The Highlander's Irish Bride
Page 30
“You’re quite good at it, you know. And you’re working me up into quite a state.”
He leaned down and pressed so tender a kiss to her mouth that unexpected tears gathered behind her eyelids. Kathleen blinked them back. She would not spoil this splendid moment with silly sentimentality.
Silly? You love him, you ninny.
“We cannot have that,” he murmured. “So what would you like me to do, sweet lass?”
She suddenly realized it wasn’t an idle question on his part. Grant was asking her something vitally important. Was she ready to step across that threshold of trust? Was she ready to fully and finally be with him?
Yes.
She reached up to stroke his bristled cheek. “Do everything, please.”
His gaze sparked even hotter. “Ye shall have everything ye want, and more.”
Then Grant reached over and swept her up from the chair. She quickly found herself nestled on his lap. The plaid blanket slid off her shoulders, exposing her stays.
With an appreciative murmur, he adjusted her across his brawny thighs. Kathleen blinked in surprise because his muscled legs weren’t the only things that felt brawny. Even through the sturdy wool of her skirt, she could feel his erection. It felt huge and hard, a little intimidating, and incredibly exciting.
“Goodness,” she said.
“Are you comfortable, love?”
“Um, quite. Thank you.” Then she winced, realizing she sounded like a henwit.
Grant didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy running his calloused fingertips along her collarbone.
“So pretty,” he rumbled. “And your sweet freckles.” He trailed one finger down to the top of her stays. “I’ve been wanting to see exactly where they go for weeks.”
“Everywhere, I’m afraid.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Then I’ll have a path to follow.”
“I’m glad they’re good for something.”
He didn’t reply, his gaze now focused on her body. His hand drifted down to cup her breast. When he swiped a thumb over the outline of her nipple, Kathleen bit back a gasp. He did it again, and sensation shot from the tip of her breast to deep between her thighs. When she squirmed to relieve the growing ache, Grant hissed out a breath.
“Och, lass,” he muttered. “You’re going to drive me mad.”
She pressed a steadying hand to his chest. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I will happily lose my mind to you.”
It was so silly that she couldn’t help but giggle.
He briefly smiled. “Kathleen, are you warm enough?”
“I’m roasting, actually.”
Between the heat pouring from the stove and Grant’s ministrations—not to mention her heavy skirt, stockings, and boots—any chilliness had long since dissolved.
He flicked the blanket away from her arms. “Then let’s get rid of this. By the way,” he added as he tugged on one of the blue bows trimming her stays, “you have very pretty underclothes. Have I told you that?”
“That would have been most improper, sir,” she replied with mock severity.
He laughed before pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, dipping briefly inside. When Kathleen sucked on his tongue, his hips jerked, pressing his erection into her bottom. Once again, a sultry heat cascaded through her body to settle between her thighs. She had a sudden mental flash of how that heat would feel with him buried deep inside her, and she couldn’t hold back a whimper.
“Och, lass,” he murmured.
He stroked his fingers over the swell of her breast, and then dipped down under her stays, brushing the edge of her nipple. The sensation was electrifying.
“Oh, Grant,” she gasped.
“More?” This time, he brushed right across the hard tip.
“Yes,” she managed in a strangled tone.
“Good. Because I want to see your pretty freckles,” he growled. “I want to see everything.”
He gave two hard tugs on the top of her stays. Her breasts popped free. Her nipples were dark and already stiff with arousal, and seemed to grow even tighter under his avid gaze.
“Yer so damn lovely, my Kathleen,” he growled.
His voice alone made her go weak. And damp.
Grant lowered his head to her breast. His tongue flicked out, laving the tight point. Kathleen wriggled, silently urging him to increase the pressure, but he kept a firm grip as he gently tortured her into a state of near frenzy.
He went from one breast to the other, teasing and tweaking until her nipples were flushed and hard. Sensation pulsed through her body, and she had to bite on her lip to keep from groaning.
“Make as much noise as you want,” he rasped out. “It’s just me.”
She clamped a hand on the back of his skull, jerking him down for a frantic kiss. As their tongues tangled, his arm locked around her shoulders.
A moment later, he broke free of her greedy kiss.
“Grant,” she moaned. “Don’t stop—”
She bit off her words as he squeezed a nipple between his fingertips. Then he bent down, and his mouth was on her. She jerked and probably would have tumbled out of his arms, but he held her tightly. He lavished attention on her breasts, kissing her nipples before sucking them into his mouth.
Kathleen’s world went up in flames. Outside, rain beat against the windowpanes, and a cold wind howled overhead. But inside everything was hot and wet, her body craving him, making itself ready. She arched her back, pressing her breast against his lips, giving him everything.
A moment later, he pulled back.
“Why . . . why are you stopping?” she stuttered.
“I’m not.”
He fisted a hand in her skirt, sweeping it up to her belly. Kathleen trembled, shocked and excited to be so suddenly exposed.
“Goodness,” she squeaked.
Grant settled a hand on her thigh, above her garter and stocking. “You are so bloody gorgeous, Kathleen.”
