Her Outlaw

by Geralyn Dawson

  She circled her mouth with her tongue. “That’s a very bold suggestion, Mr. MacRae.”

  “I’m a bold man, Mrs. Tate. The question before us is how bold a woman are you?”

  Emma’s pulse sped up. Her mouth went dry. An idyllic garden. He was the serpent. She was the tempted. Tempted with a capital T. If she did this, if she threw away all her good sense and embraced her inner Menace, then she couldn’t later cry foul or indulge in regrets or remorse.

  Remorse? The only remorse she’d have is if he didn’t kiss her. Touch her. Hold her.

  This was her chance. Here in England so far from home, she could indulge herself. She could do something shocking and no one need ever know. She could throw off the mantle of being Widow Tate and be a Menace again. Be Emma. The old Emma. The Emma who wasn’t boring, but fun and exciting and…wicked. The Emma who wasn’t about to turn thirty with no man, no babies, no life.

  Emma didn’t want to be selfish, but right here, right now, she couldn’t help it. She was glad Mari had found her happy ending. She mourned for Kat’s horrific loss. But right now, as her birthday roared toward her, she wanted to worry about herself for a change. She wanted to end the boredom. Pull a true McBride Menace prank. She wanted to rob another train or steal another horse or…

  Or walk into the garden maze with a dangerous man.

  “Emma?”

  What was it about this man in particular? Why was she like a moth to his flame? He was nothing like Casey—lighthearted of manner and demeanor. Dair MacRae was dark and tempting and represented everything that she was not. Her father would detest him on sight. She knew next to nothing about him. Yet, there was something in his eyes. Something wild and excited. Something wicked.

  Something wicked. Yes, that’s what she couldn’t resist.

  Emma sucked in a deep breath, then said, “I’m a McBride Menace, sir. I was born bold.”

  A devilish twinkle lit those silver eyes. He extended his hand, gesturing for her to precede him into the maze. Emma stepped forward and excitement sizzled through her.

  It was like another world. The scent of honeysuckle hung heavy on the air. A sparrow flitted from its perch atop an elaborate iron bench while a squirrel scampered along the path. “Should I follow him?” Emma asked.

  “Is that a request for a hint?”

  Now that she’d given herself permission to be bad, the need to play—to tease him and tantalize him and make him ache with wanting—rose within her. “Hmm…perhaps.”

  He took a step toward her.

  She placed her hand against his chest and pushed gently. “Perhaps not.”

  “Hmm.” He clasped his hands behind his back, the twinkle in his eyes deepening to impure amusement.

  Emma lifted her chin and boldly chose the path to her left, purposely taking big steps that caused her hips to swing. A few steps later, the path dead-ended.

  Dair made a show of checking his watch, and Emma’s competitive nature was sparked. She wanted her kiss—oh, she truly did. However, McBride Menaces never backed down from a challenge.

  She lifted her hem and retraced her steps. Her second try appeared more successful. She sent him a sly smile and sashayed forward. Dair sauntered behind her, whistling.

  Then Emma hit another dead end. Hmm. Maybe now?

  But when she turned, he checked his watch again.

  No, not now. Emma turned around and walked past him, brushing up against him as she turned a corner, into another hedge wall. Drat.

  “Let me help you, Emma.”

  He was staring at her mouth, his eyes narrowed and intense. Hot. Now, whispered the Menace in her. Let him help you. You know you want it. “Which way do I go, Dair?”

  He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles one by one, staring deeply into her eyes as he did so. Anticipation sizzled through her. Then he turned her hand over and his lips caressed the very center of her palm. “Turn left, Texas.”

  Then, he dropped her hand and stepped away.

  Emma’s spine stiffened. Aha. So that’s his game, is it? He thinks to tease me, too. Well, he’s got another think coming, doesn’t he? Two of us are playing here, and I always play to win.

  She slowly licked her lips. “Well, then. Left it is.”

  Was that a chuckle she heard from the maddening man?

  In less than a minute, she found her way blocked once again. This time she didn’t hesitate. “Right or left?”

