Susana and the Scot

by Sabrina York

  “Your men will stay here,” she said.

  Andrew gaped at her. The room was swept clean and empty. A thin shaft of light from the far window illuminated it with a murky light. But the yipping from the kennel and the stench of excrement wafted up from below. For some reason, all thoughts of alluring backsides dissipated. Disbelief gushed through him. “Here?”

  She crossed her arms and offered what could only be described as a smirk. “Here.”

  He tipped his head to the side. “This is a kennel.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  “I have twenty-five men.”

  “The room is quite large.”

  “There are no beds.”

  She blew out a breath. “We’ll bring in pallets.”

  Andrew blinked. He set his teeth and tried to remain calm. His men were warriors. They did not sleep on pallets. In a kennel. “This will not do.” Surely she saw that. Surely she understood … He caught a glimpse of her smug expression and it dawned on him.

  She did. She did understand. She knew damn well what she was doing. Her response only verified his suspicions.

  “I’m sorry, but you’ve descended upon us with no warning whatsoever with a large group of men. I’m afraid this is all we can offer you at this time.” Her smile was deferential, but hardly sincere. The light dancing in her eyes lit a flame in his belly. “Of course, if our accommodations are unacceptable, you can always return to Dunnet…”

  Oh, she’d like that, wouldn’t she?

  The minx.

  Rather than the exasperation her self-satisfied look should have sparked, Andrew found himself filled with another emotion entirely. Anticipation. Exhilaration. The thrill of a challenge.

  For that was what she was, Susana Dounreay. A challenge.

  And it appeared she reveled in provoking him.

  A pity she didn’t understand he was a dangerous man to provoke.

  The tumult her presence sparked within him flared again, burning the edges of his resolution; an inconvenient lust blossomed, and with it an unruly resolve.

  He wanted, very badly, to kiss her. He wanted to wrench her into his arms and cover her sweet mouth with his. He wanted to taste her, consume her, possess her.

  And he would.

  Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who could swear off women. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who could keep a vow.

  So be it.

  Damn to hell his ridiculous vow.

  Damn to hell the fact that she was his sister-in-law.

  He was going to seduce this vixen, and he would start right now.

  Desire, like a snarling, snapping beast, rose within him, and he stepped closer.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Susana’s eyes flared as Andrew advanced on her like a hungry fox that had spotted a plump rabbit. She didn’t mean to retreat, but she had to. She’d seen that expression in his eyes before and she knew what it meant. Something within her howled: Run.

  Perhaps it was the expression in his eyes, or the knowledge that she was playing with fire, or the sudden realization that she’d foolishly come here, to this deserted loft, with the most dangerous man she’d ever met, but she couldn’t still the urge to whirl and pace to the far end of the room to peer out of the smudged window. She was aware he followed. She felt his presence like a fire in a forge.

  Desperation prompted her to continue their conversation, to put some space between them, to raise a shield. “The room is perfectly habitable,” she proclaimed. “And once we have pallets brought in, it will serve you well.”

  “Will it?”

  His voice was low in her ear, a whisper almost. And far too close. She wanted to turn, to confront him, but she knew, if she did, they would be face-to-face, perhaps lip-to-lip, and she could not allow that. She could never allow that.

  The last time he’d kissed her, it had been her undoing.

  A pity he didn’t remember.

  “My men willna like being housed with the dogs.” Holy God. Was that his hand on her hip? His thumb tracing her waist? “Nae doubt they will all want to find … other beds to welcome them.”

  Susana stilled as his words sank in. The threat was clear. And it was rather horrifying. A horde of randy warriors set loose on the innocent maidens of Dounreay? That his hand slid over to toy with the small of her back, to tangle in the skeins of her hair, didn’t help.

