How to Seduce a Scot

by Christy English

  His hands, gloved now in the black leather she loved, slid slowly down her arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Her heart started to hammer, and she gasped for breath as those hands flirted with the edge of her chemise along the tops of her thighs before he very slowly, very carefully, drew it off and over her head.

  Her body was on fire from the glancing touch of his leather on her skin. He did not touch her again right away, but took her hand and seated her on the high mattress with an almost courtly gesture.

  “Are you teasing me, Alex, now that your gloves are on?” she managed to ask.

  He smiled down at her and leaned close, his lips the only thing touching her temple. They grazed her skin, and he took her earlobe between his teeth. “As you teased me, stripping me of my clothes one thread at a time? Aye, lass, I might at that.”

  She laughed then, and his lips were on hers, his tongue delving into her mouth as she opened to welcome him. He devoured her, but drew back almost at once, very much in control of himself. She wanted him to lose that control—on top of her.

  She shook with need for him, and was gratified to see that his hands shook also as he knelt before her, his black leather drawing one of her silk stockings off, slowly. She raised one foot and caressed his bare thigh with it.

  He quirked a brow at her and smiled, bringing her foot to his mouth even as he leaned down to meet it. His breath was hot on her sole, and her second stocking disappeared under his hands. His mouth moved back over her arch, to the secret place behind her knee, to her inner thigh.

  When he was that high on her body, she fell back on the mattress, stretched out before him, not certain if he pushed her down or if she melted onto the bed of her own accord. But he rose over her, his breath hot between her thighs. “I would kiss you there,” Alex said. “But I can’t wait. May I have you now, and kiss you after?”

  She shook with the need for him. “I need you inside me, Alex. Hurry.” She heard the tone of command in her voice, and she thought to soften it, if belatedly. “Please.”

  He laughed and joined her on the bed. She sighed in pleasure as he raised his knee to part her thighs, and she wriggled against his heavy muscled leg. He kissed her deeply, running first one hand and then the other over her body, covering her breasts with his black leather palms. She shivered at the touch of that leather on her skin. It was far more delectable, far more wonderfully sinful than she had thought it would be.

  “You must always wear these in bed,” she said.

  “I’ll get a special pair, just for this,” he answered.

  “No,” she said, “I like these.”

  He groaned as one of his leather-gloved fingers played between the curls that rested between her thighs. She felt herself heavy and damp with wanting him already, and when he touched her with two fingers, she almost flew off the bed. He smiled a wolfish, pleased smile, and added a third to the brigade set to torment her with pleasure. She did not rise off the bed again, for he put his whole weight on her, and she was crushed by the delicious feel of him all the way down her body. He whirled his fingers against her one last time, and she came apart in his arms, screaming his name.

  She trembled as the pleasure crested a second time under the heavy press of his palm on her body. She shook and thought that she might lose the ability to speak at all, ever again. Not that she cared.

  She watched as the pleasure spiraled away from her, going back to the magic realm from whence it came. But, in spite of her sated joy, she was still unsatisfied.

  Catherine did not recognize her own voice in that moment, it was so deep and throaty. “Alex, I need you inside me.”

  Her husband needed no more encouragement. He slid inside her in one smooth motion. As big as he was, her body took him in greedily, as if it had been waiting for him since the moment he had left her that morning. She shuddered with a new pleasure as her body drank him in, and she milked him as he moved inside her.

  He tried to hold on to his usual calm, his usual focused patience, but then on impulse, she tightened her inner muscles around him and he groaned long and loud. “Witch,” he said against her hair.

  She laughed. “You love it, Alex.”

  “I do. God help me.”

  “Keep moving, Alex. I still need you.”

  Catherine raised her hips against his and squeezed again. He shook hard, and for a moment, she feared she had lost him. But he rallied and plunged into her, over and over, as a man possessed.

  Catherine gasped under the onslaught of his passion, her body accommodating him without her consent, without her conscious thought. She could no longer find the focus to press him with her inner strength, for he was battering away at her as the high waves pummeled the rocks during a storm. She shook beneath him, her pleasure building again, this time from a deeper place inside her, a place where all the joy in the world seemed to live.

  She screamed his name again, but this time he did not heed her, so bent was he on his own pleasure. It was his turn to come apart in her arms, and she clutched him close, one hand at his back, the other at his shoulder. Her legs went around his waist in an effort to draw him still closer to her. She cradled him with her slight body, her own pleasure beginning to recede, as the tide after a storm was through.

  She sighed against the softness of his hair, which had come undone from its queue and fell around them both in a dark curtain. “I love you, Alex Waters.”

  She would have thought that he had died, but he still breathed heavy against her. She did not expect a response, but it seemed he was not as far gone as she thought.

  “I love you, Catherine Waters. I will love you all my life and beyond.”

  “If the priests are right,” she said.

  He smiled, and she felt it against the soft skin of her cheek. He whispered in her ear, “They are.”

  Forty-two

  Alex woke to the sound of birdsong through the leaded glass windows across from the bed. The curtains had never been drawn, so the morning light filtered in gently through the diamond panes. His sleep-addled mind had a moment of fear that she had left him again, but then he felt her move beside him, and his fear receded.