  Again, he brought her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles, then her palm. This time, though, he went a little farther. With clever fingers, he loosened the buttons at the cuff of her sleeve. Emma shivered as his lips found the sensitive skin at the inside of her wrist. She shuddered when his teeth tenderly scraped her skin. “Right.”

  That’s more like it.

  When he stepped back, she lifted the hand he’d kissed to her chest where she played with the ribbon at her collar. As expected, his eyes followed her every movement. Emma grinned with satisfaction as she took the right turn he’d indicated to continue through the maze, her awareness of the man walking a half step behind her increasing as the seconds ticked by. He moved with an animal’s grace.

  Apparently, she made some good choices because she went for quite a ways before encountering another dead end. Her heartbeat racing, she turned to Dair. “Help?”

  Slowly, the wolf smile stretched across his face. The wicked glint in his eyes went sharper. This time he took her left hand and repeated his previous attentions, tugging up her sleeve to expose her arm, trailing his mouth up to the inside of her elbow. His sandalwood scent enveloped her and gentle nibbles sent little strikes of lightning from her arm to her womb. “This is one of the trickier places in the maze. The price to pay is higher.”

  He repeated the exact same motions with the exact same speed—deliciously slow—on her left hand and arm. By the time he released her and stepped back, Emma was a puddle. “To find your way from here, you must turn right, then immediately, right again.”

  Wrong. She wanted so badly to go left.

  She was afraid she’d reach the Greek temple too soon.

  However, she knew better than to be so obvious, so she followed his directions. Moments later, she found her way blocked in a cozy little alcove adorned with a pretty iron bench and planters overflowing with a rainbow of flowers. “Foiled again,” Emma declared, trying to hide her delight. She eyed the bench, then asked, “May I request you suspend the ticking clock while we rest our feet a moment?”

  “Hmm.” The light in his eyes turned knowing. “I guess an exception to the rules is in order.”

  Emma took a seat. Dair sat beside her, closer than was proper. The way he focused his attention on her without wavering wasn’t exactly proper, either. But it sure was flattering. Intriguing. Stimulating.

  “So.” Emma cleared her throat. “How far to the goal?”

  He studied her with a deliberate gaze. “Oh, we’ve quite a way to go yet.”

  “I see.” She smoothed her skirt, then played with the lace trim on her bodice. “So I won’t win the prize?”

  “I wouldn’t give up yet. Perhaps I could offer you more extensive clues.”

  “For a more extensive price?”

  “You catch on fast, don’t you?”

  Emma wondered where his lips would wander next. Would he finally find her mouth and give her the kiss she craved? Or would he discover other areas to tease?

  She decided she was ready to find out. “I want to win that snow globe, so I guess I should hear the more substantial clues.”

  Again, his predatory gaze swept over her. He reached out and smoothed an errant strand of hair away from her face, then his fingers lingered on her cheek, softly stroking her skin as he said, “Your hair reminds me of sunrise off the coast of Tahiti, a dozen different colors of gold with a subtle streak of fiery red. Tell me, Emma, is there fire inside you as well?”

  Her voice would have quavered had she attempted to speak, so staring into the heated gunm
etal glow of his eyes, she settled for a nod. She definitely had fire inside her. A hot one, and he’d built it.

  “I suspected as much.” He freed her hair from its pins and it went tumbling down her back. He buried his fist in the long, silken strands. “Beautiful. So beautiful.”

  Emma saw his heavy-lidded gaze drop to her mouth. She felt his fingers play at the back of her neck. Anticipation sizzled within her as his face moved toward hers. “Ask me.”

  “Hmm?”

  His breath feathered against her skin. “You need to ask me.”

  Oh, the man played dirty.

  Fine. That made it all the easier for her. The wanton inside Emma wanted to laugh as she decided the time had come to make her winning move.

  “No. I won’t beg for your kisses, Mr. MacRae. I think I’ll simply take one.” Then Emma closed the distance between them, and kissed him.

  She sensed his startled surprise, but he quickly got over that. Dair MacRae took control of the kiss and Emma Tate let him.

