Her Outlaw

by Geralyn Dawson

  As he made his way upstairs, Dair looked forward to the meal. He’d spent much of the afternoon dealing with Highland Riever business with his fence and his banker, and a quick visit to a land agent had yielded an interesting piece of information he was anxious to share with Emma.

  He stepped out onto the rooftop to discover she’d already arrived. His first glance at her took his breath away. The lady had been busy this afternoon, too. She’d dressed for dinner.

  She wore a low-cut gown of shimmering silk in a rich, deep ruby shot with threads of gold, a perfect complement to the necklace she wore. Dair hardly spared the gem a glance, so enthralled was he with the swell of breasts pillowing the ruby.

  When he finally dragged his gaze upward, he saw that she’d piled her hair in tousled golden curls atop her head. Simple gold hoops hung from her ears. Her blue eyes gleamed with an intriguing light and a secretive smile hovered on her full red lips. Dair wanted her like he needed his next breath. “Now I understand why Harvey laid out my good suit for me to wear,” he said, forcing a casual tone. “You’re a vision, Emma.”

  “Thank you. You’re looking rather dapper yourself.”

  “New dress?”

  “No. It’s my mother’s design. A Christmas gift. My sisters and I each received special gowns to match our necklaces.”

  His gaze made a slow, careful study from head to toe. “Your mother is a talented woman.”

  “That she is.” Her smile widened, warmed. “So, how was your afternoon, Mr. MacRae?”

  Not as interesting as hers, by the looks of it. This was a different Emma Tate from the one he’d left swaying on the front stoop. That Emma had been pale and nervous and shaken. This Emma was all color and confidence.

  Immediately, he went wary. Drawing on past experience with women, he concluded, “You’ve made a decision.”

  “Clairvoyant, MacRae?”

  Unnerved, Tate. “Observant.”

  She slipped a rose from the vase at the center of the table set for two and twirled its long stem. “I like that in a man.”

  Dair had the sudden feeling that this would be a very long night. He signaled for their meal to be served and they strolled around the rooftop garden engaging in small talk until the servants departed, leaving them alone.

  Emma picked up her wineglass, then said, “I thought about what you said, Dair, about fate. I’ve decided not to fight it. The night Roslin gave my sisters and I our necklaces, she said we must each accomplish a task of great personal import. Maybe finding the treasure is my task. Wouldn’t that be exciting?”

  Not as exciting as you. He forced himself to pay attention to her words rather than her lips. “So you intend to stay the course? You are not ready to take your ruby and run?”

  She played with the neck chain teasingly. “Why tempt fate?”

  “Indeed.” Dair lifted his own wineglass and sipped it sparingly. Instinct cautioned him to keep his wits about him.

  The woman was in a mood, and he didn’t know that it was any different from the one this morning that had left him bare-ass naked on his own front balcony. “I’ve given some thought to our next move. I spoke with a man today who imparted a piece of information I find curious. It seems that in the Strathardle Valley, many families name their firstborn daughter Roslin.”

  “Why?”

  “My acquaintance didn’t know, but I believe that’s a good line of questioning to pursue. I sent a note to Potter requesting any information he might have in that respect. Depending on what he has for us when we call upon him again tomorrow, I suspect we might find it helpful to travel to Strathardle ourselves.”

  “The Highlands?” Pleasure lit her expression. “I love the Highlands. I’ve cousins there, you know.”

  While they ate, she shared stories about her family, beginning with the Scots branch, then moving west to the McBrides of Fort Worth. She told silly, entertaining tales that thoroughly distracted and enchanted him. Until dessert was served, that is.

  The way the woman ate lemon custard was downright sinful.

  She licked and sucked and purred and savored. Watching Emma Tate savor her dessert was as erotic as observing fire dances on South Pacific islands. When her tongue dragged slowly, lusciously over her spoon, then she let out that little hum of pleasure, closed her eyes and shuddered with delight, it was like watching someone have sex at the supper table.

  Dair wanted to play, too. But not with lemon custard. Hell, he wanted to be the lemon custard.

