by Anna Durand
"Don't tell me you're shy about taking off your shirt. The man who walks around buck naked in front of floor-to-ceiling windows in his apartment."
"That's different."
She smiled, her cheeks dimpling and her eyes sparkling. "How, exactly?"
I opened my mouth only to realize I had no idea how to justify my statement. I groaned out a sigh, handed her my glasses, and pulled my shirt off over my head. "Have it your way."
Catcalls erupted from the American Wives Club.
Emery cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Woo-hoo, Evan!"
"About time we saw some skin!" Erica called out.
I didn't even try to understand these women. They were insane.
When I glanced at Rory and Lachlan, they were smiling and laughing at their wives' statements. It seemed they didn't mind their women sexually harassing me.
"Can you see without your glasses?" Keely asked.
"Well enough. All I need to do is avoid getting smacked in the head."
"Everyone on the field," Iain shouted.
I slung the sash around my neck, letting it drape diagonally across my chest, and marched off to my doom.
Chapter Thirty-One
Keely
For an hour, I occupied a folding lawn chair alongside the wives of the MacTaggart men and watched them playing shinty. I'd never heard of the game before I met Evan, and I'd certainly never witnessed a match. Shirtless men dashed around the field carrying camans, which reminded me of field hockey sticks, and bashed the ball around with those sticks. Since this was a lawn and not an official shinty field, they'd drawn chalk lines in the grass---a circle in the middle and two semicircles at either side of it. They'd also created goal posts out of saplings that had their limbs sheared off. The nets attached to the goal posts looked well-worn.
The men moved so fast I had trouble following the action. Sometimes they would whack the ball while it was on the ground. Other times, they would send it flying through the air. Lachlan grabbed the ball and tossed it in the air, swinging his caman to send the ball sailing. Its arcing trajectory slammed it into the ground halfway across the field. Evan got hit in the shin twice but kept going without a pause. At one point, Rory tackled a Buchanan, the two rolling around on the ground like Greek wrestlers until Lachlan and Iain pulled them apart.
Rory and his opponent grinned and slapped each other on the back.
The match kept going.
I didn't know if wrestling was a regulation shinty tactic, but I had my suspicions these families liked to play rough and break the rules. Evan got tackled twice and later jumped one of the Buchanans, the two wrestling even more roughly than Rory and his opponent had done. Despite his reluctance to take part in the match, Evan gave as good as he got. He made two goals, inspiring raucous cheers and whoops from the crowd. I screamed louder than I ever had in my life. Evan noticed and gave me a thumbs-up sign, then blew me a kiss.
Logan MacTaggart, another in Evan's army of cousins, scored a goal by leaping in the air and whacking the ball. It barreled into the goal net, tearing a hole in the flimsy thing. Everyone cheered, even the opposing team. We ladies agreed that Logan was one tough player and, as Emery phrased it, "too hot to have been hidden from our view for so long." Apparently, none of my new friends had met Logan before Iain's wedding last year. He laughed and joked with his cousins during the game, but when he had the ball, he got a deadly glint in his eyes.
By the time the match ended, no one could remember how many goals either side had scored. They decided to call it a tie. Winning or losing was not the objective here.
Logan ambled past the ladies, smiling and nodding to acknowledge us. Sweat dampened his dark hair, and I could barely see his hazel eyes with the sun making him squint.
Evan sauntered up to me, his body covered in splotches of dirt and grass. Sweat dribbled down his temples. He had shed the blue sash but still wore no shirt. I'd never seen him rumpled and filthy. It was amazingly hot.
"I did all that for a bleeding tie," he said.
"You had fun, didn't you?"
He screwed up his mouth, trying not to smile, but finally gave it up and grinned. "Aye. Never knew getting dirty without a naked woman under me could be fun."
"Oh, don't worry. You'll be getting dirty with a naked woman as soon as possible."
"Yes, I will." He threw an arm around my waist and hauled me into his sweaty, filthy body. "Did I impress you with my athletic prowess on the field?"