  He had not taken the precaution of locking her in with him the night before, for he had been too sleepy to bother. Their lovemaking had also left him with the certainty that they were bound now together, for good or ill, for the rest of their lives. She would not leave him again. He was almost completely sure of it.

  He had also come to the conclusion that no lock would keep this woman in. He would have to keep her by his side with other methods—by loving her so well that she was too tired to leap from three-story windows. And someday, God willing it be soon, tie her to him with the children they would raise together in joy, far away in the Highlands.

  Thoughts of home led back to thoughts of Robbie and Mary Elizabeth, and what might befall them alone among the English. Now that he had his girl in hand, he knew his duty. He must return to them as soon as he might. No doubt his angel wished to see her mother and sister as well.

  His wife mewled a little in her sleep, like a kitten, and pressed against him as she stretched, waking slowly beside him. Her moss-green eyes opened, lit from within with what looked to be joy. “Good morning, husband.”

  He smiled at her, his hands finding her curves beneath the bedclothes. “Good morning, wife.”

  She stretched beneath his hands, and he thought to draw her under him again, but she had duties of her own, and it seemed she had remembered them. Their idyll, as brief as it had been, was over.

  “We must go home to Mama and Margaret,” she said. “I don’t know what they’re doing about the house.”

  “I have no doubt that Jim is reporting to Giles daily as he sees to the refurbishing of it,” Alex answered her, sitting against the bolster and drawing her up with him to lean against his chest. Her ear rested against his heart, and the war
m weight of her was a delight he knew he would never grow tired of. “Giles is a grand man. I’m glad I saved his life.”

  Catherine kissed him. “I’m glad you saved him, too.” A frown marred her beautiful face, clouding her moss-green eyes. “I fear he will be displeased with me.”

  Alex thought it odd that she might worry about her butler’s good opinion, but he knew better than to voice such a thought. “Why would he be?”

  “Because I ran away.”

  “Ah.”

  Alex stroked her hair where it fell in long, golden tangles down her back. She settled at his touch, relaxing again almost to the point where he thought she might have fallen asleep. He spoke low, in case she had slipped off. “I think Giles will understand that a young girl, alone in the world with no one to defend her, might occasionally make a wild gesture or two.”

  She leaned back and smiled sleepily at him. “I’m not alone in the world now.”

  He kissed her gently, with no desire between them, only love. “Not anymore.”

  He raised himself up from the bed, taking her with him, for he knew himself well. He had not long to linger before the heat that always flowed between them rose again to block his reason, and to shatter his reserve. He wanted her home, in a place he could keep her safe. Since he could not yet take her to the Highlands, he would take her back to the duchess’s house. In the south, it was the next best thing.

  “It’s time we go home,” was all he said.

  * * *

  The gown she had borrowed from Mary Elizabeth was salvageable by a decent lady’s maid, but since one was not present, Alex took his new bride into Oxford and bought her a new gown. He watched as the seamstress his uncle knew dressed his wife from the skin out in new finery, the soft lawn of her under things competing with the soft sprigged muslin of the gown she wore. The pelisse was some shade of green that went well with his angel’s eyes. Catherine was happy with a new bonnet and gloves on, which was all he cared about.

  With his new wife respectably clad once more, Alex hired a coach and four to get them to London as quickly as possible. He left Zeus resting comfortably in a decent livery stable, eating his weight in oats. The horse had served him well, and he would send a man to fetch him back on the morrow. After the madcap ride the gelding had carried him on the day before, the mount deserved a respite.

  Alex wished he might take a long, well-deserved respite with his hard-won wife, but he had not forgotten that her town house needed rebuilding, her mother and sister needed looking after, and Mary Elizabeth needed to be married off. Please God, before the summer ended.

  Alex pushed that last duty out of his mind, for he had no idea how on God’s green earth he was going to accomplish that. Though the men of the ton seemed less frightened of her than the men in Edinburgh had been, no one had made an offer for her. Not yet.

  As they drove up to the duchess’s house, it was Mary Elizabeth who ran out to greet them. “Thank God you’re home!” she said. “Mrs. Middlebrook has run away!”

  Alex sighed as his well-laid plans for a peaceful evening between his wife’s thighs evaporated like so much mist.

  * * *

  Catherine stood in horror outside the Duchess of Northumberland’s town house. All of her hope and joy seemed to drain out of her feet, just as the color drained out of her face. Had her mother fled in fear of the mortgage? Or was she on some wild chase with Mr. Pridemore? Catherine felt her nausea rise as Alex took her arm to support her.

  “Don’t look so stricken, angel. We’ll find her.”

  He meant that he would find her, for other than to chase down the North Road toward Gretna Green, Catherine had no idea of where they might look.

  She let Alex lead her into the house, grateful that she actually had him to lean on. She was not used to the luxury of a man at her side, but it was a good thing he was there, for her mind simply would not function. Like one of the great machines of the north after a Luddite had been at it, her mind had shuddered to a stop.

  Margaret ran to her in the middle of the grand entrance hall, her arms going around her waist.

