Rogues, Rakes & Jewels
Page 24
Damn, but his Scottish-accented voice was mesmerizingly low, husky, and so very damned sexy. No, not sexy, but lusty, so damned lusty; sexy was not enough of a word to describe the feral tones that swept over her and made her want to lean in closer and catch every word he said.
It was more than his ‘eye candy, let me lick you all over’ looks. It was his style, which oozed sex appeal and more. Something in the way he moved, talked, and eyed a woman (her at the moment) told her—hell, promised her—that he would take her to heights never reached before and that she would be pleasured beyond belief at his hands.
Roxie conceded with a smile, “I suppose you could look at it that way, but tonight all I wanted was dinner.” She shrugged. “I didn’t have a chance to pick up any groceries today for the gatehouse.”
“What did ye do then all afternoon?” He grinned.
“I cleaned and dusted and bought some sheets and towels and a coffee maker as there wasn’t one, and I arranged for Internet service—”
“Right then.” He held up his hands and laughed. “I get it, woman—ye were busy.”
A waitress arrived then, and it was obvious the waitress knew him well—very well. She was a pretty woman, no more than twenty or so, with short auburn hair and bright eyes. She nudged him with her hip.
Roxie noted that the young waitress shot her a once-over glance and had that jealous look going on. She wondered how ‘involved’ Chase was with the pretty.
“Well then, love,” the waitress said. “What will ye be having tonight?”
He brazenly, openly stroked the hip she rubbed against his shoulder and allowed his hand to slide downwards and pat her ass. And Roxie had her answer.
“Anna—what will I be having then? Now, sweet … ye would know the answer to that, wouldn’t ye?” He flirted openly in front of Roxie, and she had the feeling he was doing it for a reason. What? Did he want to show her he was the ‘playboy type’?
Satisfied with his answer, ‘Anna’ sent a superior look to Roxie and said, “The midnight special?”
He laughed out loud. “Oh, I have enjoyed that often enough, haven’t I, but sadly, Anna, not tonight—tonight I’ll just have …” He looked at Roxie and then her plate and said, “what Miss Roxie is having.”
Anna didn’t seem pleased with this, but she turned and walked off, flirting loudly with what were obviously the regulars as she passed them.
At that juncture a draft of cold air made its way into the pub as the doors opened and a group of four young women entered, hefting musical instruments. It wasn’t long before they had set up in a corner and started playing, their voices rising in harmony.
Chase made idle conversation with Roxie as she nibbled at her food. His conversation consisted of simple pleasantries, not really interesting enough to hold her spellbound, and yet she found difficult to look away from him, which was what she wanted to do. She shouldn’t keep staring at his mouth …
Without realizing it, she’d been tapping her feet to the song the girls were singing, and all at once, Chase stood and took her hand.
A swift charge of electricity went through her. Her blood bubbled from the heat of the fire the electricity created. Her body reacted by moving without conscious thought towards Chase MacAdams, and her eyelids snapped open as she realized what his touch had done to her.
His voice was husky and fully sexually charged as he asked, “Dance?”
She couldn’t speak as she allowed him to lead her onto the small dance floor. It was a lively rendition, of all things, of “Chicken ’n’ Biscuits”. She laughed when she searched for and found her voice. “I can’t believe they know this song here in the Highlands.”
“Oh now, doona be surprised at anything we have here in the Highlands,” he answered, and there was no doubting his meaning.
When the song ended, Roxie was flushed with the excitement of dancing and flirting with this hunk of all hunks. Then the female band began a ballad, and he immediately put his hand on her waist and drew her to him.
He led her in a slow dance, his movements becoming slower with each beat of the song. She felt his solid body press against hers in an erotic movement, and an explosion erupted inside her. She couldn’t tell its origin, she couldn’t think how or why, but she felt herself glide into his body as he leaned into hers, and suddenly her arms were sliding up his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around her. There was no one else in the pub … were they in a pub?
Roxie felt as though they were in a black room lit by tiny stars and that he was leading her away from everything she knew. She felt the wolf in her raise its head and begin to howl with need and desire. She beat it down as she so often did these days … more and more lately.
She felt his hands move behind her to a point just above her butt, and she knew an instant where she wanted to guide his hands and make him grab her butt and pull her in …
She could feel his breathing in her ear, and she knew it wasn’t from the exertions of the dance. She sensed his alpha wolf reacting to her wolf, and she felt them both yearning to run. All at once, she was inside his head and she saw through his eyes as his wolf raced through the foothills …
He stopped suddenly and set her apart, staring down into her searching eyes with a strange expression on his face as he said, “What—what the hell are you?” His tone was as harsh as it was surprised.
“What do you mean?” She tried to appear innocent but felt guilty as hell.