  Her pulse thudded and her knees went weak. She couldn’t have it. She couldn’t have this man touching her. She sucked in a breath and slipped to the side, out of his grasp. When she was far enough away for some measure of safety, she turned to face him, a reproachful look fixed on her face. “Are your men so lacking in discipline?” She hoped her frown, her reproving tone, would bring him to heel. She should have known better.

  He grinned and stepped closer. His eyes glinted, as though needling her was an amusing sport. “They are verra disciplined … when their needs are met.”

  She crossed her arms, as though that could protect her, and pretended to study the room. Pretended she wasn’t aware of his thrumming presence, his heat, his intent. “Well, I shall hold you responsible for any … improprieties.” She took a step toward the staircase, only a tiny one—surely not an attempt at escape.

  He chuckled—chuckled, the bastard—making it clear he recognized her cowardice for what it was. And he paced her.

  “They’re all good men. They all volunteered to come with me. Each and every one of them is dedicated to the cause of protecting Reay from the villains who have been plaguing you. However…”

  The way he trailed off derailed her retreat. She stilled. Glared at him. “However, what?”

  “However, they do have … needs. Surely you can find better lodgings.”

  She blew out a breath. “In time.” In time.

  In time, he would be gone, God willing.

  He stepped toward her again, although nonchalantly, as though he were not chasing her across the room. It occurred to her they were engaged in something of a macabre dance. It set her nerves on edge. She hadn’t realized what a long room this was, or how far it was to the stairs.

  “Doona leave it too long.” His smile was heinous. It made all kinds of shivers dance over her skin. “My men are … restless.” She had the chilling sense he was talking about himself.

  “I shall … do my best.” Like hell. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have things to do.”

  His brow quirked. She tried not to notice what a perfect brow it was. “Ah, but I thought you and I could … talk.”

  “Talk?” She didn’t intend to squawk, but she could tell from his predatory stance, a conversation was not the primary urge on his mind. At least, not one with words.

  He nodded. Though his features were patently earnest, the sincerity was patently affected. “About the defenses you have in place … so I can decide what needs improvement.”

  Aggravation rippled. It displaced her concerns about being here, with him, all alone. Fury did that, she’d often found. Overrode common sense and led one into dangerous waters. Her hands curled into fists. She strode toward him until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “Nothing needs improvement,” she snapped. They didn’t need him. Or his men. Or his stupid ideas.

  “Nonsense. Now that we’re here, we intend to make a statement to Stafford, or whatever miscreants are lurking out there thinking Dounreay is an easy target. But before I set my plans in motion—”

  “Your plans?” He already had plans? Och! He was so exasperating.

  She barely noticed that he stepped closer … until their chests brushed. He was hard and hot; the touch made her tingle. His voice, low and luring, made her tingle as well. His gaze skated over her face, then stalled on her lips. “Let’s meet and discuss—”

  Her pulse skittered. “I doona have time to meet with you. Not today.” She took a step back. He followed.

  “Nae?” A whisper. And his caress over her shoulder, that was a whisper as well. Like a panicked fawn, Susana eased back again. A
nd again. He matched her, step for step.

  She swallowed heavily. “I … You have descended upon us with no warning—”

  “My brother sent a letter.”

  He was too close. Far too close. She swallowed heavily. “Twenty-five men that now need to be housed and fed. On top of that, I have many other duties that need attending.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Which duties?”

  “Many duties.” She frowned and glanced toward the staircase. Ah, lord. It was so far … He was too warm. Too broad. Too alluring. Though she didn’t intend to, she took another step back and—

  Oh, hell. He’d backed her against the wall. That he couldn’t stand straight in the low-ceilinged room was a small consolation.

  “Susana,” he said as he leaned closer. His breath was a tantalizing trail over her face.

  An unholy thrill snaked through her. Surely that wasn’t anticipation? Hunger? Need?

  She could not allow him to kiss her. She could not—

  Her knees nearly melted at the touch of his lips. His warmth, his taste, his scent made her mind whirl. Thank God he had his hands on her waist and was holding her steady, or she might well have collapsed.