  He was rock-hard beneath the napkin in his lap, and as he reached for his water glass, he debated tipping it and dousing the fire. With a strangled chuckle he imagined steam rising from his lap into the night air.

  Then it occurred to him what this was about. Payback. This was payback for his…display…on the balcony. She was teasing him. She probably had plans to work him into a froth then pour ice water on his passion by word or deed or some scheme she’d spent the afternoon concocting. It was just like the woman.

  Well, Texas. Surely you’ve heard the old saying about girls who play with fire getting burned. I’m of a mood to scorch you.

  She’d caught him by surprise with this. After the events of the morning he’d expected her to be full of questions about the treasure—either that or saying her goodbyes prior to rejoining her sister or heading home to Texas. Instead, she barely mentioned the treasure and declared her intention to remain with him. It was curious. He’d take a moment to think about it when he had blood in his brain again.

  Dair took another slow slip of wine and studied his dinner partner over the crystal glass. Was she at all aware of how dangerous it was to tease a man like him?

  Emma finished her dessert by boldly licking the spoon. Then she licked her lips with a slow circle of her tongue that had Dair gripping his wineglass so hard he expected the stem to shatter. “Delicious,” she purred. “Simply delicious.”

  “Yes,” Dair agreed, his gaze fastened on her mouth. Go ahead, seduce her, whispered a voice inside his head. She has it coming. You know she does. Remember this morning.

  He should put an end to this game of hers right here and now. He should sweep the dessert dishes off the table, rip up her skirt, and take her on the table. He set his wineglass on the table, then stood and called her bluff. “Delicious. I didn’t get enough.” He tugged her to her feet. “I want more.”

  So he kissed her. Dair ravished her mouth with his lips and tongue, unleashing the passion that had burned inside him for hours, days, from the moment he first laid eyes on the woman in his arms, now clutching his shoulders and kissing him back with an eagerness that aroused him to new heights. He yanked pins from her hair and it tumbled, a golden waterfall, as she opened to the erotic stroke of his tongue. She whimpered his name against his mouth as his hand slid up to cup her breast through the silk of her gown.

  He took it as permission and his practiced hands went to work, soon freeing her breast to the cool evening air. She moaned as his thumb rubbed across her sensitive skin and she arched into his hand. He gave a deep hum of satisfaction, then lowered his head. His lips closed on her nipple and greedily tasted heaven.

  Desire was a hard, pounding force inside him and Dair knew that this time would be no gentle seduction. When she dragged at his jacket then tore at his shirt until her hands found his bare skin and stroked over his ribs, he growled his pleasure. She was as impatient as he. He released her breast and returned to her mouth, feasting there a moment before burying his face in her neck. He sucked hard, drawing heat to the surface while she panted and whimpered and helped his hands deal with laces and tapes and hooks-and-eyes.

  Finally, she stood naked before him, a pagan goddess bathed in moonlight, her lids heavy with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses, her full breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths. Devouring her with his hot, hungry gaze, he murmured, “Emma.”

  “Just so you know, MacRae, if you’re thinking about leaving me stranded up here in retribution for this morning, I’ll cut
your heart out and feed it to the dogs.”

  “What?” He started to protest in his own defense, but he lost his train of thought when she reached for his belt buckle. Then she rubbed her breasts against his naked chest as her inquisitive fingers found him, fondled him, and freed him and he quit trying to think at all. He lifted her off her feet and captured her mouth with his. He steeped himself in the sweet taste of her, the scent of her—old roses and ripe woman. When she wrapped her legs around his hips, Dair resisted no longer. He backed her against the chimney and took her standing up.

  It was furious and raw and rough. Need clawed through him as her nails raked his back. His blood roared in his veins. His breaths came in labored pants. She was wet for him, hot and tight and he pumped into her feverishly. He heard her whimper and moan and gasp. Felt her nails dig into his skin, her teeth nip his shoulder. “More…” he demanded, thrusting faster. Harder.

  “Yes,” she moaned, gasping for air. “More.”