“Don’t play games with me,” he returned, eyeing her doubtfully.
“I didn’t think I was,” she answered softly. She could see he wasn’t sure what he had experienced, wasn’t sure if he had really felt her in his head. How could he be sure of anything, when the experience had been an unexpected event for her as well?
Her inner wolf had suddenly emerged and joined with him in his mind. She had never had that happen to her with anyone. From his uncertain reaction, she was fairly certain the experience had been a new one for him as well.
The thing was, she told herself, she hadn’t initiated it—so how had it happened? What could have made her mind-meld like that with him? She hadn’t realized that she was inside his head until it was too late. And then her wolf had taken over and joyfully run with his … what the hell? This was potential trouble. She knew he had definitely realized something, but what? Did he think it had been his libido? Had it been his libido pulling on hers? She wasn’t sure.
He took her hand, brought her back to the table, and said grimly, “Sit.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” She had to wheedle her way out of this by pretending ignorance.
“Ye be wrong—everything about ye is all wrong. For one thing, lass … look at ye—too lovely to be hiding out in the Highlands. It doesn’t make sense to me, and when something doesn’t make sense, there is a reason. I want the reason. Tell me now, the truth if ye will, just why and what are ye really doing here away from life as ye should be living it, and don’t be telling me it is to write a book, for I don’t buy it.”
She took a chance with half a truth, one that had been ever present during her years in university life. “I wanted to get away … just get away until I decided what I want to do with my life.”
“Why?”
“That is personal.” She lowered her gaze to her hands playing with one another on the table.
“Why do I hear a lie in those words, Roxie MacBran? I think ye know exactly what ye want to do … I don’t think finding yerself is why ye came here to me.”
“Look,” she said, leaning forward. “I am a Patquah Indian, and my family wanted me to return to the fold. I wasn’t ready to turn them down cold, and I wasn’t ready to go back. I love them … I love my tribe, but I wanted to know the land my dad came from—thought I’d come up here and see what he left behind when he fell in love and married my mother.” Half-truths were often worse than lies, her mother had told her. Half-truths often caused hurt in the end because they were believable.
Chase l
eaned back in his chair as though accepting her words and asked, “Yer father is a Scotsman?”
She laughed. “MacBran is the name.”
He leaned forward again, coming very close to her, and said softly, “Aye then, I can see both in ye—the exotic Indian and the beauty of Scotland. Where did he hail from—yer father? Nearby?”
“Yes, oh he is very much a Scotsman, and he lived on the other side of Inverness. In fact, he maintains his ancestral home there still, MacBran Manor, and we have stayed there often, so it is not so strange for me to want to be here in the foothills of the Grampians.” She smiled tentatively. She was aware in that moment that she wanted to tell him everything. He was a hybrid—he would understand what it was to be different. She wanted to confess what she was and why she was there. Instead, she bit her bottom lip and felt ashamed of the lie that stood like a boulder now between them. She knew she was lying—and he suspected it.
He gave her a half-smile and wagged a finger. “Right then, we’ll leave it at that for now …” He eyed her speculatively and asked, “So, an American Indian are ye? That makes sense, for ye have that beauty in ye.”
She smiled. “My mother is our chief.”
He had taken her fingers and played with them. She was surprised she’d allowed him that, and then she realized she hadn’t allowed it—she couldn’t break away!
He let her hand go and sat back in his chair once more. “Is she now. Aye, ye ’ave been groomed for leadership. I see it in ye … but ye don’t want it, do ye?”
“No, I don’t want it.”
He tapped the table then and leaned towards her once more. “I’ll tell ye what, lass, for now ye can stay and keep the job, but I’ll be watching, and I don’t make ye any promises. I’m not sure how long this will last, for the sorry truth is I jest doona trust ye—not even a wee bit, lass. Can’t put m’finger on it, but there is something more here than meets m’eye.”
“I don’t much like being watched, or mistrusted.”
He shrugged. “Yer choice … that’s the way of it.”
Roxie sat thoughtfully looking at him as he picked at the food Anna had brought to the table while they were on the dance floor. She no longer had any appetite for her own and pushed her plate of half-eaten and now thoroughly cold food aside. She stood and said, “Good night, lord watcher of the manor.”
He stood and said, “May I take ye home, lass?”
“I have my own car, thanks.”
“Then let me follow ye home and make sure ye get in safely … on yer first night, ’tis the least I can do.”
What was happening to her? Everything he said and did made her feel like a bowl of mush. What she should have told him was that she was capable of taking herself home and seeing herself in safely. What she told him as she moved to leave was, “Sure.”
When he took her hand to lead her out, once again a charge of something snaked up her arm. This time she was aware it did the same to him, for their eyes locked.
