“I do indeed.” She caught the flash of a reckless smile, before he pushed the door shut and trapped her in darkness vibrant with anticipation. In the closed room, the scent of pine from the Christmas greenery around the walls was heady enough to make her dizzy.
Or perhaps the pine branches had nothing at all to do with her giddiness.
“I’ve never been kissed,” she said softly.
His groan came from somewhere above her. He’d moved closer. Her eyes slowly adjusted, and she made out the shape of his tall, lean body against the black. “Dinnae say things like that. What about all those kisses under the mistletoe ye told me about?”
“I was about six. I don’t think they count.” She paused. “I suppose you think it’s shocking that I’ve never kissed a man the way a woman does.”
“No, not shocking, arousing.” When he shaped his hands around her face, the air jammed in her throat. “And cruel when I only have ye to myself for a minute or two.”
The hands cradling her face were unsteady, and he was close enough for her to hear the erratic rhythm of his breath. In her wildest dreams, she’d never imagined Brody Girvan saying such things or shaking with need for her.
The Brody of her girlish fantasies had been a poor-spirited creature, who spouted bad poetry and begged for the privilege of holding her hand. The real version was much more dynamic and enthralling. It was a good thing she didn’t love him anymore, or she’d be quite beside herself and likely to do something stupid.
“You’d better make the most of the opportunity,” she was startled to hear herself say. The old Elspeth would never have found the nerve to encourage a young man’s attentions. It seemed changing her hair and clothes had changed a few other things as well.
And about time, too.
“Ye don’t have to ask twice, my bonny.” With a husky laugh, he tilted her face up and brushed his lips across hers.
Her first kiss. And from a beautiful man like Brody. How utterly…marvelous. A tingling thrill rippled through her, tightening her skin and making her toes curl in their blue satin slippers. She twined her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in the silky hair at the base of his skull.
Another touch of his lips drew a yearning whimper from her, and she stretched up to get closer. This time, he lingered over the kiss, flicking his tongue along the seam of her lips.
She was trembling, and her knees felt likely to collapse. Had she said she was cold? She doubted she’d ever be cold again. Delicious heat licked along her veins and made her feel strange and wonderful. And powerful.
Brody released her face and lashed his arms around her, dragging her into his body. The kiss became more intent, and instinctively she parted her lips, seeking more of his taste. He gave a deep growl of satisfaction, and his tongue slipped through to dance against hers.
How bizarre. Elspeth made a muffled protest and stiffened, while the waves of tremulous pleasure washing through her turned to throbbing need.
He raised his head, and when he spoke, his breath was warm on her face. She caught the smoky honey tinge of Fergus’s whisky, the same flavor she’d tasted on Brody’s lips. “This is torture. I want to keep ye here forever.”
She’d started to yearn up toward him again, before she realized what he’d said.
“I can’t stay.” She didn’t try to hide her regret.
“I know.” He sounded no happier than she did. “But there’s always tomorrow.”
Distantly she heard the clock in the hall strike two, followed a few seconds later by the delicate tinkle of the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece in this room. “Today.”
“Even better.” The thicker brogue told her he was smiling. “But I still dinnae want to let ye go.”
Despite her innocence, despite his expressed good intentions, she knew that with one word’s encouragement, he’d have her flat on her back on the chaise longue. Difficult as it was to remember when she quivered in his arms, she’d kissed Brody as an experiment, not as part of a life-changing commitment.
“You must.” Daringly she rose on her toes and kissed him briefly on the lips. Then she slid her arms free and turned to crack open the door.
“Is it safe for us to go?” he murmured, trailing swift kisses along her nape. Lightning bolts of sensation sizzled through her, and her breath caught on a stifled moan. Who knew her neck was such a sensitive area?
“Yes…” She paused, then pushed the door forward until only a sliver of light shone through. “No.”
“Are ye truly at peace with your father’s choice, mo chridhe?” Fergus’s deep voice was clearly audible from the hall outside.