  He plunged into her, deep and desperate, blinded by the red haze of desire. He felt the orgasm building at the base of his spine, and he tried to hold it back. But when she screamed a wild, primal sound of release and her feminine muscles gripped him like a vise, he could stand no more. Groaning and swearing, Dair drove into her once more, then erupted. A tidal wave of pleasure crashed over him, sucked him down into the heated vortex of a climax stronger and more powerful than any he’d ever known.

  When he finally surfaced minutes—or maybe days—later, he realized she’d gone limp in his arms. His heart stuttered and remorse washed over him. “Oh God. I hurt you. Emma, I’m sorry—”

  She lifted her head off his shoulder and smiled with smug satisfaction. “I drove you crazy.”

  Regret melted away to amusement. “Since the day I met you.”

  “I’m not through with you yet, MacRae.”

  “Dear Lord in heaven I hope not.”

  She laughed and her delight rang like wind chimes on the night air. Then she brushed a tender kiss across his lips. “Take me to bed, MacRae. The sex was delightful, but now I want to make love with you.”

  Dair tried to ignore the apprehension her words sent shuddering down his spine. He wanted to shut his mind to everything but steeping himself in the heat of Emma’s passion.

  Amazingly, he couldn’t do it. Any other woman, any other time, he wouldn’t have a problem putting his own needs first. For some strange reason, right now, with her it wasn’t working that way. He couldn’t forget that core of goodness she constantly revealed. Couldn’t dismiss that streak of innocence she occasionally betrayed. “Emma, wait. What’s going on here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Sex is obvious. Making love, on the other hand, is open to many interpretations. I think it’s important we make sure we’re both singing from the same hymnal.”

  Her smile flashed. “I know I was good, MacRae, but a religious experience?”

  He literally trembled with need. Good Lord, I’m cutting off my nose to spite my face. “Look, I want to make certain that you understand where I stand. I don’t want to be accused of leading you on at some later date. This…liaison…of ours is only temporary. Don’t look to me with thoughts of marriage or family or home. It will never happen.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  See, he’d been right. That innocence of hers was undeniable. She was just the type to think that a sexual relationship inevitably ended up at the altar.

  Hell, even if he wasn’t dying, that would never happen. Dair shuddered at the thought of marriage. The notion of fatherhood scared him to death. He’d never known his own father. He grew up in a orphanage. He barely remembered his mother’s love. What did he know about family ties? Nothing. Not a damned thing.

  Emma, on the other hand, was all about family ties. She was marriage and babies and picket fences. Even if he had a future, there would be no future for the two of them. He allowed his certainty to ring in his voice. “I’m positive, Emma.”

  She gave him a long, searching look, and Dair thought for sure that his little speech had meant the end of the evening’s pleasure. He feared it might even affect her decision regarding the treasure hunt. See what trying to be noble got a man?

  Trouble. Trouble and frustration.

  Finally, she nodded. “I heard what you said, Alasdair MacRae. I give you my word that I’ll never accuse you of leading me on. Take me to bed, MacRae. Make love to me.”

  He all but keeled over in shock. Emma Tate had surprised him yet again. Thank God. He cleared his throat. “That sounds like a fine idea, Texas. I can’t think of anything I’d like better.”

  For once, Alasdair MacRae spoke the God’s honest truth.

  EMMA SLIPPED INTO HER bathroom to don the nightgown he’d purchased at the dress shop. The red silk clung to her curves, showcased more than concealed. It tied at the shoulders and as she formed the bows, she pictured his fingers tugging the knot free and she shivered with anticipation.

  She brushed out her hair and dabbed an exotic scent of bergamot and spice on her wrists, behind her ears, and between her breasts. She felt wicked and wonderful and gloriously alive, and the night was just beginning. A new life was just beginning.

  Emma might have doubts about the existence of fairies, but when it came to her feelings for Dair, she now suffered no such indecision. Emma recognized that this was meant to be. They were meant to be.