“Coom then, lass,” he said, his voice low and husky, as he led her to her rental car. As he saw her situated in her vehicle he said, “Best be turning that thing in soon. No sense renting when I have a jeep ye can use.”
She smiled, not wanting to tell him that she liked her independence and could well afford her own expenses. Better not add that to the brew, for it would further his curiosity. If she was financially independent, again he would ask, why had she taken the job?
She followed him as he weaved his Jag out of the small village and took the main road to MacAdams Drive. When they reached the gate, she waited for him to use his remote, rather than use her own. The black wrought iron gate swung open, and she followed him through.
The gatehouse was about fifty feet up and to the left of the gate, with a short circular drive that led to the cottage’s front door. Roxie felt strangely excited as she pulled onto the gatehouse driveway. She parked her vehicle and waited for him to drive past her on his way up to his own house.
Instead, he pulled in behind her, and her eyebrows went up. Now what? She blinked, and he was at her car door. He opened it wide even as she pulled the keys out of the ignition, and he offered her his hand, Old World style.
She had the advantage. He knew nothing really about her, but she knew a great deal about him. She knew he was three hundred years old—talk about messing with an older man—however, it was difficult to keep that in mind when he looked to be in his late twenties. He had Old World style because our early years form who we are, and traditional manners were a part of who he was. Roxie found that she liked it—very much.
In spite of the fact that she liked doing things for herself, she felt a certain flutter of pleasure as he helped her out of the car and saw her to the beautifully arched oak door. The gatehouse was constructed of stone and had been renovated to retain most of its original structure and style. It was Old World and welcoming to the eye. The ivy that covered a good portion on either side of the arched door rustled in the breeze, and she found that the cottage was as lovely in the evening as it had been during the day.
A moment later he had opened the door and stood aside for her to enter first. She had to brush up against him in order to pass inside. A sensation rushed through her body, and a wave of heat infiltrated her loins. He made her feel hot, wet, and ready …
She had to get control. What was happening to her? She took in a deep breath and turned to him to say good night. Her mouth opened and stayed that way, but nothing came out.
All at once he scooped her into his arms, wrapping her in an embrace that left her breathless and wanting more. She knew she should object—damn, she knew she should run. Object, she told herself, but instead, her traitorous body pressed against his as he bent his head to hers and touched his mouth—oh, that sensuous mouth—to hers.
Her mouth was already open and ready for his kiss, and when that meeting took place, she lost herself to him. His touch vibrated wildly through her body as his tongue introduced itself to hers.
Run! her brain demanded. Run now … but how could she when rockets were blasting away any route of escape? Hunger real and overwhelming eclipsed all logic, all other considerations. She was hungry for this … no … for this from him, from this bold and feral man. Stop! her mind hissed. This is only because you haven’t been with a man in so long, she told herself … stop.
The mind is rarely in charge when the body is in need. She felt her thighs clench with a desire that was as primal as the wolf deep inside her demanding release. His kiss turned into two and three, and then suddenly, just as she wanted to tear off his clothes and have him, he was the one who pulled away.
And when he spoke he sounded as though he were panting—no, wait. She was the one who was panting.
He said, “Forgive me,” turned on his heel, and was gone.
She stood but reached for the wall to steady herself.
Holy shit! What was that?
About Claudy Conn
Claudy Conn, a native New Yorker, now lives with her husband, Bob; their wolf, Cherokee; and Cherokee’s son, Rocky Man, who weighs in presently at 190 pounds.
She loves horses and riding and raised her ten-year-old gelding Southern Pride from the moment he was born. She also loves gardening, swimming, skiing, hiking, and travel—and of course, reading, writing, but no, she says, no arithmetic!
To get her monthly news, her reviews for all her new paranormal romances, and excerpts, come on and visit her at her website: http://www.claudyconn.com
To see pictures of Cherokee and her Shep./wolf son!, have a look at her facebook page:
http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/ClaudyConn-Paranormal-Romance-Author/135826686471445
Discover other titles by Claudy Conn at Smashwords.com:
Legend Series
Spellbound—Legend – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/96103
Shee Willow—Legend – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/103389
Trapped—Legend – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/
112028
Free Falling—Legend – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/92368
Catch & Hold—Legend – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/124602
Prince in the Mist – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/104045
Aaibhe—Shee Queen – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/110252
Prince Prelude—Legend – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/159840
Shadow Series
ShadowLove—Stalkers – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/63037
ShadowHeart—Slayer – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/84350
ShadowLife—Hybrid – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/143173
Risqué Regencies
Myriah Fire – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/109011
Oh, Cherry Ripe – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/135532
Table of Contents
Rogues, Rakes & Jewels
Preview: Oh Cherry Ripe
Preview: Myriah Fire
Preview: Prince Prelude—Legend
Preview: ShadowLife—Hybrid
About Claudy Conn