  It occurred to her that she should push him away, fight him, but she couldn’t. Something, something deep within her resisted. Something deep within her needed him. Needed this.

  And ah, it was glorious. As glorious as she remembered.

  His lips were soft, gentle, questing as they tested hers and then, with a groan, he pulled her closer, melding their bodies together. He deepened the kiss, sealing his mouth over hers and dancing his tongue over the seam.

  She opened to him. She couldn’t resist. He filled her senses with his presence, his heat. With tiny nibbles, sucks, and laps, he consumed her, enflamed her. All sanity fled. All logic and resolution and anger flitted away as Andrew tasted her, tempted her.

  His hands were not still. They roved over her body from her shoulders down her arms to her waist. They tangled in her hair and stroked her cheek and chin.

  Heat blossomed, danced through her veins. Her body softened, melted, prepared for him.

  She should not have responded the way she did. She should not have pressed against him, rubbed against the hard bulge on his belly. She should not have explored the muscled flesh of his back, cupped his nape, raked his silken scalp. She should not have moaned.

  Surely all these things would only encourage him.

  He lifted his head and stared at her, an odd mixture of befuddlement and awe in his eyes. His tongue peeped out and dabbed at his lips, snagging her attention. Surely she didn’t lean toward him in a mute plea for more.

  Was she truly so weak?

  Aye. She was.

  His head lowered, as though he intended to kiss her again.

  Her heart thudded. Her muscles locked. Her lips parted.

  “Ah. There you are.” A deep voice floated across the abyss of her sanity, shattering the spell he’d woven around her. Andrew’s head jerked up at the interruption; it banged against a rafter and he oofed. Susana took her chance and slipped from his arms.

  Oh, hell. Had she really let him kiss her? This man? This man? Knowing what he was, had she let him so close with hardly any resistance?

  “Hamish.” Andrew brushed down his tunic and turned to his second in command.

  Hamish, a very handsome man—who also needed to stoop—ripped his contemplative gaze from her and glanced around the loft. “What are you two doing up here?”

  Susana fought to control the blush rising on her cheeks. Surely that was a rhetorical question. Surely he didn’t want to know the truth.

  Andrew opened his arms to encompass the loft. “These are our new quarters.”

  Hamish blinked. His attention flickered from Andrew to Susana and back again. “You canna be serious.”

  Andrew nodded. “Miss Dounreay was just explaining to me that she wasna notified we were coming—”

  “I thought your brother sent a letter.”

  “So did I.” His beautiful lips twisted. “But apparently it dinna arrive before us. So for the time being, we’ll be sleeping here.”

  Hamish’s nose curled. “It smells.”

  “Indeed.” Andrew shot her a sultry glance. “Miss Dounreay assures me she will find other quarters for us as soon as possible.”

  “I see.” Hamish tapped his lips. No doubt he did.

  “I’m certain she will find something more suitable right away. Will you no’ … Susanna?” His tone was weighted with intent. His meaning was clear. Obviously he was convinced he’d charmed her with that kiss. Charmed and befuddled her to the extent she would bow to his bidding. Hie off and find him some palatial chamber in which he could lounge.

  Bluidy bastard.

  She affected a blinding smile. Fluttered her lashes even. “Of course, my laird,” she murmured, affecting a curtsy. “Right away, my laird.”

  Perhaps he caught the bite of her tone, perhaps he recognized her submission as the ruse it was, for his brow wrinkled.

  “You … ah … are going to find us better lodgings?” he asked.

  Other than a pointed grin, she didn’t bother to respond. She spun on her heel and left him standing there in the murky kennel loft like the dog that he was.

  * * *

  Andrew stared after Susana, his emotions in turmoil.

  Ah, God, how could he explain it? How could he explain how her kiss had affected him? That it had filled him with such glory? Such elation? That with one taste of her he’d known—known—that this was what he had been searching for, for six long years?

