She could live again. Not simply exist.
Then maybe she might find someone to fill the void in her heart and find a hint of the joy her life currently lacked.
And whose fault was that?
Connor had been spot on in his assessment. She liked to think herself strong and brave, willing to fight for the life she wanted, but what had she done to gain it for herself?
Nothing.
It was time for her to summon some of that pluck he talked about and change that.
Chapter 9
Rutledge is proving himself a fearsome man. By word and by deed. And he tried to force his kiss upon me, when it is his son he wishes me to wed! I am troubled doubly by the prospect now.
~ from the diary of Piper Brudenall, January 1893
The cramped spidery figures in the estate ledger were beginning to swim before Connor’s eyes when a light knock sounded at the door.
“Leave it on the table, if ye will.”
“Leave it? Wouldn’t you like to know what it is first?”
His head lifted at the teasing words and his eyes widened at the sight of Piper framed in the drawing room door. Blood roared in his ears with the ferocity of a lion he’d seen at the zoo in London. It thrummed through his veins with the primal need to pounce and claim his prey. Tamping back the urge, he leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a moment to properly appreciate her striking beauty.
“My dear lass, ye are a bonny sight in red.”
She tucked her head, a complimentary shade rising to color her ivory cheeks. “Thank you. It’s a pretty dress, isn’t it?”
“Nae more than the lady wearing it.” Nudging the ledger aside, he rose and invited her in with a sweep of his arm. “What brings ye here?”
In truth, he didn’t care what had prompted the visit, only that she was here. Within arm’s reach. That he felt animated and alive for the first time in days. Breathless with anticipation.
“Why did nae one announce ye?”
“I begged them not to. I wanted to surprise you.”
“And so ye have.”
“As for what brings me here…”
She stepped forward, the whisper of silk rustling. The folds of the skirt dipped between her legs with each step, outlining her long limbs. Connor swallowed and elevated his gaze, though it didn’t help. The skirt hugged her hips, trails of buttons and beads exaggerated her narrow waist and the pleats in her bodice, the fullness of her breasts. None which could compare to her lovely face or the cautious smile gracing her lips.
“I made some apple tarts for you. Hilde told me you have a sweet tooth.” She held out the basket she carried.
“Ye bake?” He took it with an appreciative sniff, the enticing aroma of cinnamon and apples made his mouth water nearly as much as Piper herself did. He peeked inside and snatched one of the tarts then he set the basket on the desk. He popped it in his mouth, savoring the tasty treat, and nodded his approval.
“Often.” Her cheeks grew rosy, pleased by the compliment. “In this instance, by way of an apology. I owe you one most sincerely. I regret accusing you of belittling my troubles the last time we spoke.”
Unable to help himself, he smoothed her hair back, silky and warm under his fingers. “Nay, lass. ‘Tis I who owes ye an apology. My words that day were compounded by my own troubles and unnecessarily cruel. I had nae place passing judgment.”
A nod rocked her head. “In any case, you were right. Harsh as it was, I needed to hear it. I have sat on my laurels when I should have been doing something more. I’ve given it a great deal of thought this week, and I thought to take your suggestion to go to America or Italy, perhaps. I’ll have access to funds from my inheritance once I turn twenty-one at the end of January. What to do in the meantime is the more pressing issue.”
Another gift of trust. He’d try not to fumble it this time.
“Would ye like to discuss it over a drink?” he offered. “Wine, perhaps, to complement our tarts? They smell delicious.”
“They were meant for you.”
“We’ll share. There’s enough there to tide us both over until supper, aye?”
She inclined her head. “Wine then, if you please.”
Piper’s gaze drifted from his broad shoulders down to his narrow hips as he walked away and a waft of heat and humidity akin to a mid-August day seemed to rise from beneath her collar to warm her cheeks. Fanning herself, she tore her eyes away and circled the room as he went to the sideboard to pour their drinks.
She hadn’t been in this room for quite some time, though it had once been a favorite of hers. The soothing color palette of grays and whites provided a more pleasant atmosphere than the gaudy crimson splashed on every surface of the drawing room adjacent to this one.
Letting her fingers dance over the curved back of the settee as she passed, she recalled happy evenings spent here. Playing games with her father and brother, or reading aloud to them from her typical spot on the well-cushioned satin hassock near the fireplace.
Idyllic times she feared she’d never recapture.
Shaking off the maudlin thought, she traced the delicate lines of a blue and gold vessel-shaped Sèvres porcelain vase on the marble mantel. It was more than a hundred years old, nearly priceless. That hadn’t stopped her from enacting pirate wars with it as a child, nearly giving her mother an apoplexy. Humor touched her lips as she moved on to pet the plush ivory and silver velvet damask wallcovering as she had when she was a child. When she’d naively thought it the most fascinating thing in the world.
It didn’t have a fraction of the appeal now when Connor was in the same room.
Alone with her.
The realization brought a blossom of heat to her cheeks, and she glanced at him from beneath her lashes. Thankfully, his back was still turned, so he didn’t see the blush or comment on it.
Although propriety and self-preservation both dictated that she leave, Piper had no desire in her to run away from him any longer. Only to him. With him. No fear, no misgivings. She knew she could trust him with her life.
