When a Lady Kisses a Scot (Her Majesty's Most Secret Service)

by Tara Kingston

  MacAllister’s expression turned somber. “Portia Rathbone’s so-called bodyguard has been extremely talkative. There’s little chance he’ll avoid the gallows, but he’s desperate now.”

  “I understand Merrick’s sister has been cooperative,” she said.

  “You could say that. The woman realizes her neck is on the line, and she’s leveraging what she knows for a chance at leniency.”

  “I still do not fully understand Portia Rathbone’s motives. She truly did try to protect me, in the most bizarre of ways.”

  “She wanted to punish Merrick for what he’d done to her. Destroying his chance to carry out the foul scheme he’d plotted for years must have given her some satisfaction. I believe she anticipated one of us would kill him, and she’d have her final revenge.”

  “Such a web of evil.” Rose glanced away, studying the intricate design in the lace tablecloth. “If you hadn’t come when you did…if you hadn’t found me…”

  He placed a gentle hand over hers. “Darling, I wasn’t about to lose you again.”

  Her fingers moved to her throat, skimming over the bruised flesh concealed beneath her high lace collar. Without thinking, she searched for her pendant, the locket she’d treasured for so many years. And then, the bitter truth shot through her. The necklace her abductor had snatched away was lost to her forever. The thief had robbed her of her last tangible connection to her mother.

  Pain rippled through her, as real as the cut of a blade. Seeming to sense her anguish, MacAllister leaned closer and kissed her, a light, feather-soft caress.

  “Merrick can’t hurt you now.” MacAllister’s husky voice comforted her. “You’re safe. The men who abducted you are either in their graves or facing a very long time behind bars.”

  “It’s not that…I know I’m safe with you. It’s only…” Tears she didn’t want to shed stung her eyes.

  He searched her features. “Rose, you must trust me. What is troubling you?”

  “The blackguard stole my locket.”

  “Your mother’s locket,” he said, recollection gleaming in his eyes. “It was gold, with rubies and sapphires.”

  She nodded. “And now it’s gone forever.”

  “You cherished it,” he said softly.

  “It’s irreplaceable.” She blinked back tears. “The man who abducted me tore it from my throat. Heaven knows what’s become of it.”

  MacAllister scowled. “The filthy blighter.”

  “I’d hoped it might turn up after the criminals were apprehended. But that does not seem to be the case.”

  “I will retrieve it, Rose. You can count on me.”

  “I cannot imagine where it might even be. The scoundrel likely sold it to someone who will tear it to bits for the gems and gold.”

  “I’ll find it, darling. And I will bring it to you. No matter where you are.”

  “Oh, I do hope so.” She managed a smile. “Shall we speak of something more pleasant?”

  “What would you suggest?” he asked. “A discussion of literature, perhaps? I was much impressed by H.G. Wells’s recent work.”

  “The Time Machine?” She took a sip from her water glass. “I didn’t think you possessed a taste for fiction.”

  His eyes darkened with challenge. “At times, I enjoy a good novel. But at the moment, I’m considering a far more invigorating pursuit.”

  “Is that so?” She quirked a brow. “I suspect you may have something quite wicked in mind. I must admit, I am intrigued.”

  His seductive smile would’ve made Lucifer proud. “I’ll love you till the sun rises if you’ll stay with me tonight.”

  “A tempting proposition, indeed, Mr. Campbell.” She drank in the passion in his dark eyes. “Won’t that break some protocol or another?”

  “To hell with protocol.” He drew the tip of his finger along the slope of her nose, the gesture nearly chaste. Yet the fire in his eyes made it the most brazen of seductions. “We belong together, darling. Tonight. And every night.”

  She held his gaze. “Every night.”

  “Until I take my last breath.” He cupped his palm against her cheek, his breath warm against her lips as he leaned in to kiss her again. “I don’t ever want to walk away from you again.”