  It had been so long and it felt so good. It was nice to know that she could still make a man want her.

  He was unexpectedly gentle with her at first, a whisper of a touch that shouldn’t have sparked a fire in her blood, but did. His teeth scraped softly over her bottom lip, and Emma couldn’t repress a helpless purr of pleasure.

  He framed her face in his hands, tipped her head back, and deepened the kiss. Emma’s world tilted. He was good at this. Very good. It had been so long since she’d allowed a man to reach past her defenses. A long time since she’d wanted one there.

  Need rose within her, a hollow, grinding ache she felt through to the very core of her body. Emma lifted her hands, ran them across the breadth of his shoulders, then upward. She buried her fingers in his hair and responded to the wild, willing yearning he’d created within her by pouring all the hot, hungry need into her kiss.

  His hands released her face, skimmed downward, settled at her waist, his fingers tightening in a viselike grip. He broke the kiss, drew his head away. His breathing was heavy as his gaze locked with hers.

  She’d surprised him, all right. The admiration in those heated silver eyes boring into her soul told her so.

  He spoke in a low, slow rumble. “First left, second right, third left will save you.”

  Save her? “What do you mean?”

  “A shortcut out of the maze.”

  Oh. Emma’s stomach sank. Had she misread the signs? Oh no. Had she just made a fool of herself? “You’re sending me away?”

  She tried to move away from him, but his hands held her captive. “Only if you wish to be saved. I’m not a gentleman, Emma Tate, and you tempt me more than I had anticipated. If you meet me in the center of the maze, be prepared for the consequences.”

  She swallowed hard. “Consequences?”

  “I’ll not stop with a kiss.”

  His declaration sent a bolt of desire pulsing through her. She spoke in order to give herself time to think. “So you’re a rogue with a conscience?”

  His mouth tilted in a wry smile. “I’m just a man.”

  And she was just a woman, a woman with needs that hadn’t been attended to for so long. Dair MacRae was the most exciting man she’d ever met and right now, at this moment in time, Emma wanted exciting. She wanted dashing and daring and dangerous. She wanted…him.

  With that acknowledgment, any lingering insecurity disappeared. Self-confidence brought a calming sense of peace that cleared the way for her to do nothing more than feel. She was the Emma of old. Brave, courageous, and bold.

  She lifted her chin, met his simmering stare with a seductive one of her own and asked, “And to the temple, MacRae? What’s the fastest path to the temple?”

  His eyes went to black, and his voice sounded raspy as he said, “First right. Second right. Third right. Go, woman. Fast.”

  She stood, an animal sensing danger, feeling more alive than she’d felt in years. At the entrance to the alcove, she tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder, then picked up her skirts and turned right.

  She reached the replica temple in little more than a minute. Her blood was humming, her heart was singing, and she wanted to shout out with joie de vivre. Instead, she settled for wrapping her arms around herself and spinning around.

  “My God, you’re…”

  “…alive,” she breathed.

  He caught her with a growl and yanked her against him, then devoured her with his kiss. His mouth was ravenous, and she sensed wildness in him, an elemental savagery barely controlled.

  And Emma gloried in it. She felt womanly and desirable and…powerful. His clever fingers worked the buttons down her back and her collar loosened. When he tore his mouth from hers and nipped his way down her neck, she laughed with sheer joy.

  Dair captured her lips once again, his hands fisting in her hair, his tongue plunging into her mouth, plundering even as he propelled her backwards until she came up against one of the temple columns. His hands streaked over her, ruthlessly exploring, mercilessly possessing.

  He pressed his body against her, and he was as hard as the marble column at her back. She felt soft and malleable like a goose-feather pillow. The pulsing ache within her grew. She wanted to beg him. It had been so long.

  He drew back. His gaze was diamond hard and lava hot. “Last chance to run, Emma.”

  She sucked in a quick breath. “I’m not running.”

  Impossibly, his gaze grew even hotter, but she sensed he drew upon a deep well of control. He took her hand and led her inside the stone structure.