“Si, certo,” Marina said. She and her husband were standing at the base of the staircase, by the sound of it. “It was a surprise, of course. Giulia seems a good woman, and there’s no doubt that they love one another.”
“Aye, he’s smitten, all right. But ye and Ugolino were alone together as a family for a long time. This woman is stepping into your mother’s place.”
“Caro, you’re sweet to worry about me.”
“Of course I worry about you, ye mutton-headed lassie. I love you.”
“And I love you, Mackinnon.”
There was a pause, when Elspeth guessed that the couple kissed. It was a private moment. She shifted uncomfortably and felt Brody’s arm slide around her waist. He bent to nibble another line of kisses across the back of her neck, and she bit back a gasp as a wealth of nerve-endings stirred into charged life. Her nipples hardened against the soft lawn of her shift, and the secret places in her body softened and turned liquid.
“Stop it,” she said on a breath.
As she should have expected, that provoked another kiss, this time under her hairline. Her knees wobbled, and she sagged, grateful that his powerful arm held her upright. It would be humiliating to crumple into a heap of feminine enjoyment at his feet.
“He could have broken the news better,” Fergus said with a hint of grimness.
“Knowing Papa, he hoped to avoid a scene by presenting us with a fait accompli. Anyway, he did give me some warning. Before we married, he told me that he was going back to Florence to find a nice, comfortable widow. I’d been too selfish to see that he was lonely, traveling around with just me for company.”
“Och, you have such a generous heart, Marina. You put me to shame.”
“Cielo, come upstairs with me now, and if you’re good, I’ll show you just how generous I am, my fine Highland laird.”
He laughed softly. “I’m always good, mo leannan. Haven’t ye worked that out yet?”
“Oh, so arrogant!” Their voices faded as they climbed the steps. “It’s lucky for you that you’re charming along with it.”
Once she was sure Marina and Fergus had gone, Elspeth cautiously opened the door. “I have to go, before the servants start snuffing the candles.”
“I know,” Brody said, the heat of his body burning along her back. He kissed her neck again with predictable results. Dear heaven, how on earth would she sleep after all this excitement?
“Will you stop doing that?” she hissed, shifting against him and making him groan.
“Ye like it.”
“Of course I like it,” she said impatiently. “That’s the problem.”
He laughed.
“Shh!”
He lowered his voice again. “I’ll see ye tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
He still didn’t let go, although his hold loosened. She could get away if she wanted, but right now, she was having too good a time. The prospect of her departure made him miserable. How glorious. After he’d disregarded her for so long, she couldn’t help basking in his sudden interest.
“Alone like this?”
“We’ll see.” In all the years she’d longed for Brody Girvan across an unbridgeable distance, she’d never imagined she’d feel brave enough to tease him. Tonight, the distance shrank to nothing at all.
She knew what they did was a game. Neither of them took
it seriously. But she’d loved his kisses, and she hoped to heaven he’d kiss her again before Christmas was over.
The wish came true faster than she’d expected. Brody twisted her around and kissed her lips. “You should go.”
“I should.” Really she’d have to do something about reinforcing her legs, if he was going to make a habit of kissing her. Her knees were back to imitating wet string. “Good night, Brody.”
“Good night, mo chridhe.”
She stiffened in his grasp. He called her his heart, and she knew he didn’t mean it the way Fergus did when he used the endearment to Marina. Even an innocent like Elspeth understood that insincere avowals were part of a flirtation, but this one cut a little too close to the bone.
Her voice was shaky when she spoke. “Carry your mistletoe when next we meet.”
“It’s in my pocket, and that’s where it will stay.” His lilting Highland accent warmed and deepened.
“Good. You never know, it may come in handy.” She paused. “Then again, it may not.”
“Elspeth, ye wee besom…”
She disentangled herself, and this time slipped out of the morning room without his interference. Brody didn’t follow, which turned out to be fortunate. The maids, Kirsty and Rowena, emerged from the hall carrying trays of dirty glasses.
