by Gill, Tamara
She shut the door and turned the lock. Tamping down her nervousness, she twisted around and gave him her back. “Can you help me with my ties?”
A light brush of his lips against her shoulder and she reached behind, clasping his face. “Clothes first, my lord, then you may kiss me again.”
He chuckled, a low gravelly sound and she knew she’d never tire of him. Never not want him.
His nimble fingers made short work of her ties, pushing her gown to pool at her feet before her shift, stockings and slippers all followed soon after. Her body shook as she turned to face him, naked as the day she was born and so ready to be with the man before her.
The man she loved.
Sophie reached up and slipped his cravat loose, throwing it to the floor with her gown. She allowed her hands to drop over his chest and abdomen, taking pains to enjoy every facet of his body. His breathing was ragged as she pulled his shirt out of his breeches, sliding it up over his head to visually enjoy him as much as she physically could.
She devoured him, taking in every delectable thing about his chest, the small smattering of hair, his flat stomach and bulging pants.
Sophie bit her lip when she looked at the size of his manhood. He seemed even larger than he did in the lake and trepidation skittered down her spine that they may not fit.
“Damn it all to hell.” He swooped her up in his arms, closing the gap to the bed in only a few strides. She let out a little squeak when he threw her on the bed and she bounced once before he came down over her, pushing her into the thick, warm bedding.
“The way ye look at me. ’Tis too much.” He kissed her, stopping her from replying. Sophie took the opportunity to show him instead of saying just how much he affected her as well. How he was too much and not enough. That she would never have enough of him.
Their lips took a life of their own, both seeking, taking and teasing the other. Somewhere in the back of her mind a warning voice urged caution, but she could not. If she were to leave, then she would have this once. Lay with the man she loved. It would sustain her for the rest of her days and whatever future she had before her.
Her fingers skimmed down his smooth back, running over his bottom before reaching between them and undoing the buttons on the front. He moaned, urging her to touch him. He needn’t. She wanted to touch the hard yet velvety skin of his manhood.
She clasped him firmly and rolled her thumb across the top of his phallus. He pushed into her hold and she grinned. To have him at her mercy was a heady thing.
He threw her a wicked grin and kissed her before setting little bites down her neck, her chest, paying homage to each of her nipples. His tongue slid against the puckered flesh and little electrical shots pulsated to her core. Sophie writhed beneath him, pushing her body into him, silently begging for him to take her.
“Soon, love,” he whispered against her stomach, kissing her lower still until the warmth of his breath fluttered across her mons. She stilled at the ministration.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to sit up a little.
He pushed her back down, pinching one of her nipples and making her gasp. “Tasting ye.”
Sophie wasn’t sure what he meant, but when his tongue slid across her flesh in the most private of her places, his words became perfectly clear and not for anything would she stop him. For his clever mouth was once again driving her to distraction.
Brice didn’t know how he had allowed a kiss to lead them here, but now that he had Sophie in his bed, he’d never let her go. Not for family duty or expectation, not even for his clansmen. Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen in love with the lass and there was no going back now.
He tasted her with his tongue, teased her flesh until she was writhing in his hands, her fingers spiking through his hair and holding him right where she liked.
He liked it too. He teased her, pulled her close to her release and then took it away, inwardly enjoying himself immensely and wanting to prolong their time together. He didn’t want to go back to the real world. He wanted to stay here forever. In Sophie’s arms and in bed.
“Please, Brice.” His name was but a gasp and he came back up over her, using his hand to tease her sensitive flesh. “Do ye like me touching ye here, lass?”
He slid one finger into her wet heat and she gasped, closing her legs about his arms.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please, I want you.”
The words were precisely what he wanted to hear. He moved his hips to between her legs, guiding himself into her. She opened for him like a flower before the sun. He moaned as he slid into her, breaking her maidenhead, careful not to hurt her too much.
“I dinna want to hurt ye, lass.” He paused, giving her time to accommodate him.
She stared up at him, her eyes clouded with lust. “It’s not too bad. Please do not stop.”
Brice took his time before he sheathed himself fully. She was warm, and so damn tight. His balls ached for release.
“Ye are so beautiful, lass.”
She reached up, pulling him down and taking his lips. He thrust into her and she moaned against his mouth, making his cock rock hard. He tupped her fast, pinning her down. The need to see her come apart in his arms, to shatter before him was his whole focus.
Her legs came up about his hips, one sliding over his back and he clasped her thigh, pushing deeper still, harder. She allowed him take his fill as he brought her ever closer to release.
She thrashed under him, helping him to ride her and he’d fought not to lose himself. Her fingers scratched down his back, her core tightening even more about his cock.
“Come for me. Fuck, lass, come,” he demanded, his need overwhelming him.
She gasped his name and he kissed her, masking her sounds as she contracted about his cock, spiking his own orgasm and milking him for all he had.
He slumped beside her after a time, both their breathing ragged. Brice rubbed a hand over his brow, feeling the light sheen of sweat there. “Are ye alright, lass? I wasn’t too rough?”
