A Question of Love (Questions For A Highlander Book 1)

by Angeline Fortin

  “I do want you.” She threw her head back, savoring the feel of his hot tongue as it dipped down into her cleavage.

  Francis groaned in frustration. “Eden, we’ve lost so much time together, so many years and I cannot see you openly here in town lest the gossips take hold and rumors truly start. I want you in my arms each night. I want to wake with you each morning.”

  “I want that too,” she whispered. After a moment’s hesitation, Evelyn threw her head back, giving herself over completely to the magic of his tongue. She never wanted to be away from his reach, away from his voice, away from the secure knowledge – if nothing else – of his love.

  She felt her skirts being drawn up and her pantelettes being torn by his willful hands. His lips crept along her hip bone and stomach before his fingers parted her and his tongue swept her center.

  “Francis! Here?”

  “Trust me,” he whispered huskily. His tongue plunged into her and out again, swirling around the tiny nub of pleasure before drawing it between his lips and suckling lightly. Again and again his nimble tongue laved her, encircled her, until her knees were buckling and she was clutching his shoulders for support.

  When her thighs started to quiver, Francis drew back, ignoring her squeal of protest. He rose and pulled her with him, lifting her completely off the floor. He held her securely, feeling her against him and passionately nipped and sucked on the sensitive flesh of her neck. He pushed her up against the wall, pinning her there with his big body. He kissed her deeply, losing control of his passion as he always seemed to with her. His hands trailed up her bare hips, lifting her legs so that they wrapped about his waist.

  Evelyn held him tightly with her legs, her breath coming faster. Her body was aching with arousal awaiting his possession. Her fingers bit into his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer still. Big hands moved over her bottom, his fingers slipping into her, teasing her and stroking her until she was again in the midst of a passionate whirlwind. Little screams and cries escaped her as the frenzy took her breath.

  When he lifted her up and set her down on his manhood, her startled cry turned into a deep moan. He pushed her back up to the wall, driving into her over and over as his hands supported her, spread her for his invasion. Her hips moved back against him, driving them both nearly insane. He pushed into her harder, faster and faster, over and over, until she was screaming against the passionate torment. His harsh cry mingled with hers as his huge body collapsed against hers.

  Francis stayed there for several long moments until he managed to control his heavy breathing. Unhooking her ankles from behind him, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the sofa. Evelyn opened her eyes as he set her down and smiled lazily, inviting him to join her there.

  Francis complied, stretching his big body out next to hers, feeling intense satisfaction as she curled up next to him. Resting his large hand on her hip, he grinned ruefully down at her. “Now that was romantic seduction at its best.”

  Evelyn chuckled and shook her head against his hairy chest, curling her fingers in his hair. “The very best.”

  She turned and Francis followed, spooning his body to hers. His chest to her back. Wrapping his arm about her waist, he buried his face in her loose hair. “You're mine.” Damn, Vanessa and whatever madness she had planned, Francis thought. He would not let her come between Eve and him. After a long moment, his deep voice cut softly into the silence once more. “I love you, paradise.”

  Her heart warmed at the words and she snuggled closer to him. “I love you, too,” she replied with sincerity.

  “No more talk of leaving?”

  “For now.”

  “If I cannot persuade her to leave by the end of next week, I shall go with you to England,” Francis offered.

  “Truly?”

  “Aye. Without us here, Nessa will have no reason to spew her venom. I will stay there with you as long as it takes for her to give up this mischief and leave.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and savored the peace between them. “Marry me.”

  Eve still shuddered a bit at the thought. “No. I told you why.”

  “And I told you I would never try to change you, my love.” He nuzzled her neck. “I love you just the way you are. Marry me and be my partner, my mate.”

  "We’ll see."

  “Then at least come up to St. Andrews with me this week’s end. If nothing else it will give me a chance to see how badly you play golf,” he teased.

  “Oh, you’re going to regret those words!”