  It was a place made for a tryst. Emma’s quick survey spied a basket of fruit, a bottle of wine, and two crystal glasses. Tall candlesticks stood at the ready beside the oversized lounging couch that dominated the space. He’d prepared for her. The man had been sure of himself, and certain of her.

  “A glass of wine, Texas?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

  “No, thank you.” Emma shivered.

  “Strawberries?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I beg to differ. You are more than fine. You are fascinating. Alluring. Enticing. You’ve seduced me, Emma Tate, and it is quite beyond my original intentions.”

  The sweet sense of feminine power rushed through her as he turned her to face him. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “So damned beautiful.” Then his mouth captured hers once again, and Emma abandoned all effort to think as she gave herself up to the heady pleasure of simply feeling.

  His practiced hands stroked her, caressed her—her face, her neck, her arms. She sensed air upon her skin as her dress fell away. His lips released her mouth and trailed lower, finding the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. Emma couldn’t hold back a purr as she arched away to allow him better access.

  At the same time, she wanted her hands on him. She wanted to skim her hands across his bare skin, to know the sensation of corded muscle beneath her palm. To feel the rasp of his chest hair against her naked breasts.

  As she lifted her hand to tug at his neck scarf, he scooped her into his arms and carried her the few short steps to the couch. Emma lay back, her eyelids heavy as she watched him shrug from his jacket and yank off his neck scarf. He knelt on one knee above her, reached for her sleeves, and bared her upper body to his heated gaze.

  His gaze swept over her, lingered on the swell of her breasts rising above the lace trim of her chemise. He noted the unique front fastening corset her seamstress mother had designed with approval. “Full of surprises, aren’t you, Texas?”

  Moments later, he’d bared her completely to the waist. He shifted, straddled her, drawing Emma’s gaze to the prominent bulge at his crotch. Her body responded with a liquid heat that readied her even as she moaned at the first touch of a man’s hand on her bare breast in over a decade. She trembled. She shook, strung tighter than a bow. Oh, she’d missed this.

  “Such beautiful jewels.”

  “It’s ruby. The pendant is a ruby.”

  “I wasn’t referri
ng to your necklace,” he said with amusement. His finger trailed across the swell of her breast. “Your skin is like silk. So soft. Creamy.” His thumb brushed her taut nipple. “I’ll bet you taste as beautiful as you look.”

  He leaned down and licked the valley between her breasts. Emma gasped and Dair murmured, “Mmm. I was right.”

  Then the man devoted his attentions to her breasts, kneading and squeezing, kissing. The rough surface of his tongue rasped against her nipples as he laved them, one after the other.

  Emma twisted her head from side to side, arching her back, offering herself to his tender assault. When finally, he drew her slowly into his mouth and suckled, she moaned softly.

  Sensation stole throughout her body. A pulse beat in her womb. Tension increased. More, she wanted more. She clutched his head to her, drowning in pleasure, glorying in the magic Dair MacRae created. She wanted it to last forever; she wanted him to take her to the next level right now. Urgently, Emma slid her hands down to the placket on his shirtfront and yanked at his buttons. Dair released her long enough to shrug off his shirt and yank off his undershirt. Emma sighed aloud when the weight of his bare chest came down upon her.

  Then, a voice intruded. “Dair?” Jake Kimball called from somewhere beyond a hedge.

  Dair appeared deaf to the interruption, blind to all but her as he took her mouth in a kiss that bordered on desperate.

  Kimball called again, louder this time. “Miss McBride has come looking for her sister.”

  Emma wanted to scream in frustration. Kat. Leave it to Kat. She was so darn tired of Kat interfering in her life.

  She placed her hand against Dair’s chest and applied gentle pressure that didn’t budge him a bit. “My sister…”

  “Is a pain in the ass,” he muttered.

  The sentiment shocked a laugh out of Emma. “If you only knew.”

  A long, suspenseful moment passed while he waited, watching her intently, a predator over his prey. Then he rolled them onto their sides, not breaking eye contact with Emma, a finger combing her unbound hair away from her face as he called out, “I owe you one for this, Kimball.”