  “She didn’t even leave a note,” Margaret sobbed, trying to suppress her tears and failing. “The footman saw her leave in Mr. Pridemore’s carriage yesterday.”

  Catherine forced herself to rally, and to set her own fear aside. “I am sure Mama meant to leave word,” she lied. “No doubt the note got lost in her reticule, and she only realized it once she had left London.”

  Margaret sniffled and wiped her eyes on her embroidered handkerchief. “Do you think so?”

  Catherine heard that her own voice was firm and warm, and hid all of her fear that was swiftly turning to anger at the sight of her sister’s pain. “I have no doubt of it.”

  “Do you think you might take a cup of tea, Miss Margaret?” Mary Elizabeth asked. “We have some sandwiches and cakes set out in the music room.”

  Margaret looked to Catherine, who nodded. “Go ahead and eat a little something, Maggie. I will be there directly.”

  Alex had been conferring in whispers with his brother Robert across the hall. Catherine turned to him as she drew off her gloves. Mary Elizabeth saw her wedding ring then, and before Alex could speak, his sister threw her arms around her. “Welcome to the family! I knew he would persuade you.”

  Catherine hugged her new sister back, and took the hand that Robert Waters offered. “You’re a brave lass to take this family on, mostly sight unseen. Mary Elizabeth may be wild, but she is nothing to our brothers Ian and David.”

  Alex laughed. “Not to mention our mother.”

  Robert and Alex laughed together for a bit. Catherine accepted her new brother’s kiss, but her annoyed gaze stayed on Alex.

  “Thank you for the kind welcome,” she said before she turned to Alex. “Why are you standing about and laughing? My mother is God alone knows where, and I must find her.”

  The front door opened and her mother stood framed in the doorway, a fur muff on one hand though it was almost June.

  “Darling, I’m home!” Her mother swept in with Mr. Pridemore behind her, carrying bags and packages. Two footmen followed behind as well, both their arms loaded down. “Put all those things upstairs,” she said. “The housekeeper can tell you where my room is.” She smiled at her gentleman friend as he relinquished her luggage to another two servants. “Staying with a duchess, no less.”

  “It is no less than you deserve, my dear.”

  Catherine heard that endearment and bit her tongue so that she would not scream in ire.

  At the sound of her mother’s voice, Margaret was in the hall like a shot, her arms wrapped around Mrs. Middlebrook as if she would never let her go.

  “What is all this? Why all these tears?” Mrs. Middlebrook asked.

  “You left no word. Where were you?”

  “Darling, I was only on a trip to Devon. Did the maid not tell you where I was?”

  “Which maid?” Margaret asked.

  “The tall one who changes my bed linens.”

  “That would be Claire,” Mary Elizabeth said. “I fear she speaks only French.” She shrugged one shoulder. “The duchess hired her to save her from Napoleon, or some such. Her English is still fairly poor.”

  “I am sorry, sweetheart.” Mrs. Middlebrook kissed her youngest daughter and led her into the music room as if she were in her own house, and not a borrowed one, once removed.

  Catherine thought that her head might implode. All the goodwill and joy had gone out of the day for her. All she could think of was getting her hands around her mother’s neck, and throttling her with every ounce of strength she possessed. Before she followed them to berate the erstwhile Olivia, Alex held her back.

  “Leannan,” he said, in the gentlest voice she had ever heard. “I know you are angry, but take a breath. Look at me.”

  She did as he asked
, and she found in the depths of his brown eyes enough love and compassion to assuage all she had never gotten from her mother, all she had not received daily since her father’s death. She knew that her mother loved her. She also knew that most of the time, her mother was thoughtless, if never intentionally cruel. She breathed deep and leaned against him.

  “I want to do her violence,” she said.

  He laughed a little. “She took your disappearance with much more equanimity,” he said. “She was the one who sent me after you.”

  Catherine looked into his eyes and saw that he was not trying to persuade her to change her mind, but only telling her the simple truth. “She did that, for me? She wasn’t angry? She didn’t condemn me?”

  “On the contrary, angel. She seems to know you as well as she loves you. She’s just a headstrong woman with no man to guide her.”

  Catherine rolled her eyes at that, and saw his smile.

  “Come and listen to her tale before you judge her.”

  Catherine did as he asked once more, and followed Mary Elizabeth and Robert into the music room.

  Olivia Middlebrook met her eldest daughter in the center of the room. She took her hand, and when Catherine left her hand in hers, she bent to kiss her. “I am sorry to trouble you, Daughter. I have apologized to the little one, too.”

  “She was worried and weeping, Mama.”

  “I know—as you would have been, if you were here. I should not have left at dawn with no warning. I should have left a note at least.”

  “Or taken me with you,” Margaret piped up, a scone doused in cream clutched in her hand.

  “I will remember that in future. Girls, come here.” Mrs. Middlebrook led Catherine by the hand to sit close to her sister, placing herself between them on the duchess’s brocade settee.

  “Girls, I went today without you to visit our home. Mr. Pridemore has been kind enough to pay off our mortgage with the bank. He has also been kind enough to ask me to become his wife.”