  Chapter 33

  Glenrothes Manor

  St. Andrews, Scotland

  Francis lifted Eve out of the closed carriage and ran up into the manor, doing his best to get her there before they were both drenched by the rain. “I can’t believe it rained today of all days,” he muttered, as he slipped on the wet steps from the drive. “Stop laughing before I drop you in the mud!” Eve could only laugh more and clung to him as he carried her into the sitting room.

  Francis’ ‘small house’ was truly more of a manor on a tract of nearly 300 acres south of St. Andrews township on the coast. The house itself was recently built and indeed small by the standards of the Earl of Glenrothes, having only eleven bedrooms. Its construction had been one of the first things Francis had done after receiving the earldom and the bedroom suites were for each of his siblings when they cared to make use of them. It was lovely and cozy, with none of the airs found in the homes of most nobility.

  Eve was thankful for the respite from Edinburgh. The remainder of the week since their talk had been a long and trying one for Eve. It seemed everywhere she went, Francis’ ex-wife was there be it musicale or tea. Vanessa cut Eve directly and spouted her tales of woe to all the matrons of influence. Though most were still reluctant to think ill of the beleaguered Glenrothes and the terribly proper Countess of Shaftesbury, some brows had begun to raise in her direction. Eve had been glad to run from her difficulties for even a single day.

  They had made the short train trip to St. Andrews, separated by the necessity to appear apart in the eyes of the other passengers, while sharing provocative looks from rows apart. The rain had started by the time they had reached the course and Connor and Fiona had not yet arrived either as Francis had wired asking them to.

  Instead, they had rented a closed carriage to bring them to the cottage to wait out the storm and, Eve thought it necessary to add, to wait for their chaperones before they showed themselves in public as a couple again.

  Francis lowered her into a large chaise in the parlor, nuzzling her neck as they went.

  “Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?” He nipped her earlobe.

  “A half dozen times at least. Of course, you didn’t actually say it but once this morning, though your eyes spoke volumes on the train.” She clenched her fingers in his damp hair and pulled at him to meet her in a tender kiss. Their parted lips played together, deepened as their passions rose. Would they ever get enough of one another, she wondered.

  “As did yours.”

  “I probably look a fright now.”

  “You look enchanting. I would ask when you’ll stop wearing black all the time though,” he added, toying with the buttons on the high neck of her mourning gown.

  “It’s all I have right now, but I am having some new gowns made up.”

  “I can’t wait to see them.”

  “Francis, what are you doing?” she murmured as he started unbuttoning her wet bodice.

  “I thought that was fairly obvious, my love.”

  “Well! I mean right here?”

  “I mean right now,” he corrected.

  “But… but…” she stuttered. “Somebody might see!”

  “No one is just going to walk in, my love,” he assured her, as his hand snaked up under her skirts and drawers until he found her moist heat. He slipped a finger up and down, lightly enjoying her shudder of delight. His finger dipped inside just a bit and he stopped there, pressing his thumb lightly against her
nub as he curled his finger slightly.

  Her thighs tensed and she groaned with frustration when he did not continue. Pleased, he grinned down at her and rotated his thumb, pushing a second finger in with the first. “Do you feel naughty, my Eden, out here?”

  “Francis,” she moaned, tossing her head from side to side, trying to push herself up against his hand, but he kept her where she was and rotated his thumb once more. Already she was a throbbing inferno, lightly pulsing against his digits.

  “Shall I stop, Eden?” He withdrew slightly and chuckled when she clamped her thighs tightly, keeping his hand between them.

  “No-o-o-o,” she moaned, throwing her head back against the chaise.

  “‘No’ I shouldn’t do this?” he whispered in her ear and pulled his hand back just a bit. “Or ‘no, don’t stop’?” He pumped his fingers into her core once and then again, thrusting deep inside her.

  Eve screamed in her throat and pulled at him. “Francis! Please!”

  Amazingly, he resisted her plea. “Please don’t stop?” Francis nipped her neck and murmured against her ear, his breath harsh with his own want and desire. He rotated his thumb against the damp, swollen nub of her desire once more. “Say it, Eve.”

