Unwrapped Bundle with You Don't Know Jack & Bad Boys in Kilts

by Erin McCarthy

  He held her gaze for the space of several long seconds, and then the offer was made before he could think on it a moment longer. “I’ve room,” he told her. “And I dinnae think my peace and solitude will be shattered too much by the addition of another soul.”

  She turned, stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  He hadn’t planned this, had planned in fact to have her gone within twenty-four hours. But that was a lifetime ago, too. Before he was intrigued. Before he was entranced. Before his muse had made a very unexpected reappearance. “I mean, you can stay here. For however long you’d like.”

  “But I can’t just—”

  He cut her off. Because he’d seen that instant spark of hope in her eyes. And because he’d felt the same spark inside of him as well. He didn’t claim to understand it, but he wanted the chance to try.

  “Yes, you can just.” He stood and extended her a hand. “Sometimes it really can be just that simple.”

  She looked at him, so wary, yet so obviously wanting to believe. When she put her hand in his and stood, he knew at once he’d been right. It really could be that simple. Just as he knew, and surprisingly accepted, that it was quite likely nothing was going to be simple, ever again.

  Chapter 7

  “Simple,” Bree echoed. She wanted to laugh at the mere suggestion that anything in her life could ever be such again. But he was holding her hand, and looking into her eyes…and standing so close. It had been all she could do not to squirm the entire time he’d had his hands in her hair. If he had any idea the kind of thoughts she was harboring about him, especially when he’d been nothing but a gentleman…she wondered if the invitation to stay would still be open. “You don’t know what you’re offering. It isn’t that simple.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know the whole story. I only know you have one. And that it seems as if you could use a break.”

  “You should know,” she started, but he lifted his free hand, halting her.

  “If you want tae tell me, fine. But don’t feel ye have to. You’re safe here, I can tell you that much.”

  “No one is after me, or anything like that.” Well, the entire free world was hounding at her heels, but that wasn’t quite what he’d been intimating.

  He pushed the hair back from her face, and it made her breath catch in her throat. “You’re runnin’ from something, Bree Sullivan. I’m just offering you a place to stop for a bit and collect yourself. That’s all.” Then, as if realizing he was touching her with far more familiarity than he should be, he dropped his hand.

  She almost sighed in disappointment and had to catch herself. He was right about one thing, she did need a break. She did need a place to stop and gather her thoughts, decide how she wanted to go forward. But while she’d expected or hoped to find some little out-of-the-way bed and breakfast or something, she hadn’t quite counted on this. Much less him.

  She was intensely attracted to him—there was no point denying that any longer. But now was not the time to be adding any complications to a life already far too complicated for one person to manage. Simple, he’d said. And yet she knew there was nothing simple about her life…or about this man. Staying under his roof might help her to solve some of her problems in the short term…but it would be sorely tempting her to create a few new ones at the same time.

  “I’m an author,” she said, quite abruptly. If she was going to stay here—and she realized even as the thought formed in her head that she’d already decided she wanted to—he had to know exactly what he was getting into. At least as it pertained to the life she’d led up until the moment she’d spun out into that gully. “I had a book out, about a year and a half ago, that sold very well.”

  She looked at him, waited to see if he put the name and the book together, but he simply continued to look at her. Could it truly be that she’d not only stumbled across a decent, generous man, but one who truly had no idea who she was, or anything about the phenomenon that Summer Lake had become?

  “It did so well, in fact, that I became something of a celebrity. I haven’t had much in the way of a private life ever since. And…and now the world is waiting for me to follow things up, and everyone is getting very impatient with me. Only…” She let the sentence drift, as the heavy weight of what awaited her out there lowered itself once again onto her narrow shoulders…and pressed heavily against her heart.

  He tipped her chin up, and she belatedly realized they were still standing deep inside one another’s personal space. And that she rather liked it. A lot. The part of her brain that was rational knew it was just a human reaction to something—or someone, in this case—providing much-needed shelter and comfort. But the rest of her, the parts that were trembling and quivering, knew she wanted to be far deeper in this particular man’s personal space than she already was. And for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with seeking safe harbor. There was nothing remotely safe about the way his mere proximity was tripping every sensory alert she had, and a few she’d had no idea she possessed.

  “The expectations we put on ourselves are usually what doom us the fastest,” he told her, his voice hardly more than a murmur. And then there was the way his gaze dropped to her mouth, before moving back to her eyes. Could it be he was having those same thoughts?

  The very idea made her press her thighs together against the instant need that sprang to life between them. Ridiculous, really, to assume such a thing. Certainly, he wasn’t having the same kinds of thoughts she was. She looked a fright and had been nothing but a nuisance to him.

  “I canno’ imagine having the weight of the world’s expectations piled on top of my own,” he went on.

  His fingers traced lightly along her jaw. She went perfectly still. He…the way he was looking at her…had he seen something in her eyes? Was it wrong of her to want, almost desperately, for that to be true?

  When she didn’t move away from him, he slid his fingers beneath the weight of the hair on her neck. “But at the moment, I can only seem to think of one thing and one thing only…”

  Her breath caught when he pressed lightly against the nape of her neck, tipping her head back.