  Her hand resting lightly on MacAllister’s forearm, Rose accompanied him into the study in his comfortable town house. The warm woods and casually elegant furniture appealed to her. Somehow, it felt like home.

  Home. The word played in her thoughts.

  Where precisely was her home? She’d left Scotland so long ago, and now, everyone she considered family was an ocean away.

  Everyone, that is, other than MacAllister.

  When she was with him, her heart was content. She could stay with him in London or Scotland or on the blasted moon until the end of her days and never regret a moment spent in his arms.

  But what of the people who depended on her tavern for their livelihoods? She couldn’t abandon those loyal souls who’d been there for her in the hardest of times.

  Her heart wanted to be here with MacAllister. With every fiber of her being, she craved his touch and his passion and his delicious kisses.

  And yet, moment by moment, year by year, she’d constructed a life for herself.

  She couldn’t simply walk away, not even for a delectable fantasy.

  She couldn’t leave it all behind.

  But she could have tonight.

  She could have MacAllister in her heart. And in her dreams.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, studying her face.

  “A bit of nerves. Nothing more.”

  “Tell me the truth, Rose. I can see it in your eyes—what’s troubling you?”

  “Might I have a brandy?” she asked, attempting to change the subject.

  He poured the rich amber liquid into a crystal glass and handed her the drink. “Perhaps it is too soon.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You have suffered a trauma. I need to be patient.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing.” She sipped the liquid. “Truly, I’m well.”

  He poured himself two fingers of Scotch. “I’d find your words easier to believe if you didn’t keep glancing away from me.” He tipped up her chin. “Darling, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  She took another slow sip of the liquid. The brandy trickled down her throat, warming her. “I want this night, MacAllister. More than you know.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sipping her brandy, Rose mentally envisioned stripping MacAllister’s dignified attire from his lean, muscular body. The silk tie around his neck would be the first to go. And then, she would open his collar and press soft kisses to his throat. She’d slide his jacket over his broad shoulders, her fingers caressing the expanse of bone and muscle. Next, she’d strip away his waistcoat and see to it he shed his linen shirt, baring his powerful chest to her eyes.

  Passion darkened his eyes as he met her gaze. Had he read her wicked fantasy? Or had desire taken the reins of his own thoughts? How very delicious it would be when he finally unleashed the hunger she saw so clearly in his velvet brown irises.

  “Rose, I don’t want only this night.”

  Her stomach did a little flip. She swallowed against a sudden nervousness. “Very well. Then tell me—what is it you do want?”

  “I want you for a lifetime.”

  “And if that isn’t meant to be?” She took another sip of brandy, as if doing so might calm her racing pulse.

  The look in his eyes stirred her emotions more than a physical touch. “We are meant to be, darling.”

  “MacAllister, we are no longer young, no longer free. We each have our lives. Our responsibilities.”

  “We are meant for each other. How can you have any doubt?”

  “How can I not?” She struggled for the right words. “After all the years apart, how can I believe any of this is truly my destiny?”

  “Your destiny is with me. I’ll be true to you, Rose. Have you any doubt?”

&
nbsp; She gave her head a miserable shake. If only he would stop talking. If only he would kiss her and love her—pity he would not be content with what she could offer him. They’d have nights of bliss in each other’s arms. Until the morning she boarded a steamer for New York and returned to the life she’d forged with sweat and grit and tears.

  “I do not doubt your integrity,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved you for it.”

  He downed the rest of his drink and set the tumbler aside. “Integrity—is that what one calls walking away from the woman you love?”

  “We were so young then,” she said, taking in the intense emotion in his eyes.

  “You’re the lass who’s laid a claim to my soul. There’s been no other like you.” His words seemed a confession, warming her heart.

  “I could say the same of you. I’ve never let another man into my heart.”

  “Set down the glass, Rose.”

  “Very well,” she said, complying with his request. Meeting his eyes, she flashed a challenging little smile. “I suppose you are going to kiss me now.”

  “No.” The word came in a husky rasp.