  “Do-o-n’t s-s-stop,” she stuttered, the tension building and spiraling in her belly and down her thighs as his fingers slid slowly in and out of her. “Francis, please.”

  “Please what?” he urged hoarsely. His own desire was already raging, desperate for release. “Say it, my love.”

  Eve shook her head in foggy denial even as she arched again and again against his thrusting hand. Say it? she thought wildly. She could barely think it, much less say it.

  “Please what, paradise?” he insisted. “Tell me.” His fingers dipped and retreated over and over as he loosened the fastenings on his trousers with his other hand. Freeing himself, he pushed her skirts up to her hips and positioned himself between her legs, still teasing her with his fingers.

  When he stopped, Eve whimpered and stared up at him. “Tell me.”

  “Take me,” she begged and Francis thrust home to the hilt. Both of them cried out in the glory of their union as Eve clenched around him. “Take me,” she whispered again, “take me, take me!” she chanted breathlessly as he pounded into her. “Oh my God!”

  Their harsh cries mingled as they came together, straining toward each other. Eve clasped him to her as she buried her face against his sweaty neck. For how long they lay there, Eve could not guess. Minutes, days, years. Connected to one another, content in one another.

  “Francis? Are you here?” a deep voice came from the hall.

  “Who's that?” Evelyn whispered, caught in frozen dread.

  “Connor, I assume,” Francis answered nonchalantly.

  “You're joking. You said no one was expected.”

  “I said no one would walk right in.”

  “Francis?” a lighter female voice questioned this time.

  “You're not joking!” Evelyn whispered with a squeak. “For Christ's sake, Francis! Get off of me!”

  “Why?” came the infuriatingly calm question.

  “Because they will see us!” she told him, as if she were talking to a child.

  “So?” He caught her frown. “Oh. Well, in that case…” He stood abruptly and refastened his breeches. “Connor! Fiona! In here!” he called, grinning down at her.

  “Oh!” she squealed scrambling to straighten her clothing. “I’m going to get you for this!” was her furious threat. “Why didn't you tell me someone was coming right away?”

  He shrugged. “I left a message for them to meet us here. And even if it weren’t them, who did you think was going to cook for us?”

  Evelyn punched him in the stomach and sat down in a big wing chair that faced away from the door and hid herself in it as the earl faced the couple who came into the room.

  “Francis!” Fiona skipped across the room and threw herself into his arms.

  “Hullo, Blossom,” he squeezed her tight and held a hand out to his brother. “I was expecting you down at the course.”

  Connor just shrugged. “Sorry, we were running a bit late then got caught up in the rain. Figured you’d come here until it all cleared up.”

  “We were able to occupy ourselves until you got here. I have brought Lady Shaftesbury down to play a round or two with us.”

  “I bet you’d like to play around with her!” Fiona snorted indelicately then squealed with embarrassment when Eve rose from the chair by the fire.

  Francis frowned at his sister who had the good grace to flush and look away. “My apologies, Lady Shaftesbury, I didn’t see you there.”

  “No need, Lady Fiona,” Eve came forward with an extended hand. “The fault is mine for not greeting you immediately. I must have dozed off,” she added in an offhand manner, ignoring the raised brow Francis levied upon her blatant lie. But even he seemed disgruntled by the situation now.

  Francis had never been privy to having conclusions drawn so swiftly about his actions and he was indeed displeased that those so quickly drawn disparaged the woman he loved. While this frenzied rush of lust and lovemaking had seemed to overwhelm them the past several days, this was not merely a sexual affair. It went far beyond simple sex. It was a meeting of hearts, not only bodies, and it suddenly infuriated him to think anyone would assume that about what was to him an earth-stopping love. He would have to have words with them, he realized, and set the record straight. Not only his siblings, but the couple he employed to keep the house. He would not have Eve frowned upon or thought of as a mistress.