  “And what would that be?” she asked, amazed she’d found the words at all.

  “Finding out what you taste like.”

  Her heart was pounding much as it had earlier, in the car, when she was trapped. Only now it wasn’t in fear and trepidation…but the rather exquisite torture of anticipation. If she allowed herself to think at all in that moment, she’d pull free, push him away. He was certainly giving her plenty of time.

  So she simply refused to think.

  Life had been too hard for too long, and she’d felt so guilty for hating what, by all rights, was a fairy tale existence most people could only dream of having. But the truth was, she hated that life. She wanted to be left alone to write, to pursue the craft she loved without all the hoopla and pressure. Right now she didn’t want to think about any of it. For far too long now, she’d felt very alone in a constant sea of people. Swimming in chaos and trying not to drown.

  It had taken almost drowning for real for her to step outside of that chaos. And into the arms of the man standing in front of her. One man, surrounded by nothing but serenity and peace…even in the midst of a raging storm. He was like a life preserver being thrown right into her hands. She could hardly be blamed for wanting to grab on to it—him—and hold on tight. The rest could sort itself out later.

  “So why don’t you?” she told him, shocking herself, but the hell with that, too. “Find out, I mean.”

  “I shouldn’t,” he said. “The offer to stay was no’ contingent on this, ye know that.”

  “So, if I asked you to stop, would you?” she asked.

  He instantly started to lift his head, to pull back. Without thinking, she reached up and slid her hand into the thick mane at the back of his neck, not pulling him closer, but keeping him where he was.

  “What if I’m curious, too?” she asked. “What
if I’ve been thinking about this, too, ever since…” She broke off then, feeling her skin heat up. Images of him, soaked to the skin, all but completely naked, flashed through her mind, and she realized that no matter how worldly wise she’d become over the past year and a half…in the ways that mattered at the moment, there was still a lot of small-town librarian left in her.

  His mouth kicked up a little at the corners. “Ever since when?” He shifted slightly, put a hand on her hip and held her close to him without actually allowing their bodies to make contact.

  Just the way he moved, the easy confidence he had in the way he touched her, moved her…made the ache spread. Words might be her life, but speaking them out loud to a man who was looking like he wanted to devour her whole, was suddenly impossible for her. She tugged his head a little closer. “Since I had enough sense to know better…and still wanted to, anyway.”

  His eyes grew darker and his fingers dug into her hip as his grip tightened. “I feel as if I’m taking advantage and I don’t do that.”

  Take advantage, she wanted to scream. Couldn’t he sense how rare it was for her to be reckless? She didn’t want him to be all reasonable and levelheaded, she didn’t want to stop and think.

  “I know I shouldn’t, but…there’s something about you, Bree Sullivan. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “So, we probably shouldn’t.”

  “Probably.”

  “Are ye tellin’ me to stop, then?”

  She gave him a slight shake of her head, her gaze never once leaving his. “I’d really rather you didn’t. I have been through a lot. I feel like I’ve been living my life for a whole lot of other people, because I feel I owe it to them for all they’ve given me. Even if I didn’t exactly ask for it, or expect it. It’s been a very long time since I did anything that was just for me, and to hell with what everyone else wanted. I took off this morning knowing I needed to get away, to stop the world and get off, at least long enough to ask myself some hard questions about what I want, about what I need. And where I want to go from this point forward.”

  “So ye don’t need me crowding ye, makin’ demands—”

  “What I need,” she said, with surprising force, “is to do whatever I damn well please. I’ve been so micromanaged for so long, I don’t even know myself any longer. I don’t want to overthink things, I don’t want to analyze. I just want to feel. I want to do what feels good and right and natural, without worrying to death about who might think what if I do this, or don’t do that. I just want, for once, to follow my instincts and the hell with everything else.”

  He surprised her with a sudden grin that made his eyes twinkle in such a devilish way, she should have had immediate doubts. Yet, all it did was make her want him more. After all, if she was going to jump, she might as well jump big.

  “If your instincts are tellin’ ye to come after me, ye might be more battle-weary than ye think.”

  His teasing just made him all the more attractive to her newly discovered renegade spirit. He made it easy to respond in kind. “I don’t know about that,” she countered. “I think I’m getting a second wind.”

  “Are ye now,” he responded, the twinkle still there, but his voice had dropped to a murmur…as his gaze once again dropped to her mouth. “I’ll have ye know we’re both playin’ with fire here.”

  “I can stand the heat,” she parried, secretly thrilled by her ability to do so. He called to something inside of her, and she discovered a side to herself she hadn’t known she possessed. A somewhat playful, demanding spirit she could never have owned up to before. And she liked it. Quite a lot. Perhaps if she’d been more in touch with this side of herself, she’d have been more insistent about creating a better balance to her life in the past year or so, instead of being a doormat to everyone who made a demand on her time, feeling as if she owed everybody everything for the success they’d made her into.

