “We’re against a wall.”
She smiled and kissed along his ear, making his back arch dangerously close to her again. “Yes.”
“We can’t—against a wall.”
She stopped and looked at him. “Why not?”
He snorted. “’Tis...Well, it’d be our first time. Don’t ye want it...inside? On a bed? I should do this right. I should—”
She kissed him then, interrupting his thoughts. It was sweet and held such longing. She pulled away enough to say, “I’ve lived my whole life with shoulds. I don’t want to anymore.” One of her hands slid down his too sensitive body. In its wake, she left a trail of hot coals that ached to become inflamed.
He’d been the one to put a little distance between their bodies. Granted, it wasn’t much, but a couple inches meant he wasn’t buried inside her. However, her wicked dainty hand found his erection, putting all his best-laid plans somewhere hazy and out of reach. She descended his length.
“I want this,” she whispered. “I want this so much.”
When she ascended his hardness he pinned her to the wall, smashing his lips against hers. He had no way of fighting against her, no way to tell her that he wanted something more special for her—rose petals and silk, candlelight, and for him to lick her sex until she screamed out his name. He wanted to make her feel like a princess, to feel pampered and cared for.
Instead, he found himself beyond control as her thumb smoothed over the head of his cock. She guided him to her entrance, and he complied with only a slight annoying thought he should stop, should give her more. Slippery already, she was ready for him. But he just lingered in her opening, feeling he should do something, should say how much he already loved her, how he never wanted her to leave.
“Please, Duncan,” she whispered as she pulled on his hardness, forcing him to enter her a tiny bit more.
He kissed her again, then slid into her. So very wet, so very strong, and so very engulfing—that was how she felt. His whole body spasmed with relief and then desperation for more. She released such a primal noise, so raw and hungry, he thought about pumping into her, making this act fast and animalistic. But the nagging sensation came back to him. He should make this good for her. Holding still, he wanted her body to adjust to his. Her lips melded into his, her tongue in his mouth, then she pulled him with her legs. At that, he did begin to pump in and out of her. Each time a mounting pressure burdened him to continue, but something was not right, and he knew it.
He hadn’t told her what laid in his heart, that he did want to make vows with her, promising to love her the rest of his life, promising to protect her and provide for her. Promising to wind his life with hers. And he’d wanted to hear her say the same, that she would do anything to stay with him, that she would fight the muses and that god, because her heart belonged to him.
His mother might have teased about the wedding, but it was the kind of jesting where he knew his ma actually wanted the end result—for Fleur to be his, for his heart to be hers. He wanted that too.
“Fleur.” His whisper sounded crazed and too bearish.
She moaned and tilted her head back. “So good . . .”
It was so good. Duncan kept pumping, feeling her body tighten even more. More out of instinct than anything else, he once more adjusted his hold of her, and slid his hand between their bodies. Around the mass of his plaid and her skirts he found her sex, felt where he pounded into her and her swollen flowering bud. Swirling on it and around it, he felt her channel tighten all the more. She gripped onto his hair with one hand, with the other, her fingernails bit into his shoulder.
“Oh...Duncan . . .”
That was what he wanted. He wanted her callin
g out his name. So why did it feel so wrong then?
“Duncan, I...oh...I . . .”
“Aye, come for me, Fleur,” he whispered, leaning his head near hers, her breath mixed with his.
She opened her eyes and stared at him. He’d consider himself mad if he didn’t admit how much he loved the way her head swayed with every push of his hips, the way her pink cheeks glowed, the way her body clutched onto him. She did feel perfect, as if she were made for him. Only, he knew he hadn’t waited for the right moment, hadn’t made it special enough, hadn’t told her of his heart.
With her heated gaze focused on him, it was hard to keep eye contact, but he did. He should have looked away, should have stopped himself. But he kept on, feeling his own body begin to burn—too much pressure in his lungs, in his bullocks.
“I want you to come for me too.”
“Oh, I will, darlin’.”
“I love your eyes,” she whispered and feathered a fingertip around his brow.
His heart contracted, hoping she’d tell him how much she loved him too.
“Your eyes remind me of a sunrise. I love them.” Her lids fluttered closed, especially as he put a little more pressure against her clitoris. “So good. I don’t want it to stop.”
His legs were already feeling weak, and his one arm holding her was shaking. But, Lord, if she wanted it to linger, he’d give it a hell of a try.
Suddenly, her eyes bolted open once more. “Duncan?”
“Aye, my love.” Well, he’d been wanting to call her that, but the fact it had come out surprised both of them.
Her eyes widened, but flickered shut again. “Oh, God, it’s so good.”
“Aye.” It was deliciously wonderful. She kept tightening around him. He felt her stomach flutter. Lord, she was holding back, he knew it, but he didn’t blame her. Making love to her was better than...there was nothing to compare it to. It was too complete. Even with his nagging thoughts, and the sense he should have waited, he felt it too—that he was meant to make love to her.
Once more she opened her eyes and gazed at him. “Duncan...Oh . . .”
“Let go, my love. Come for me.”
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