Her thoughts were so scattered, she could hardly muster a coherent response. “I have freckles down there, too.”
He flashed her a grin. “One of these days, I’d like to count them. And kiss them, each one.”
That sounded . . . wonderful.
“That will take quite a while,” she replied.
“Then we’ll leave it for next time.”
“Oh, very well,” she said, trying not to sound disappointed.
As odd—and as nerve-wracking—as it was to be so vulnerable, Kathleen did not want him to stop. Not when she felt ready to crawl out of her skin with restless desire.
He flashed her a quick look, his gaze like emerald fire. “Oh, love, I’m not done yet.”
“Really, it’s fine . . .”
The air caught in her lungs as he spread her thighs wide. His hand settled on the soft tangle of curls at the top of her thighs.
“So soft,” he murmured. “So damn pretty.”
Kathleen trembled as she watched him play with the curls hiding her sex. It was thoroughly wanton, and she found his touch almost unbearably exciting. But Grant also cradled her so protectively, and his gaze held such tenderness—even awe—that she had to blink back tears.
“All right, lass?” he murmured.
She smiled at him. “Aye, that.”
He gently cupped her sex and kissed her with a passion that set her on fire. When he parted her folds, Kathleen moaned against his lips.
And then he played with her, murmuring husky, erotic encouragement. Grant slicked his fingers over her until she was trembling, aching for release. Stifling a cry, she arched her back, pushing against his hand to increase the tormenting, delicious pressure.
“Och, that’s my beauty,” he purred.
He teased her, circling the hard bud, making her strain for his touch.
“Grant,” she finally gasped out. “Please!”
He leaned down and briefly nuzzled her mouth. “Ye are so ready, so hot. I want ye to come, now.”
He pushed back, right on the aching knot of her sex. Then he slowly pressed two fingers inside her tight, slick channel. She cried out as waves of luxurious contractions rippled out from her core. His hand moved over her, inside her, urging her to release.
Kathleen squeezed her eyes shut as Grant flung her body up to the heavens. Starlight burst under her eyelids as she surrendered to the most intense pleasure she’d ever felt. She was weightless, and almost terrifyingly free.
Then he caught her as she fell back to earth, gently kissing her forehead and cuddling her in a protective embrace.
The storm had passed, both inside and out. As Kathleen drifted back to sanity, she became aware of the silence. Over the pounding of her heart, she heard only a gentle rustle of fabric as Grant smoothed down her riding skirt and tucked the blanket around her.
She rested against him, her face turned into the soft wool of his vest, savoring the moment and absorbing it into every fiber of her being. She breathed in his scent of rain and whisky, smoky peat and crisp Highland air. It was utterly and completely Grant.
Part of her wished this moment would never end. Part of her wished she didn’t have to sit up, straighten her clothes, and reenter the world with all its problems. Because she was exactly where she wanted to be.
As the seconds slid by, Kathleen let herself drift in a lovely haze. Eventually, though, Grant shifted her a bit and brushed a tangled lock of hair from her brow.
“All right, Kath?”
She mentally blinked at the gruff, decidedly unromantic tone of his voice. It was a marked change from only a few minutes ago.
“Yes, thank you.”
She tilted her head back so she could see his face. His features were in shadow, which made it difficult to read the expression in his eyes. But his mouth was quirked up in a wry smile that was also difficult to read.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He leaned down to nuzzle her mouth. When she pressed a hand to the back of his neck, trying to hold him there, he huffed out a chuckle before pulling back—reluctantly, she thought.
You hope.
“Never better,” he finally said. “And I would like nothing better than to tuck you up into that bed and pamper you for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, we don’t have time. The storm’s passed and we’ve got to go before we completely lose the light. The path is bound to be a mess after all that rain. It’ll be rough enough on the horses without having to navigate in the dark.”
While Kathleen couldn’t argue with his logic, she’d been hoping for something a little less prosaic and a little more romantic than a discussion about horses and mud. Still, best not to make a fuss over it, she supposed.
“Of course.” She struggled to right herself. “Quite correct.”
His burnished brows ticked together in a frown. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Perfectly. Now, if you can help me get upright . . .”
“Oh, yes. Sorry.”
He tipped her up and then helped her stand. Since her legs still felt like jelly, she struggled a bit to find her balance.
“Easy.” Grant kept his hands on her waist. “We don’t want you—”
“Going arse over teakettle. Indeed not. Now, would you be so kind as to fetch my jacket while I try to, er, arrange myself?”
She tugged on the top of her stays, trying to restore them to some measure of respectability. Grant had been quite enthusiastic when he’d yanked them down.
“Sorry about that,” he said with a wince.
He sounded embarrassed, which was ... embarrassing.
Kathleen tugged once more before giving up with a sigh. “It’s fine. The jacket will cover any defects—if it’s dry by now.”
“Right. The jacket,” he said, coming to his feet.
He plucked it off the chair, carefully feeling it for damp spots.
“Seems completely fine.” He handed it to her.
She dumped it on the table before commencing a struggle with her skirt, which was a wrinkled mess and twisted backward. The wrinkles she could blame on spending several hours on a horse and then getting caught in the rain.