She rolled over, coming to lie in the crook of his arm. He glanced down at her and his heart thumped loud in his chest. She was all softness, sweetness that he never wanted to part from. “No. You were perfect.”
No. She was perfect and he was a perfect bastard for taking her innocence. But what was the problem with that when she would be his wife? He would not let her go. Not now. No matter what Clan Brodie thought on the matter.
Chapter 13
The following morning Sophie floated about her room, her mind whirring with thoughts about Brice, of what he’d done to her yesterday afternoon and how they’d secluded themselves away, oblivious if they were missed or caught.
Her sister would skin her alive should she know what she’d done, but what was a little scandal when one was in love? And if anything was proven to her yesterday it was that she was in love with Laird Mackintosh.
She took a calming breath as her stomach fluttered with the acknowledgment of such a fact. Soon she would join the family for breakfast and see him again. After their actions she could not see any other possibility for them but to be married. Not that she’d lain with him to force his hand, but surely one could not say such sweet things, touch with such reverence and not care. Not want that person in their life always.
Sophie dabbed a little bit of rosemary on her neck and stood, taking one last look at herself in the mirror. “I will see you before luncheon, Gretel,” she said, watching as Gretel came out of the dressing room with two of her gowns in her hands.
“Have a good morning,” her friend said, sitting before the fire with what looked like needle and thread.
“I will.” Sophie started down the long hallway, excitement thrumming through her. She didn’t come across anyone on her way to the dining room, but upon entering it she knew something was wrong.
Elizabeth sat staring at her brother, her face ashen and Elspeth did not look much better. As for Lady Brodie she was blotchy and red. Sophie’s steps
halted. Was her ladyship angry or upset? When she turned, she knew what she was.
She was furious.
“Good morning,” she said, continuing into the room and hoping she’d misread the situation.
“Is it true, Sophie?” Elspeth asked, tears brimming in her eyes.
Sophie looked to Elizabeth and then Brice for clarification. Brice looked to Elspeth, sighing. “I’ve already told ye the truth. No need to ask Sophie about it.”
“Miss Grant, need I remind ye, young man,” Lady Brodie said, her voice cold and hard.
Sophie folded her hands in her lap, unsure if everyone had found out what they were up to yesterday, or if Brice had declared something that she wasn’t aware of.
“Was this yer plan all the time?” Elspeth asked, her eyes now as hard as her mother’s. “To come here and land yerself a rich husband? Were there not enough Englishmen in England falling at yer feet that ye had to throw yerself at my betrothed?”
Sophie gasped, looking to Brice. “You are engaged?” The room spun and she clasped the chair, hoping she’d not topple off.
“I’m not engaged, Sophie,” he said, turning back to Lady Brodie. “I never proposed to Elspeth.”
“Posh,” her ladyship snapped back. “It was expected. Wanted by both clans and ye dare come here this morning and tell me after our discussion yesterday that ye’ve changed yer mind. I’ll not have it, and nor will I let ye make a mockery of our family name or our child.”
Sophie looked to Elizabeth and the sadness she read in her friend’s eyes gave her pause. The union between Brice and Elspeth was expected all this time, and he’d dallied with her and she’d let him.
She cringed, shame washing through her. “I did not know,” she said, her eyes burning all of a sudden.
“Sophie, ’tis an old desire of my parents and Elspeth’s too that was made when they were ill.”
“Dinna ye be forgetting that Clan Brodie saved this stronghold financially so ye may inherit. What a way to thank yer friends. Throw a beautiful, strong Scottish woman out with the pig scraps for an English whore.”
“Do not insult Miss Grant again, Lady Brodie or I’ll be kicking yer ass out with the pig scraps as well,” he roared.
Sophie jumped in her chair, unable to comprehend what had happened. The day had started off so beautifully and now? Now it was what nightmares were made of.
“May I see you in your office, my lord?” she asked, standing and glad that her legs didn’t buckle under her. She fled the room, further insults flying at her back from Lady Brodie and the sound of Elizabeth’s voice consoling her ladyship and Elspeth.
Sophie made the laird’s office and went and stood beside the roaring fire, her body shivered and felt chilled to the bone.
Brice followed her, shutting the door as he strode in. “Sophie, I’m sorry. I dinna think they’d take my declaration to marry ye this morning so hard. Ye didn’t deserve such treatment.”
Sophie shook her head, not able to comprehend how he thought any of this was tolerable. “Did you allow the Brodie clan to think that you would offer for their daughter and only changed your mind when I came here?”
He glanced down at the floor, his inability to meet her gaze telling. “’Tis difficult to understand. There may have been a hope between the families, but I never offered marriage to Elspeth. I want to marry ye, Sophie,” he said, finally looking at her. “I want ye.”
“You only want me because your mind is still addled from yesterday. Had I not fallen over in Moy and hurt myself, and then been offered hospitality here, would you have married Elspeth?”
He ran a hand over his jaw, taking his time in answering her. “There is a possibility that would have occurred, aye.”