  “We will try for a round… of golf… in the morning if it clears up.” Francis tried to shrug off the awkward moment. “We might as well tidy up and take dinner. I’m sure Lady Shaftesbury would enjoy a rest before then. May I escort you up?”

  “Of course.” Eve nodded to Connor and Fiona as she took Francis’ arm and regally ascended the stairs. Only when they had reached his room and shut the door did Eve sag against it and cover her face. “That was utterly mortifying, Francis.”

  “I’m sorry, my love,” he apologized. “It never occurred to me that anyone would see our relationship for anything other than the love it is. I will speak to them.”

  Eve merely shook her head as she pushed away from the door. “Still.”

  “Aye and what of your ‘dozing off’?” he grinned. “Do you think they bought that at all? That you were asleep?”

  “Why, yes Francis,” she teased, pushing aside her worries as she sidled closer to him, pointing a playful finger. “And you all interrupted my dream!”

  “What were you dreaming about?” Francis caught her hand and drew her finger into his mouth.

  Eve stared at him in fascination as his tongue whirled about her digit and suckled it. “A handsome prince.”

  He drew her finger out and proceeded to place a kiss on the tip of each remaining digit. “And his beautiful princess?”

  “Mmmm, and happily ever after,” she wavered, her eyes closing in rapture.

  “Happily ever after?” he frowned. Could he give her that? He would damn well try to even if things didn’t currently seem to be going their way. “What can the prince do to show his remorse for waking the princess?” he asked in a whisper.

  “He can kiss her, of course.”

  He leaned over until his lips brushed hers. “Kiss her? How? Like this?” He brushed his lips across hers in the merest caress. Already his heart was pounding faster. Unbelievable. “Or like this?”

  The kiss was searing. Evelyn's arms came up to wrap around his neck. “Most definitely like that.”

  Francis scooped her up and tossed her on the bed while she squealed in surprise. “Now scoot over and let me in. I am out to prove my love!”

  “What, no romance?” she laughed as she pulled him down over her.

  An hour later when they came down for dinner, an elderly servant met them at the bottom of the stairs. “Ah Martin. My lady, I would like you to
meet Martin. A long time retainer of the MacKintosh clan and a very good one, I might add.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” the rugged old man answered sincerely and indicated an equally aged woman in the doorway. “My wife, Agnes, my lady. She is the housekeeper for Lord MacKintosh at Glen Cairn.”

  Agnes curtsied before the countess with a show of some embarrassment, looking about the room as if she were uncomfortable with the situation. “My lady.”

  “Very good to meet you, Agnes.”

  “Thank you, milady. I hope ye're ready for a wonderful meal we’ve prepared for ye?”

  “Yes, I am very hungry,” Eve admitted lightly, realizing that the woman was uncertain how to treat her, her master’s mistress. “The trip, of course, was very trying.”

  Evelyn glared at Francis as he squeezed her side familiarly with a decidedly wicked smile. “I find I am also very hungry as well following our… journey. What say you, m’lady? Shall we go directly into dinner?”

  “That would be fine,” she gritted out behind her teeth.

  “How could you do that, Francis? You only made it worse for poor Agnes. Couldn’t you see she was already uncomfortable with the entire situation?” Evelyn complained stiffly as she toyed with her fork, after the two servants departed the small dining room. “How embarrassing for both of us!”

  Francis set his own silver down with a clatter and leveled her with a fierce look. “I am not ashamed of you, paradise, or of anything we do. I refuse to pretend that I am and would prefer to shout it to the world. I want to make you my wife, if you recall, so that I might show it every moment without any embarrassment for anyone.” He took a deep breath and consciously cleared his brow with a sigh to release his frustration. He reached over and took her hand in his. “I will try to be discreet in town and in public, but this is my home. I refuse to hide from it here with you. I love you, paradise.”

  Evelyn blushed and squeezed his hand in return. Just as she was about to speak, she spotted Fiona and Connor entering the room. From their high color, Evelyn guessed that they hadn't missed a word of what was said. She was horrified that Fiona, especially, had heard! What the girl must think of her!