And with every single one of her secrets.
Now that thought ought to frighten her, sending her fleeing toward the first ship to America. It didn’t. She had every confidence that he would never hurt her. Never.
In fact, he inspired her to believe he could provide something quite the opposite. Something she’d never experienced before. The potency of his presence, his nearness, had left her restless all week.
Even from across the room, awareness of his heady masculinity and powerful body danced over her, leaving a flurry of goosebumps in its wake.
Between them, a large desk sat in front of the north-facing windows overlooking the parterre that hadn’t been there before. A telephone sat on one corner. She hadn’t known one had been installed at the Grange and had never tried one. Curiosity nagged at her to lift the receiver and dial the numbers. Who would she call? There was no one.
Dismissing the dismal thought, she shifted her focus to the numerous papers and books strewn atop the desktop. Picking up one of the books, she read the title: A Treatise on Irrigation.
Making a face, she set it aside and reached for another. They were all of similar topics. Her farmer had taken the room for his office, it seemed.
Her farmer. Her mood soared anew.
Connor rejoined her, passing her a glass of wine. Piper took a sip.
“That one is particularly engaging.” He grinned playfully as she nearly choked on her incredulity.
“Is it really?”
“Aye. I couldnae put it down.” His eyes twinkled with humor. “Have ye an interest in the subject?”
“I make a better stable boy than milkmaid, I’m afraid.” She read the spine of the book she’d just picked up. “The Practical Landowner,” she read. “Volume six? My, my. One through five must have been enthralling to have held your attention through such eloquent prose as”—she flipped open to the middle of the book and read—“‘The advantages of
draining are very great. It makes possible the working of soil shortly after the heaviest rain, so that crops can be put in early, or in the short interval before another rain comes on.’” She smiled, flashing her alluring dimple. “I’d wager you cannot stop yourself from plowing right through them.”
Connor rolled his eyes at the pun, as it was horrible, and took the book from her. “I should take the advantage and rain my hand down on yer bonny bottom.”
He swatted her backside with the book and Piper jumped with a gasp. “You wouldn’t.”
Shooting her a wicked grin, he set the book aside. “Dinnae tem—”
The word was cut off before he could finish, rousing her curiosity. “Do not what?”
He remained silent, sipping from a glass of whisky. Thinking through what he’d begun to say, she came up with the word. “Don’t tempt you?”
Tempt him to what? Spank her? Or something more? How terribly exciting to envision any part of her bared to his eyes. To have him watch her with that same heat and hunger that had infused his expression the other day. The mere thought of it aroused her, as did the regard in his eyes now, until she trembled with it.
This was desire. For the first time, her desire. She’d heard enough conversation among the kitchen staff, and around the stables when the lads didn’t realize she was in earshot, to know the consummation of desire was often met with anticipation. With the right person, it offered the essence of what she lacked in life. Intimacy. Connection.
The sweet ache Connor summoned in her engendered a certainty that he was that person. It might be improper, even wanton to consider it, but she didn’t live by the standards of polite society anymore. She longed for him, wanted him to be the one to take her to those places beyond her comprehension.
“Have ye considered Scotland?”
“What?” She blinked at the question, so divergent from her train of thought. Considered Scotland for what?
“Ye said ye wanted to discuss yer options.”
“Oh, yes.” Drawing her thoughts back to the issue, she gave it a moment’s thought. “No, I suppose I considered the significance of distance above all else.”
“’Tis a bonny land.” His brogue was soft, rolling. “The Highlands, that is. Heathered moors, magical glens. Nay, dinnae laugh. I swear there’s a glen no’ far from my land, deep in the forest, in a steep ravine. Tree branches like a canopy above and a bed of ferns beneath yer feet. A stream runs along the bottom, the water clear as glass though the peat riverbed gives the illusion that it’s orange. This time of year, it bursts wi’ color.”
“It sounds enchanting,” she sighed as he took her hand in his, his calloused thumb tickling her palm.
“Ye could see it. Come wi’ me there.” He coughed awkwardly. His Adam’s apple bobbed and she wondered at it. “That is, until ye access yer funds and make a permanent decision.”
“I could.” It was somewhere between a question and a statement. Welcoming the prospect, yet not accepting the solution.
Going anywhere with Connor, anywhere at all, sounded magical. At the moment, she wanted him to take her to all the vague places her daydreams had him leading her.
Somewhere equally enchanting.
She longed for the chance to explore the possibilities. To see the fantasies begun in her imagination fulfilled in reality.
Turning her hand in his, she laced their fingers and contemplated the contrast between his sun-browned skin and her pale hand. Would their bodies be the same?
She slid her fingers along his, back and forth. The smooth glide of skin against skin summoned a new definition of the word erotic. A word she’d never truly understood until now.
His fingers tightened around hers, halting the sensual movement. “Do ye play golf?”
“No.” She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “Your sister does, I understand.”
“A family hobby.”
“You could teach me,” she said softly. “If I were to go to Scotland.”
“Or America,” he countered abruptly. “My brother Jamie is there. In New York. According to his letters, it’s a city one could lose themselves in.”