  She stepped out into the bedroom. He’d left a single lamp burning and lit a half dozen candles which bathed the room in a soft golden glow. He lay stretched out on the bed, naked, powerful and sleek. His smoky eyes watched her with an intensity that brought shivers to her skin.

  He again reminded her of a jungle cat, she decided. Primed and ready to pounce upon his prey. Then he rolled off the bed and stood. His sex jutted out, huge and ready. Tension coiled inside her. Emma forced herself to stand her ground.

  He crossed the room to her, towering above her, the heat of his body rolling off him in waves. He reached out and curled a lock of her hair around his finger. “I don’t know when my money was so well spent. You look like a pagan goddess in that gown.”

  Then he bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. “The first time I saw you, I wanted you. You made me hungry.”

  “You bought ice cream.”

  “And thought about licking you. Same thing happened the day you walked into Jake Kimball’s study hoping, I thought, to convince him to marry you, I pictured you like this.” With one finger, he traced the swell of her breast just above the gown’s neckline and Emma quivered beneath his touch.

  “While your sister sold my friend on your skills, I mentally stripped away that pretty yellow dress and put you in red. Briefly, I’ll admit. I got you naked very fast.” With two quick tugs, the gown slipped to the floor. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

  “I noticed you staring.” She drew a sharp breath when his fingertip began to trace feathery circles around her nipples.

  A mocking smile played upon his lips. “It was rude of me.”

  “You’re a rude man.” Her breasts ached for the touch of his hands.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, his voice rough with arousal. His finger trailed between her breasts and down her belly to her navel. Her muscles clenched. “My intentions are to torment.”

  “I’ve observed that you seldom fail in your endeavors.”

  “That’s true.” In a movement that surprised her, he turned her around. He stood close, pulling her back against him. His sex was hot against her bottom. “I almost always get what I want.”

  Emma’s mouth went dry when she realized that he’d maneuvered them in front of a full-length mirror. She watched, her breathing quick and shallow, as his large, tanned hands covered her breasts. Her body arched, an instinctive offering, as he circled and kneaded and stimulated. In her reflection, she saw her erect nipples peeking through his fingers as he played with them, pinching and tugging and rubbing. Pleasure arrow
ed through her straight to her woman’s core and her legs trembled. “This is wicked,” she breathed.

  “I like wicked,” he replied, his voice husky and raw. In the mirror, their gazes met and held. “I like watching you. I like watching what I do to you. Look.”

  Emma watched their reflection, transfixed, as one of his hands swept lower, across her flat belly. Anticipation built within her. She wanted to groan when his hand paused just above her reddish curls.

  “There. See how your thighs parted, how you instinctively opened for me?” He bent to nibble at her earlobe, then nip gently at her neck. “Now watch my fingers find you, Texas. See how they explore your soft, feminine folds.”

  As he spoke, his hand moved between her legs. Watching him, hearing him, and feeling him all at the same time—it was the most erotic experience of Emma’s life.

  “You’re so wet. Swollen and hot.” The hand on her breast tightened as he slipped a finger into her sheath. His breath hissed between his teeth. “Tight.”

  He stroked her with his finger. Stretched her. His thumb flicked over her most sensitive skin and Emma whimpered, then moaned with protest when he took his hand away.

  He brought his hand up to his face, closed his eyes, and inhaled the scent of her on his finger. “Mmm…” Then he opened his eyes, stared deep into hers, and licked her wetness from his hand. “Sweet.”

  Oh, my.

  “And not enough. I simply must taste more of you.”

  Oh my oh my.

  “Watch me drink from you, Emma.” He moved in front of her, sank to his knees. He dipped his head and licked her.

  Emma’s heart hammered, her knees turned to water. His hands grasped her waist and supported her weight, lifted her, gave him better access. She threaded her fingers into his hair to steady herself as he attended to her with the most intimate of kisses. Her head lolled back and her eyes threatened to close, but she couldn’t drag her gaze from the reflection in the mirror.

  Tension inside her built. His breath was hot against her, his tongue bold. When he fitted his mouth against her and sucked, she cried out. “No. No more. I can’t bear it.”