  “No?” She did not attempt to conceal her surprise.

  Slowly, he shook his head. “That will come later. But first, there’s something I need to do.”

  “The anticipation is nearly too much to bear,” she teased.

  “This is long overdue,” he said, his voice edged with gravel. He caressed the curve of her face, his expression more eloquent than his words. His arms enfolded her, and he drew her to him. “I must tell you a truth of the highest magnitude—I love you, Rose. With every breath, with every beat of my heart, I love you more.”

  Her knees wobbled. She prayed her heavy skirts would conceal the slight trembling. “Oh, MacAllister, I love you, too.”

  His smile brightened his eyes, and he kissed her, a tender caress that propelled ribbons of pleasure all the way to her toes.

  Gently, he smoothed the rogue tendrils of hair away from her face. “There is one more thing—a question of great importance.”

  Her heart raced. “And what might that be?”

  Heat radiated from his touch. “My darling lass, what would please you tonight?”

  “I wish nothing more than to be with you. In your arms. And in your bed.”

  He swept her off her feet, cradling her to his body, a primal display of pure, masculine power. She twined her arms around his neck, savoring the heady sensation. She considered herself a modern woman. Independent. Capable. And yet, the feel of being held by him, of drinking in his strength, rippled a thrill through her body.

  Wicked promise darkening his eyes, he dipped his head, kissing her slowly. Taking his time, he stirred her passion to a boiling point.

  “After tonight, you will be mine,” he whispered against her lips. “Heart and soul. And I will be yours. Until my last breath.”

  “MacAllister, I have one request.”

  Rose’s gaze wandered over his long, muscular physique. How she wanted him. Hunger did not do justice to her intense craving for his touch and the sweet temptation in his kiss.

  His fingers stilled against her corset. Another moment, and his deft maneuvering would have her nearly bared to his eyes.

  A soft smile touched his mouth. “I am at your command, my darling.”

  Rising up on her tiptoes, she whispered against his lips. “I want to strip you bare.”

  She felt his muscles tense. Pressing closer to his fully clothed body, she canted her hips. As she suspected, he’d gone even harder at her words. His erect shaft rebelled against the confines of his trousers. Wouldn’t it be a thrill to free his rod and touch her fingertips to its length, to kiss its tip and feel him buck beneath her caress?

  His eyes heated at her boldness as her fingers slipped under his necktie. “This might prove to be even more enjoyable than I anticipated,” he said in a husky rasp.

  She tugged the length of silk from his throat and tossed it aside. Her fingers threaded through his hair, delighting in the texture of the silky strands against her skin. She willed herself to go slowly, to take her time, to savor every delectable moment.

  He cast his jacket aside, leaving him in shirtsleeves. Her hands moved to his shoulders, exploring the broad expanse beneath her fingertips. She unbuttoned his waistcoat and eased it over his shoulders.

  His eyes flashed with challenge, and for a moment, she thought he’d rebel, thought he’d take her in his arms. But he watched her with a blend of curiosity and sweet, wicked desire.

  “You do know how to drive a man to madness, don’t you, love?”

  She nibbled her bottom lip. “I wouldn’t claim to possess knowledge of that art.” Brushing her mouth over his, she smiled with unspoken challenge. “But I am learning.”

  “You’re in no need of tutelage.” He pulled in a low breath as she tugged his shirt free of his trousers. “It’s taking every ounce of control I possess to hold back.”

  Moistening her lips with a deliberate lack of haste, she swept her fingertips beneath the shirt now hanging loose over his waist, dancing over the ridges of his abdominal muscles.

  “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

  His body went taut. “Do you aim to woo me with flattery, lass?”

  “Something like that,” she said, easing the shirt over his chest.

  Baring him to her eyes.

  When they’d lain together, the room had been nearly dark. But now, a soft glow from the gas lamp cast hazy golden light over the contours of his chest, over his flat, firm belly.

  MacAllister was magnificent.

  And he was hers.