"Definitely. But I already knew you're powerful and agile and have incredible stamina." I pulled his glasses out of my shirt pocket. "You'll want these."
He slipped them on and feigned surprise. "I thought I was holding Mrs. Darroch."
I punched him in the arm.
Just then, Iain approached us and slapped Evan on the shoulder. "Good show. We would've beaten the Buchanans if Matthew hadn't cheated on that last goal. It's all for fun, anyway."
"Yes, it is," Evan agreed.
His cousin gaped at him with sarcastic shock. "Evan MacTaggart is admitting shinty is fun? I think I hear the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse riding up the driveway."
"Don't tease him," I said, "or you'll never get him on the field again."
"Oh, he's in the cult already," Iain said. "There's no way out."
Evan shook his head at his cousin's comment. "Do cult members get to have showers? I'm covered in dirt and possibly spittle."
Iain looked at me. "There's a very large shower in your room. Malina put a sign on the door so you'll know which room it is."
"You'd better be giving us the downstairs bedroom."
"Aye, Evan, we know you'll want your privacy. Your room is at the back of the house away from the common areas. So go on, take your woman and enjoy the amenities. You've earned it."
I swore Evan blushed the tiniest bit, but he grasped my hand and guided me toward the back door of the house. We said goodbye to his family along the way. Most of them tromped around to the driveway to find their cars and leave. The Three Macs---which was, I'd learned, what Iain called his three cousins Rory, Lachlan, and Aidan---hung around to chat with Iain and Rae and Evan's mom. Malina, who had cheered and screamed for her dad during the shinty match, lounged in one of the folding chairs while her parents gabbed.
The teenage girl had marked the door to our room all right. It sported a bright-pink cardboard sign with gold glitter lettering on it and puffy lavender stuff glued around its edges. The sign read, "Keely and Evan 4ever." A red glitter heart surrounded the words.
"Well," I said, "we certainly won't get confused about which room is ours."
"I'm familiar with Malina's love of glitter and the color pink." He pushed the door inward. "Welcome to your suite, Miss O'Shea."
He threw me over his shoulder.
I yelped. That fact he wanted to carry me wasn't a surprise, but the over-the-shoulder treatment was new. My hair fell around my face so I couldn't see anything when he strode into the bedroom and, as usual, kicked the door shut. He laid me down on the bed. I pushed my hair away from my face, spitting out strands that had gotten into my mouth.
"Take your clothes off," he said. "We're having a shower together."
I got undressed in record time, hurling my clothes across the room in my haste to get naked for him. Once I was nude, I jumped to my feet. While I'd been focused on my own clothing, he'd shed his too.
He crooked a finger at me. "Come, Keely."
"I think you're confusing me with a dog again."
"Not that kind of 'come,' Keely."
"Oh." I trotted toward the door of the attached bathroom. "I like the sound of that."
He slapped my bottom as he sprinted past me.
We got the water good and steamy and stepped inside the glass-enclosed shower. Iain had not exaggerated. This was a MacTaggart-size shower. It featured five heads each pulsating water over our bodies, and even a bench seat.
I poured soap i
nto my hands and lathered it up. "Time to get you clean."
He lifted his arms and spread his legs. "Have at it."
I started with his face. He shut his eyes and lowered his arms, letting me wash the grime off. He sighed, relaxing as I stroked his cheeks with my fingers and ran my palms over his forehead. Since I had him alone and in no condition to run away, I decided this was a good time to talk.
"Why don't you ask your cousins for help?"
"In what way?"
Done with his face, I squeezed shampoo out of a large bottle and began to work it through his hair. "You know what. The blackmail problem."
"There's nothing they can do."
"Oh come on." I massaged his scalp with my fingers, spreading the shampoo suds, gratified when he moaned and the tension in his muscles slackened. "Rory is a lawyer and the others have skills too. You could talk to them."
"No. This is my problem to solve."
"And you've done such a great job of that for the past year."