Elspeth wished the girls good night and prayed that the frail candlelight was kind enough to hide all the signs that she’d just enjoyed a thorough kissing from a roguish laird.
Or perhaps not quite thorough enough. She shivered again—it had been quite a shivery evening all round—to recall that strange, but wildly thrilling moment when his tongue had dipped into her mouth. She’d never imagined anyone doing such a thing, but tasting him so deeply, however fleeting the incursion, had sparked her carnal interest. What she’d felt in Brody’s arms was a million miles away from her milksop fantasies.
At least tonight had banished those juvenile absurdities forever. Her difficulty now was to avoid becoming addicted to his touch—and to make sure that he didn’t mistake her willingness to swap a few playful kisses for a desire to take things further. If he compromised her here at a family party, a proposal would be the inevitable result.
Pursuing a flirtation and preserving her virtue required a risky balance, for his sake and hers. Elspeth had no intention of accepting a reluctant bridegroom.
Her sensual curiosity must remain unsatisfied. A conclusion both unwelcome and inescapable.
But more kisses? More kisses, if she was careful, should be safe enough.
As she stepped onto the landing at the top of the staircase and headed for her room on feet lighter than air, her lips curved in a greedy smile.
Chapter 10
The next day, the weather improved enough to permit the promised riding excursion. Brody was happy to get out of the castle. However large the accommodations, days cooped up inside were difficult for a man of active habits. He welcomed the opportunity to gallop across the snowy hillsides, and cast his eyes over the wide vistas of his cousin’s estate, and breathe air straight off the top of the mountains.
Not to mention that a ride in the open might provide a chance to coax Elspeth away for more kisses.
It was years since he’d pursued a lady with no purpose beyond kissing. To his shame, he had to go back to when he was fourteen and madly in love with the miller’s pretty daughter at Invermackie.
Pretty Polly Macrae was still as plump as a pigeon. She lived happily on the estate, with her husband John Robertson, the blacksmith, and four red-headed children. While Brody’s interest in Polly had long since faded, he’d retained his early weakness for a soft armful of sweet woman. A soft armful like Elspeth Douglas. Why the devil had he taken this long to notice that Hamish’s sister was perfect for him?
The prospect of possessing her had kept him awake and itching with frustration most of the night. But he was prepared to master his impatience and wait until she was lawfully his. Then heaven help her, he’d set out to slake an appetite that only grew more powerful after last night’s tormenting, delightful kisses.
When he lured her into the morning room, he’d known that they only had minutes together. He needed to keep a tight rein on his passions. That plan had lasted about ten seconds, until the first innocent touch of her lips. He’d gone up in a roar of flame, while the temptation to devour her mouth and explore that luscious body had nearly overmastered him. Surely Satan himself had sculpted those sinuous curves.
He’d managed to act like a gentleman—or as much of a gentleman as a laddie could, when kissing a well-bred female behind a closed door. But maintaining his restraint had tried him to the limit. Once Elspeth promised to marry him, she’d better get ready for a quick ceremony. Or else he very much feared she’d be no virgin on her wedding night.
“Are ye all right, cuz?” Fergus asked curiously, trotting up on the big gray mare he always rode.
“I didn’t sleep too well,” Brody admitted.
His steamy fantasies of Elspeth kept him lagging behind the rest of the group. Ahead, riders strung out across the snowy hillside. Everyone had come outside this afternoon, except Ugolino and Giulia, who rested after their long journey. The children were chasing each other on their ponies. Prudence and Charity rode together, with Lady Glen Lyon a little further back beside Donald and Charles. Marina cantered ahead of the pack. Brody was surprised Fergus wasn’t riding at her side as he usually did.
Elspeth had set out with the others. Now he couldn’t see her.
Nor could he see Diarmid. Suspicion jabbed him with a sharp fork. Was she practicing her new kissing skills with her handsome cousin? Brody decided then and there, he’d brook no delay in getting his ring on the lassie’s finger. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. What better day to make a proposal?