“Trying to get rid of me, Mr. MacKintosh?”
The descending twilight left the room cast in shadow, making it difficult to read his expression. His calloused fingers teased at her cheek, like a butterfly’s wing. “Nay, lass. Merely offering distractions.”
Now she was more confused. “Distractions?”
“I meant options.” He muttered something under his breath she couldn’t make out. “Och, lass, ye’ve got me thinking like a schoolboy. Muddling my mind wi’ other thoughts.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the sort I shouldnae be having.”
There was levity in his tone as if he meant to tease. However, it was forced enough for Piper to understand exactly what he was trying not to think about.
While it was all she wanted to consider. All she hoped to explore with him. Rash and reckless as it might be, she wanted him to lead her down that path. Thus far, he’d stunned her with the simplest kiss and left her lightheaded by doing no more than lifting her from a horse.
Connor dwelled on distractions and options, while she dreamt of that kiss that should have been hers. She longed for it. Given the current outlook on the subject, if she were going to have it…
She’d have to take it for herself.
She grasped his tie, and before he could react, tugged him forward. Their mouths met with the same shocking impact of that first brief kiss they’d shared. No gentle glide this time, but a fierce joining that nearly sent her reeling. Then his lips parted—perhaps to speak or protest—and her senses spun out of control.
Chapter 10
In all my wildest fantasies, there was nothing to compare to the sharing of a true, impassioned kiss. It was as if all sight and sound beyond him and the pounding of my own heart faded away. Even if I rode Dandy as fast as the wind, it would never beat so fast!
~ from the diary of Piper Brudenall, September 1895
He hadn’t imagined the sweetness of her lips. Raspberry and wine. More luscious than the delectable dessert. They parted beneath his, warm and welcoming as she wrapped her arms around him. Unable to help himself, Connor traced the edge of her upper lip with his tongue, then the bottom. A little shudder shook her, her arms tightening around his neck. Her tongue slid along his, tentative and trusting.
Connor allowed himself a moment to luxuriate in that sweet kiss before raising his head. “Dinnae.”
Sloe eyed, the lass tossed back her head. “Dinnae what?”
The words taunted and teased and damned if the minx didn’t reprise that kiss. Soft, honeyed lips teased his, rousing his appetite for more.
Raising his face in a silent benediction for help from above, he tensed against the rush of desire that seized him as Piper licked the length of his throat. A low rumble of warning shook his chest. She refused to heed it. Instead, she ran her tongue along his jaw and she bit—bit!—him on the chin.
The vixen.
His fingers slid into her hair and urged her head back. Staring down at her, he took in the hint of satisfaction and mischief in her eyes. “Ye ken no’ what ye do, lass.”
His voice was not even his own, but a thick, rough growl.
She smiled broadly when she well enough ought to be terrified. “I have an idea or two.”
She might as well have been Lucifer on his shoulder urging him to wicked deeds. There wasn’t an ounce of will in him with the desire to rebuff her challenge. With every fiber of his being, he longed to strip her bare and have his way with her. That was the scoundrel in him, the devil.
Regrettably, his conscience sat at attention on the opposite shoulder determined to talk sense into him. Regardless of her pseudonym, she was no widow. No woman of experience to dally with. For all her aptitude as siren and enchantress, Piper was innocent in so many ways. More in need of a helping hand than a pathway to ruin. He couldn’t press his advanta
ge with a clear conscience.
Alas, he couldn’t help but kiss her again either.
Curling his fingers at the nape of her neck, he stroked his tongue along hers. A low moan of satisfaction shook his chest. Hers? His? She was heaven, soaring and light.
Ah, she was going to leave him in a living hell of need.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he gasped for air and strength. Bloody hell, he wanted to help her and see her safe. That should be all. It should be enough.
It wasn’t.
He wanted her. More than a taste. More than a hint of the fire and passion that lurked below the surface, it was a consuming need.
Warning bells rang through his head. He had to put a halt to this madness before it reached a point where he would be hard-pressed to stop it.
Bells. No, that was the telephone. Running his hands up her arms, while doing his best to ignore the enticing strain of her breasts against her bodice, Connor used her as leverage to pry himself away to lift the receiver.
“Aye?” he rasped, aware that his voice was hoarse with the lust gnawing at him. “Thank ye.”
“Who was that?”
“Jensen informing me that supper is ready.”
“Odd way to let you know.”
“It’s something of a compromise.” He straightened his tie and took another step away from her. “I’d be happy to share the story if ye care to stay. Are ye hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
Her seductive huskiness did nothing to assuage his hunger for her. Quite frankly, he was starting to think nothing could. It was all he could do not to lay her back on his desk and take her hard and fast with all the furious passion raging inside.
Bugger it, if he ever were to have her, it wouldn’t be on a bloody desk.
Piper deserved better. And he’d want more time and maneuverability than it allowed, when it came down to it. Best he stop pondering the possibilities of the desk and set those lingering fantasies aside. Aye, but it was difficult task with her leaning back on it, watching him with wide, inviting eyes.
A Question for the Ages (Questions for a Highlander Book 7) Page 10