  All night long.

  As if he sensed her thoughts, he smiled, soft and seductive, even as she felt his muscles tense beneath her gentle touch.

  Ah, she wasn’t done yet. They had an entire night.

  She intended to make the most of it.

  Her hands moved lower, working the fastenings of his trousers.

  “Much more of this, and you will unman me,” he murmured in a husky rasp.

  She slowly shook her head. “I know you better than that, my love.” Tenderly, she slid her hand over the ridge of his erection, teasing him with gentle strokes. “You’ve always relished a challenge.”

  Beneath the wool of his trousers, his shaft bucked against her touch. “You could bring a man to his knees.” His voice was low. Raw.

  She flashed a look of challenge. “Perhaps that is my intention.”

  “I will worship your body, Rose.” Dipping his head, he kissed her, the most gentle of caresses. “Night after night. I’ll be yours.”

  The low flame in her core kindled to a blaze.

  “Will you kiss me?”

  His half grin melted her heart. “Aye. All bloody night.”

  He embraced her. Gliding his palms down the length of her back, cupping her bottom in his hands, he gazed down at her as if she were utterly precious to him.

  The physical manifestation of his desire pressed into her belly, stirring her hunger to a dizzying height. He claimed her mouth in a kiss. At the touch of his lips to hers, tenderness and passion blended with hunger and wanting. He deepened the kiss, tempting her to the edge of madness.

  His hands went to her corset, freeing her of the cumbersome garment, and then the chemise that came between his fingertips and her skin drifted to the floor at her feet.

  “Tell me you want me, lass.” The gentle command was a husky plea.

  “Yes, darling.” She sighed. “More than I believed possible.”

  Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to bed. When he moved to extinguish the light, she shook her head.

  “Not tonight,” she murmured. “I want to see you. I want to see…us.”

  His eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “As you wish, my darling lass.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Mac awoke to the sensation of silky tresses tickling his nose. Coiling a lock of Rose’s long, copper-tinged waves aroun
d one finger, he smiled to himself as she sighed in her sleep and nestled against him. Her warm, supple curves molded to his body. How had he gotten so blasted lucky?

  She stirred, and her lids fluttered open. A hint of a smile curved her lips.

  He drew her closer. “Good morning, love.”

  “Good morning.” Her voice was soft and drowsy and bloody enchanting.

  “I trust you slept well.”

  “The best dreams I’ve had in a very long time,” she whispered.

  Drinking in the soft scent of lemons in her hair, he kissed her again. “If I had my way, you’d awaken in my arms every morning.”

  Her eyes widened, and he felt her limbs tense. “Such a lovely dream that would be.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a dream, lass.”

  “Very well,” she said. “A fantasy.”

  “This is not a fantasy, Rose.”

  “In a sense, it is. Rather like a delightful tale of old.” She veiled her eyes with her thick, smoky lashes. “Long-lost lovers, reunited. Pity there’s no happily-ever-after in sight.”

  “Darling, we will build our own future. Together.”

  She sighed, a soft, rueful sound. “We each have our own path. It’s too late to change course now.”

  “And why might that be?” His gut clenched. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. “You’re asking me if there is someone else?”

  “Well—is there? A man sitting in some drab building in New York, awaiting your return?”

  Her delicate brows quirked. “I’ll have you know The Painted Lily is far from drab. Why, the glass alone cost me a veritable fortune.”

  “It could be the blasted Taj Mahal of Manhattan—it’s the man impatiently waiting for you to come home who concerns me.”

  “Why would you assume he’d be impatient?”

  “If you were mine, I’d be bloody impatient for you to return to me.”

  “MacAllister, I belong to no man.”

  “You haven’t married?”

  Rolling onto her elbow, she shot him a glare. “Do you think I would be here—in your bed—if I were a married woman?”

  “There are certain arrangements, marriages of convenience, if you will.” The way she looked at him made him feel like an utter arse. “I had to eliminate the possibility.”