He wasn’t by nature a romantic, but he knew Elspeth was. All those books she devoured were crammed with deeds of derring-do and larger-than-life heroes. He needed to ask for her hand with suitable panache.
Once she consented, just let that snake Diarmid try and look at her sideways. He’d beat the bastard to a pulp.
“Did ye hear me?” Fergus asked.
With a shock, Brody realized his thoughts had drifted away. Not since the days of Polly had any female distracted him like this. “What did ye say?”
“Actually I was saying you’re nae yourself this Christmas. What just happened proves it. Is there something wrong?”
Brody had assumed he’d concealed his recent restlessness from his friends. It turned out he’d assumed wrongly. “I’m thinking of making a few changes.”
“A new mistress?”
He couldn’t blame Fergus for jumping to that conclusion. With a sigh, he decided to confess his plans. After all, he’d told Hamish. Fergus also deserved to know. “A new wife.”
“Och, that’s braw news.” Fergus looked delighted. “Are congratulations due, old man? Who’s the lucky lassie? I hadn’t heard of ye courting anyone. I assume she’s a lady you met in Edinburgh.”
Marina had already discerned his interest in Elspeth. He was surprised she hadn’t confided that news to Fergus. “Not in Edinburgh. An old family connection.”
Fergus frowned. “I cannae imagine who.”
Brody frowned, too. “Elspeth Douglas, of course.”
“Elspeth?” Fergus sounded surprised. And not particularly pleased. With a sinking feeling, Brody recognized a reaction akin to Hamish’s.
“She’s a fine lassie.”
“Aye, she is.”
“And she’ll make a bonny wife.”
“She will.”
The silence that hurtled down was as bruising as a rockslide. Eventually Brody could bear it no longer. “You’re going to tell me I’m too selfish and shallow to make her happy.”
Fergus’s chiseled features could turn dauntingly stern. He’d never looked more the Laird of Achnasheen pronouncing judgment than he did when, after a sticky pause, he replied. “I know ye better than anyone else, I believe
.”
“Aye,” Brody said cautiously, aware that such a remark wasn’t likely to precede an expression of wholehearted support. “That’s true.”
“Do ye love Elspeth?”
Brody frowned again. Love? He hadn’t even thought about it. “I told ye—she’s just right for me.”
“But do ye love her?”
“I want to make her my wife. I want to live with her until I’m old. I want her to be the mother of my bairns. If that’s love, then I love her.”
“Och, it’s a start, I suppose.” Fergus’s shrewd gray eyes leveled on him. “But if you want my advice, you willnae marry that lassie unless ye love her with all your heart. It’s what she deserves. If ye dinnae love her like that, you’ll never make her happy.”
Brody shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. He’d never had a conversation like this with his cousin. With anybody. His mother had died so long ago, and his father, while a splendid fellow and a good laird, had avoided any awkward discussion of emotions. “I mean to do right by her. I’ll be faithful, despite what Hamish thinks.”
Fergus’s eyes sharpened. “You’ve spoken to Hamish?”
“Aye. He’s no’ in favor of the match either.”
“And what does wee Elspeth say?”
His hands tightened on Perseus’s reins. He hoped to hell she wasn’t saying “Kiss me, Diarmid” right now. “I havenae asked her yet. She’s given me cause to hope.”
A girl like Elspeth wouldn’t kiss a laddie unless she had honorable intentions. She wasn’t a hardened flirt like Brody.
Fergus still looked like he passed sentence on a sheep-stealing crofter. “You’re my cousin and my friend, Brody, but if ye break that girl’s heart, I’ll never forgive you.”
“I’m giving up my rakish ways.” Brody scowled at the big, auburn-haired man riding at his side. “I have some honor.”
Fergus looked unconvinced. “There are more ways to hurt a woman than taking a mistress.”
He supposed there must be, although he hadn’t given the matter much thought. Which didn’t mean he appreciated seeing the pity in Fergus’s eyes, as if his cousin was sure Brody had no idea what he was getting into.
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