"Yes, I'm a raging eejit. We've already established that fact."
"I would never say you're an idiot." I touched my fingers to his forehead to encourage him to tilt his head back and smoothed my fingers through his hair to rinse out the shampoo. "You have been very self-contained, though. And you still think you have to deal with everything on your own, won't even let me help. The DIY method is not working, and you know it."
He groaned, a miserable sound rather than an erotic one. "Could we talk about this later?"
"Nope." I grabbed a big sponge from a little shelf and poured liquid soap onto it. "While I bathe you, my lord, you can explain to me why the hell you won't ask anyone for help."
"I asked Duncan Hendry to send a security detail."
"Mm-hm." I squeezed the sponge until the milky soap turned into white suds. "I bet you paid him for that and didn't share all the details about what the problem actually is. Right?"
"Well, I---" He scrunched up his face. "Yes, right."
The water had rinsed off most of the dirt, but that didn't stop me. I skated one hand over his skin while with the other I glided the sponge in big, slow circles. The suds dribbled down his chest, inching their way toward the trail of hairs that led to his groin. I let my hand follow the path of the soap, swirling my palm and caressing his flesh with my fingertips.
His cock began to stiffen.
"You like your cousins," I said. "I know that, but I guess you don't trust them---or me. Not enough to let us lend a hand."
He let his head fall back, his eyes half closed. "You're currently lending two hands, and I have no problem with that."
"Do I have to tie you up again to get a straight answer?"
"Wouldnae mind if you did."
My breasts brushed against him as I smoothed the sponge over his neck and shoulders and down again to his rippling pectoral muscles. I took my time, exploring his skin with my fingertips and laving him with my tongue when the steaming water had rinsed away the soap.
"I trust you," he said. "And I trust my cousins, but I don't know them very well and they don't know me well either. It's my fault."
"You have to stop blaming yourself for everything." I moved the sponge to his hips and slid it around to his ass. "Your cousins love you. I could see that from the moment they greeted you today. I get that you've always felt like an outsider, but it doesn't have to be that way. You are not a bullied kid anymore, and your family will not hate you for what you've done. Give them a chance to do something for you."
When I finished washing his tush, I couldn't resist giving his erection the same treatment. I squeezed the sponge to drizzle suds onto his length. He groaned again, this time a deep and resonant sound of pure pleasure. I stroked him lightly, grazing his balls with my fingers.
"Keely," he said, his voice huskier.
I gave him a nudge, and he turned to the side enough that the water cascaded down his torso and spilled over his dick, rinsing away the soap. Kneeling, I got to work cleansing his legs. The feel of his hair-dusted skin and those powerful leg muscles had my body awakening with a tingling warmth that suffused my body and a slickness that gathered between my thighs.
"Ask your cousins for help."
"I will consider it."
"Uh-huh. I know that's Evan code for 'no bloody way.' If you don't ask, I will." I pushed on his hip, waiting until he leaned back against the wall. I picked up one foot and bathed it too, massaging the sole until he was breathing hard, every muscle taut from his mounting desire. "Last chance. Ask them or I'll do it."
"Ordering me to---" He hissed in a breath when I accidentally grazed my hair against his erection. "I'll do it if and when I decide it's necessary."
So damn stubborn. I'd known this about him from the start, but never before had his pigheaded streak resulted in a potentially dangerous situation. Bodyguards were nice and all, but we needed to root out the cause of our problem.
Done with his feet, I poised my face in front of his cock. "Would you like me to relieve your pain?"
"No," he growled, his eyes blazing with unrepentant hunger. "Prepare for a good, hard fucking."
He grasped me around the waist and hoisted me up and off my feet.
I latched my arms around his neck. "Oh yes, please."
"You're always wet for me, but this time you're drenched all over." He pushed me back against the wall with his hard body pinning me there. His cock was trapped against my belly. "I will think about what you said---once I'm capable of thinking again."