Sophie shook her head, ice running through her veins. What a fool she’d been. She’d risked so much, had trusted him and this is what was happening all the time. “You bastard. How could you? How could you chase me, allow me to think there may be a future between us when all the time you were planning on offering to Elspeth?”
He reached for her and she slapped his hands away. “When? When did you decide that it was me that you wanted, and don’t you dare lie to me, Brice.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw before he said, “Yesterday.”
Bile rose in Sophie’s throat and she clasped her stomach, scared she was going to cast up her accounts all over his highly polished wood floor. He came to her, taking her hand and she pushed him away, stumbling toward the door.
“You decided you wanted me,” she said rounding on him. “After you’d had your way with me. What was I to you, some plaything? A little English diversion before you settled down with your Scottish lass? Or did I merely meet with your exalted bedding standard and Elspeth did not? If you tell me that you had similar relations with her I fear my actions will not be my own.”
He held out a hand, placating her. “Nay, never, Sophie. I would not do that. Please understand, I did not think I’d meet anyone like ye. I canna think of anyone I want to spend the rest of my life with more than ye.”
Sophie stared at him, and damn it, a small part of her wanted to believe what he said. That duty was his only path forward until she had arrived and he’d fallen for her. But never had he talked of the future, only that he would miss her when she left. Surely had he planned for them to be together he would have spoken of dreams, of a future with them here in Scotland. But he had not. He’d not mentioned the word love at all.
She was a fool.
“I do not believe you. You’re not who I thought you were. I’m going back to my room to pack. I’ll be leaving today.”
“Sophie, no, please.” He strode over to her, taking her hands. “Please believe me. I dinna mean to hurt you or Elspeth.” He shook his head, seemingly struggling to find the right words. “I did not know that I would meet a lass that would make me question my word, my promise to my parents.”
She pulled out of his grasp and started for the door. “But you did hurt me, didn’t you, and your promise to your parents was broken the moment you first kissed me, so I do not want to hear such excuses.” Sophie shut the door behind her, her legs felt heavy and unstable, and using the staircase bannister she slowly made her way back to her room.
The house about her blurred with unshed tears and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying before the few servants she passed.
However would she face Louise? However would she face her future husband, whomever he may be now that she was ruined? No one would have her now. A little chiding voice beat against her ear, telling her what a fool she was, a silly country miss who had stepped into a world she wasn’t prepared for and had lost.
And the voice was right and so too Gretel. Too blinded by her feelings for the laird, she could not see or hear what was happening right before her. That he had played them both and she’d lost the game.
Damn Scots. She would never trust another.
Chapter 14
Spring ended and so too did summer in the highlands and the first snows of the season had started to fall and stick. It would be a cold winter this year, a hard winter. Not that he expected anything else. He deserved to be isolated, cold and lonely, especially after what had occurred in the spring when Sophie had been a guest here.
The thought of her, as usual, sent pain to coil in the vicinity of his heart. He leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes, wanting to picture her as they were the day before she’d left. Warm in his arms, gazing at him with such adoration and trust that he’d never want for another.
He shook his head. He’d made a right mess of things and true to her word she’d packed up the day after he’d taken her to his bed and hightailed it back to London. Her friend had written stating she could not come, which was fortunate as Sophie had left in any case, and he would not have known what to say to the woman had she arrived.
A light knock sounded at his door and his sister peeped around the threshold. “May I come in?”
He gestured for
her to enter, sitting up to lean over his desk. “Of course. What is it ye wanted to talk to me about, Elizabeth?”
She held a missive in her hand. Her demeanor, the worry lines about her eyes made him pause. “What is it, lass? Has there been bad news?”
Elizbeth worked her bottom lip and he was about to expire before she said, “I dinna want to tell ye before, but I’ve been corresponding with Sophie the whole time she has been back in England. I’ve had news today from her.”
Everything in his body came to life at the sound of her name aloud. Elizabeth had not mentioned Sophie to him, not since the day she had left. “What does she write?”
Does she ask of me? Is she well? Is she happy?
“She’s betrothed to be married.”
“The hell she is.” He surged to his feet, sending his chair backward to crack on the mahogany floor. “To whom?”
“Does it matter?” Elizabeth said, watching him warily. “Ye let her go.”
He gaped at his sibling, having never heard her say something to him like that before, cutting and condescending as if Sophie’s leaving was his fault.
Well, aye, it was his fault, but he had tried to get her to stay. To believe what he was saying. He’d been a fool, a blind idiot, but he would have married her. Would have loved her had she only given him a chance.
“Ye let her believe that ye never loved her. Did ye tell her before she left or did ye allow her to return to England thinking ye’d ruined her without a shadow of shame upon yer soul?”
Brice stilled at Elizabeth’s words. “Ye knew?” He strode to the window, ripping the curtains back to see outside.
“Of course I knew ye’d ruined her. She all but glowed the morning she walked into the breakfast room and before Lady Brodie tanned yer hide, ye too looked like a cat who’d licked the cream.” Elizabeth shook her head at him, her eyes hard with annoyance. “Ye need to fix this problem before it’s too late.”