  He tugged her an inch closer. “I meant what I said,” he told her, his tone a bit more gruff, and a bit more rough with need. “I’ll stop if ye but give me the word. You’ve found yer haven, but that does no’ mean ye have to let yer host—”

  She took the final step and closed the remaining space between them, pressing her body against his. A small moan slipped out when she felt the proof of his desire for her pressing rigidly into her belly. “We’re consenting adults.” She looked up into his eyes. “I’m consenting, Tristan.”

  His eyes went even darker, if that were possible, and she felt him twitch, where he was trapped between their bodies. “I like the way my name sounds on your lips, with that accent of yours.”

  She smiled. “I don’t have the accent, you do. In fact, it’s probably the only reason I’ve fallen under your spell.” He was so much fun to tease, and it came so easily to her, she should be shocked. And a part of her was. But it felt like she’d been set free, to romp and play and be completely herself without fear of reprisal, very public reprisal. No, this was private and personal and for no one other than the two of them, as it should be. It was intoxicating, to be certain. And far too much fun to waste a second worrying about whether she should indulge or not.

  “Is that so?” He grinned again and moved against her, eliciting another little gasp of awareness from her. “I suppose we’ll just have to see about that, now won’t we?”

  “I suppose we will,” she breathed. And in that moment, the rest of the world fell away. For now, her existence was based exclusively on herself and Tristan, and the very private, exquisitely intimate world they were about to explore together. “So, what are we waiting for?”

  Chapter 8

  Indeed, Tristan thought. What was he waiting for? He’d given her every opportunity, hadn’t he? She was correct—they were consenting adults. So why wasn’t he carrying her off to his lair to have his wicked way with her?

  He was so rock-hard with need he was in pain. He should be ecstatic to have such a delightful surprise drop literally into his lap. After all, she was just passing through. And more than willing to while away a little of her time with him. What wasn’t to like? He couldn’t have dreamed up a better scenario.

  He looked down into Bree’s eyes, alive now with desire. So thoroughly filled with trust.

  It was that last part that was hanging him up.

  Not that he couldn’t be trusted. He was dependable and fair to a fault. And they’d clearly made no claim on each other beyond this storm-filled night…and whatever additional nights they chose to share beyond it. So why he looked into her eyes and felt…not guilt, exactly—he wasn’t taking advantage of the situation any more or less than she was, after all. But…something. Something more, or perhaps different, than he should be feeling if this were nothing more than a simple roll in the hay.

  There was that word again. Simple.

  And that, right there, was the crux of it. She wouldn’t be simple. He already knew her life was being lived on a far grander stage than some rocky, highland acreage dotted with nothing more than heather and sheep. Which was fine by him, as he couldn’t care less where life took her once she left here. Right?

  Right.

  Except she was smiling up at him, and he felt something shift inside his chest, in a spot very close to his heart. There was something about Bree Sullivan, something about the combination of her warrior spirit and her wounded soul, that reached a place deep inside of him. It made no sense—he hardly knew anything of her, really. But what he did know of her made him want to draw, made him want to create. It had been a very long time since he’d felt so moved, so truly inspired.

  Och, he thought ruefully, knowing why he hesitated in carrying her off to his bed. She’d captured his muse’s fancy, that was a certainty. But…the fear was, what if she went beyond that? What if she did what no one else ever had…and captured his fancy as well? Not that he was opposed to such a thing ever happening…he’d always assumed it would at some point. But as he was tied to this land, to his family’s he
ritage here, and to the way of life he’d carved out for himself, he’d also supposed it would be with a local lass, someone well suited to highland life.

  Not a Yank with no intention of hanging about.

  And yet here she stood, tempting parts of him never before tempted. She was a dangerous one, if his clamoring instincts were to be listened to. He was borrowing trouble by just allowing her to stay under his roof…much less in his own bed. She’d hardly warmed his arms, and he already felt the pull. He’d yet to even taste her. It made no sense. And much as he wanted to blame it on long-overdue physical need, he knew the difference between wanting to rut for the sake of it, and wanting…something more.

  It was his muse talking. Or that is what he tried to make himself believe. He was feeling a connection of spirit, but that didn’t mean he had to take it further. Like as not, they’d both have their fill of each other and be perfectly sated and more than happy to move on, leaving their time shared together as nothing more than a lovely reminiscence, something to be pulled out and remembered fondly at some future moment in time. His muse had been properly titillated, but his memory was the good and detailed one of an artist…he didn’t need to keep her around for constant inspiration.

  So stop being such a knobknock, he told himself. Take her to bed. Bury yourself in her sweet, welcoming body, and dinnae think of naught else but her pleasure and yours. She wants it the same as you…what in God’s name are ye waiting for?

  With perhaps a wee bit more intensity than intended, he tipped her head back and took her mouth with his. Mostly, initially, to get a move on before he could stupidly talk himself out of this amazingly fortunate set of circumstances. Any other man would have had her naked by now.

  But the instant he tasted her, the instant he felt her body go soft in his arms…the intensity became quite real. Need for more of her, all of her, right this instant, roared to life inside of him with such ferocity, that that alone should have been warning enough. But he was all done waging battle with himself. He was committed to it now, and the only thing that would or could stop him would be her.