“I’m glad something’s fine,” she muttered.
Grant, pulling on his riding jacket, paused to shoot her a quick frown. “What’s wrong, Kathleen?”
She finally got her skirt more or less sorted, then realized that one of her stockings had sagged down to the top of her boot. “Oh, blast.”
He came over to the table. “Can I help?”
“No, thank you.” She half turned away from him as she retied her garter.
“Lass, what is amiss?” Grant enunciated every word, as if she were a dimwit.
She fussed with her skirt a bit more, working up her courage before turning to face him.
He loomed over her, arms crossed over his brawny chest, a concerned frown marking his brow.
She hoped it was concern for her welfare, and not something else.
So, find out.
“Are you having second thoughts?” she bluntly said.
He looked blank for a few seconds. Then he shook his head before tipping up her chin and giving her a brief, hard kiss.
“Don’t be daft. I’m simply anxious to get you safely back home. I don’t want you taking a tumble off your horse in the dark.”
“I have never taken a tumble off a horse in my life.”
“Splendid, but there’s no point in taking chances.” He pulled out a small silver watch from an inside pocket and then grimaced. “Bloody hell. It’s even later than I thought. The entire damn household will be in a stew. First Jeannie disappears and now us.”
Ah. So that’s why he was acting so oddly. He was worrying about how their extended absence would appear. It would certainly raise questions that might be difficult to answer. Ones Grant might not want to answer, given the potential consequences.
Consequences like propriety, a woman’s honor, and possibly even marriage.
Kathleen felt an awful twinge in her heart, as if something had just sprung loose and dropped to the floor.
Don’t think about it right now. Think about Jeannie.
She would sort out her feelings about Grant Kendrick later.
“Let’s hope Jeannie is home by now,” she said as she stuck her arms into her jacket. “If not, we’ll have to get fresh horses and go back out.”
Grant shrugged into his greatcoat. “When we get back to Lochnagar, you won’t be going anywhere but straight into a hot bath. We still have a long ride back on muddy roads. I will not have you catching a chill, Kathleen.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “As I told you, I am perfectly fine. And Jeannie is what matters most right now. I think we can both agree on that.”
He shot her a veiled look as he headed for the door. “Please try not to worry. Jeannie’s a smart girl. I have little doubt she’s home by now.”
“Well, I do have doubts,” she retorted.
“Then the best way to resolve those doubts is to return home as quickly as possible.” His gaze tracked over her, head to toe. “There’s a comb and small mirror in the trunk if you need it. I’ll saddle the horses and then we’ll be off.”
“What about the—” She broke off with a sigh, since he was already out the door. “Drat and double drat.”
Kathleen stalked over to the trunk, cursing Grant Kendrick and her silly lovestruck self.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The lights of Dunlaggan finally winked into view through the murky night. Grant threw a glance over his shoulder at Kathleen, slightly behind him.
“Not much longer now, sweetheart,” he said.
“Thank God. I just pray that someone has found Jeannie, since our efforts were an utter waste of time.”
Grant sighed as he returned his attention to the road. Whatever fire had remained from their romantic inter
lude had been snuffed out on the muddy trail back from the loch. The difficult footing had forced the horses to pick their way interminably back to the main road.
Increasingly fashed about her sister, Kathleen had wanted to cut over the fields and head straight back to Lochnagar. Grant had vetoed that as too dangerous, since the rough country was cut through with ravines and boggy ground. After yet another sharp debate, he’d pointed out that he knew the countryside better than she did, and that he’d be damned if he let her be injured by taking a risky shortcut.
Since that discussion, Kathleen had barely uttered a word. No doubt she thought him too cautious and too annoying to merit any further consideration. As for their sensual interlude, Grant was at a loss how to think about that. From what he could tell, Kathleen wasn’t thinking about it at all, which was more than a trifle discouraging.
He couldn’t really blame her. After all but ravishing the poor girl, he’d then acted like an unromantic prat. Of course, he’d wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off, and give in to the desire he’d been fighting for weeks. Not doing so had required an epic feat of self-control. But he’d had no choice, because making love to his sweet lass would have led to an inexorable series of decisions, practically forcing her to marry him regardless of her personal wishes.
As it was, they were already skating on very thin ice, with a full-blown scandal lurking in dark waters below.
His deep concern had led to his odd behavior. When she’d most needed cuddling and reassurance, he’d all but dumped her off his lap and rushed out to saddle the horses, so they could get back to Lochnagar with all speed.
Unfortunately, they’d been alone together for hours now, and it would take a deal of luck to escape their increasingly dodgy situation with Kathleen’s reputation intact.
They approached the first house at the edge of the village, which happened to be the vicarage. Light blazed forth from every window. Grant thought it might be worth making a quick stop, since the vicar would probably know if Jeannie had been found. If so, Kathleen could finally relax.
“Do you want me to see if Brown’s heard anything about Jeannie?” he asked.
Kathleen brought her mare up beside his. “I’d rather ride straight through. I truly don’t think I can face Mr. Brown, especially looking like this.”