  At the touch of her lips, he’d been engulfed in a stupefying enchantment, a singing in his veins, a lightness of spirit. It had felt like coming home, holding Susana Dounreay in his arms. It had felt … right.

  It was a bluidy shame they’d been interrupted. He very much wanted to kiss her again. To see if he’d imagined it, that staggering … familiarity.

  Hamish strolled toward him, tucking his fingers into the pocket of his jerkin. His grin was wicked. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything … interesting,” he said.

  Andrew raked his hair. Hamish had no clue. He had no idea what he’d interrupted. That kiss had shifted his world on its axis. Even now, he spun.

  His friend pinned him with a sharp glance. “Because it seemed like you were very close to winning our wager.”

  The wager? Who gave a good goddamn about the wager?

  Hamish ignored his gaping stare. “I met a charming milkmaid as I was brushing down my mount. I thought she would be number ninety-eight, but clearly she will have to wait.” He winked. “I wouldna want you to slip in with a win. Looks like I shall have to turn my attentions to the lovely Susana and steal her kiss before you do.”

  Andrew opened his mouth to tell his friend to bugger off. That he’d already kissed Susana, already won the bet, but something stilled his tongue. He didn’t want to share this, share her, with anyone.

  Besides, Hamish was joking. Surely he was joking.

  Still, Andrew’s hands curled into fists.

  Which was providential.

  Or he might have throttled his best friend right then and there.

  * * *

  Susana stormed from the loft and made her way to the captain of the guard’s office in the battlements. At one time, the small stone chamber had been the lookout post atop the castle walls, but now it was Keir’s center of operations.

  At the moment, it served as her sanctuary. She needed to collect her thoughts. To regain her footing. To remind herself who she was … and who she had been.

  She’d sworn—sworn—never to be seduced again. Never to let a man have a hold on her. Never to let someone hurt her the way that boy once had. She’d come perilously close to succumbing to his charms. With hardly any provocation.

  It had been a kiss.

  A mere kiss.

  And she’d been ready to give him more. Everything. Anything.

  T
he thought appalled her.

  Keir glanced up from the papers he was studying when she entered and sent her a grin. “Back already?” He hadn’t approved of her riding out on her own to investigate the loss of yet another cow, but Susana had insisted. She was determined to carry her share of the load. Keir couldn’t do everything on his own, and their men were spread woefully thin. She’d certainly not expected to catch the thief in the middle of a robbery.

  She plopped down in the chair by the desk. “Aye.”

  “Find any trouble?”

  Any trouble? “Plenty.”

  His grin faded and his muscles bunched. He was a typical warrior male, ready to leap into the fray. Though it was obvious to her he had an interest in her, he’d always kept his distance and behaved like a gentleman. More than that, he’d treated her as an equal. Which was probably why, even though he was younger than some of her men, he was the captain of her guard. Though they may be more experienced, the older men tended to pat her on the head and try to send her on her way. Keir did not.

  He sat back in his chair and pursed his lips. “What was it?” he asked.

  “I caught the thief.”

  “Excellent.”

  She frowned. “Not so. He escaped … thanks to Dunnet’s men.”

  Keir stilled. “Dunnet’s men?” He fingered his quill. “I sent them all to patrol the southern crofts.”

  “Not those men.” Susana leaned forward. “Did you know my father wrote to Dunnet, asking him to send more men?”

  His jaw tightened. “I dinna.”

  “Apparently, since our fortifications havena been strong enough to deter Stafford, or the other miscreants roaming the hills, my father decided we needed a more powerful presence. So Dunnet sent more men. They arrived today.”

  Keir’s throat worked. “How many?”

  “Twenty-five.” This she spat. Though in truth, there was only one of those men that irked her. Susana lurched to her feet and paced the room. “Can you believe that? And the leader of these men has announced he is taking over the defenses … altogether.”

  “What? But…” His lashes flickered. “That’s your job.”