That was good enough for me, for now.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Evan
In the morning, I brought Keely breakfast in bed. She was still sleeping when I sneaked back into our room carrying a tray of food, so I set the tray down on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed to marvel at the woman I loved. She looked so peaceful and happy when she slept. Her lips had curled up slightly at the corners, making me wonder what sort of dreams she had. Her hair had fallen over half her face. I swept it back, tucking it behind her ear.
She stirred but didn't wake up.
I kissed her cheek.
A breath whispered out of her.
"Wake up, Keely," I said, touching my lips to hers.
Her arms came around my neck, and she pulled me in for a deeper kiss. When she let me go, she smiled sleepily and stretched. "Good morning."
"Aye, good morning." I couldn't help admiring her breasts when she stretched again and the sheet slid off them. "I made you breakfast."
"Mmmm, yum. I'm starved from all that exercise last night."
"I did work you rather hard. Are you sore?"
"No, Evan, I'm fine." She sat up and draped her arms around my shoulders. "I'm no delicate virgin. I can handle you just fine, Mr. MacTaggart."
"Likewise, Miss O'Shea."
She traced the seam of my lips with her fingertip. "I do love it when you call me Miss O'Shea. Reminds me of the day in your office when you ordered me to hike up my skirt."
"You like it when I command you."
"Can't deny that."
I smacked her bottom. "Sit back. It's time for breakfast, Miss O'Shea."
Keely shimmied her hips as she backed up to the headboard. The sheet had slid away from all of her body except her calves and feet. Her stiff little nipples jutted out like signposts guiding me to my destination, but I needed to feed her, not fuck her.
"Ready to eat," she said, her gaze flicking to the lump in my trousers.
"Food, Keely, that's what you'll be eating." I grabbed her robe off the bedpost where she'd hung it last night. Handing it to her, I said, "Cover up. Can't have my woman catching cold."
"You weren't calling me your woman until after we came here." She slipped the robe on, covering her edible body. "I think you got the 'my woman' thing from your cousins."
"If you don't like it, I won't call you that again."
"Never said I don't like it." She fingered the
collar of my shirt. "Actually, I love it. And for the record, you are my man."
"Yes, I am." I picked up the food tray and set it down on her lap. The legs of the metal tray rested on the bed at either side of her hips. "I could feed you."
"That's what you're doing. You made me breakfast."
"No, I meant---" Giving up on explaining, I lifted the half-dome lid that covered the plate of food and set it on the table. I picked up the fork. "I meant I could feed you."
"Oh." She folded her hands on her lap beneath the tray. "Go on. Serve me."
"Anything for you." I pointed at the items on the plate in turn while I listed them for her. "Lorne sausage, link sausage, bacon, fried eggs, tattie scones, fried tomatoes, black pudding." I lifted the lid off a smaller plate. "Buttered toast."
"Holy cow, Evan. I hope this is for both of us because I cannot eat this much food and still be able to walk afterward."
"I thought we could share, yes." I tapped the teapot seated beside the larger plate. "I also made you some tea, Highland blend."
She bent forward to kiss me, nearly toppling the tray. "Thank you."
"Better wait to thank me after you've tasted the food." I glanced at the plate. "I should warn you black pudding is sausage made with pig's blood, with oatmeal as a filler. When Lachlan and Erica first met, he fed her black pudding without telling her it has blood in it until after she'd eaten it. She didn't appreciate that."
"Erica told me that story. She laughed about it."
"Today, she does. At the time, according to Lachlan, she screamed and punched him in the arm, then ran for the nearest sink to wash her mouth out."
"And Erica told me that's a myth. She did not scream, she yelped and slapped his arm."
"Either way, I don't want you to be shocked. You can eat the black pudding or not."
She leaned back against the headboard. "I'll try it."
"You will? Even Rae won't try it, and she's not at all squeamish."
"A month ago, I probably would've said no thanks. But you have opened me up to all sorts of new experiences and you've shown me the value of taking risks." She straightened and adjusted her robe. "I'd love to try black pudding."