His lips nipped her fragrant neck and trailed across her graceful collarbone, tasting every delectable inch of her skin. Gathering her breasts in his hands, he savored their cool plumpness and the way her nipples pebbled in his palms. He lowered his mouth and laved the honeyed tips while his fingertips strummed the moist bud of her sex.
"Make love to me," she said between breathless pants. She untangled her hands from the confines of her nightgown and lowered her arms. Her soft hands caressed the length of his spine and clasped his buttocks, coaxing him with hot urgency. “I want all of you. Take me,” she said, her husky voice bewitching.
On the brink of madness, Ian’s biceps bulged as he braced his weight above her. He hungered to dominate and possess her, to conquer her and make her beg for him. To tame her and be tamed by her. Beads of sweat dampened his forehead, tortured by the reckless need to have her and the fear of letting her snare his heart again. He cursed the hold she had on him. It was madness that defied logic.
Logic be damned! he thought with a lusty groan. He positioned himself between her waiting thighs and eased inside her tight, liquid sheath. Natasha arched her body upwards and opened to him, welcoming his slow and purposeful thrusts. She gazed into his eyes with a look of profound trust and love, one he’d never forget.
“I’m where I want to be, Ian,” she said, moaning raggedly. “In your arms and close to your heart.”
Her words were Ian’s undoing as he lost all control, plunging inside her over and over again until she came with wild, explosive cries. Tears rolled down the sides of her face when Ian stiffened and came almost simultaneously with a hoarse shout. He gathered her in his arms and held her until the aftershocks of their fevered lovemaking quieted.
The next morning Natasha rolled over in bed with a dreamy smile. She snuggled her face in the pillow, her eyes closed as she relived the previous night when Ian had reverted to the man she adored—primal, dominant and exquisitely tender. She felt deliciously achy all over. After their first urgent coupling, he’d made love to her again taking his time as he wrung the last drop of pleasure from her. She sighed at the memory of his face ravaged with lust while he brought her to ecstasy. Her startling climax had unleashed tears as the blissful, mounting spiral of sensations unleashed an explosive release. Afterwards, Ian had cradled her close to his body. Hugging him tightly, she’d listened to his steady heartbeat and silently vowed to never let him go.
Natasha stretched languidly and opened her eyes. She blinked and looked around, confounded when she realized she wasn’t in Ian’s bed, but hers. She had fallen asleep in Ian’s warm embrace; she knew that much for sure. When had he carried her back to the hidden chamber—and why?
Never mind. You know why. Her heart ached with bitter disappointment. Ian’s separation from her spoke volumes—he hadn’t wanted her in his bed after they’d made love. She wondered if he even considered it making love or simply sexual release. Had he wanted to purge his desire for her once and for all? Natasha swallowed against the lump in her throat, her pride smarting with humiliation and hurt.
How would she face him this morning? With a stab of despair, she glanced at her watch. 6:30 a.m. Last night, Ian had told her to be downstairs by seven in the morning sharp so they could leave for Edinburgh. Why hadn’t he awakened her, knowing she was still on New York time? He’d gotten rid of her quickly last night after their impulsive lovemaking. Was he planning to leave her behind too?
Natasha swung her legs over the side of the bed and got ready as fast as she could. There was no way she was going to be left behind. Not if she could help it!
She took a five minute shower, gasping and squealing as the icy water pelted her. By the time she shut off the faucet, the warm water had kicked in. She finger-combed her curls, put on dark brown mascara, apricot blush and lip gloss and got dressed in a soft, long-sleeved royal blue T shirt, skinny indigo jeans and ankle boots. She grabbed her leather jacket and looped a rust and royal blue knitted scarf around her neck. With her shoulder bag slung across her body, she ran downstairs to join Ian.
Chapter Eight
"Good morning,” Natasha said to Ian's back as she entered the kitchen.
Seated at the table, he turned to look at her. Dressed in jeans and a black button down shirt with sleeves rolled up his strong forearms, he looked alpha and urbane at once. His thick, dark hair was slightly damp from the shower and his clean-shaven jaw glistened in the morning light.
"Morning, Tasha," Ian said, the clipped Scottish burr rolling off his tongue. "Dugie is in the garden collecting herbs for dinner. She left a plate of food warming in the oven for you. And there’s coffee already brewed if you want a cuppa," he said, indicating the coffeemaker on the navy and white tile counter.
"Thanks." She hung her shoulder bag on the back of a chair and willed strength into her legs as she walked to the stove and retrieved the plate from the oven. She could feel Ian's gaze boring into her back as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She turned to him, holding the decanter. “Can I freshen your coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
Natasha sat down and placed the plate of scrambled eggs, broiled tomato, and sausage before her. She unfolded her cloth napkin and carefully spread it on her lap. Her stomach was tied up in knots at the silent tension in the room.
Ian looked up from buttering his toast. "Better eat something. We have a long drive ahead of us. Edinburgh's not too far, but most of the drive will be on a two lane highway."
Natasha pushed her fork against the scrambled eggs, then the sausage and back again. "It looks delicious, but I'm not very hungry." She paused, warmth flooding her face and neck as she looked into his eyes. “How did you sleep last night?”
“Like a rock. You?” he asked with a raised brow.
“No more nightmares. I slept deeply,” she said, disgruntled that he was acting like nothing had happened between them.
His silver-green gaze held hers with bemusement. Natasha glanced at his lips, remembering all the places they’d been last night. The devil, he might be acting nonchalant now, but last night he’d been unhinged. Wild and untamed—almost savage with desire. The erotic memory made her sweet spot pulse with pleasure as she squirmed on the wooden seat. She had to look away from his keen eyes to collect her wits and to eat a few bites, even though she had no appetite.
When the silence between them became unbearable, Natasha said, "Did you move me to the hidden chamber? Or did I sleep walk there?”
Ian pushed back from the table and observed her with wry detachment. "I carried you there. You were sleeping like a drugged woman.”
She smiled. “I was.” Drugged by you.
He remained silent as he ate his breakfast.
Natasha moved her plate away and huffed air into her lungs. “Why did you take me out of your bed? I don’t understand," she said meeting his gaze squarely. Last night’s intimate lovemaking had pushed them beyond the threshold of formality. She didn’t know how much time they had left together in Glenhaven, and she wasn’t going to waste it on small talk.
Ian gazed at her with earnest eyes. "I’m sorry for that, Tasha. But what did you expect from me? Last night was out of control.”
“Yes, and I enjoyed it. We both did.” That was an understatement, she thought hiding a smile as she took a sip of coffee. Her body still hummed with pleasure. “So why the distance now?”
Two grooves formed between his dark brows as he regarded her. “We need emotional distance to survive the next few days together.”
“I don’t,” she said, issuing a challenging look.
Ian sighed heavily. “I do. From the moment you fainted in my office, you became my responsibility. Now, I have to keep you safe."
Natasha stared at him, her heart aching. “Have to? I’m not forcing you.”
His eyes looked burdened. “I know. It’s my choice.”
“Can’t we try again now that we’ve reconnected?” she dared to ask.
He leaned forward, his forearms bra
ced on the wooden table as he stared at her intently. "That would only work with mutual trust."
Indignation swelled inside her. "And you can't bring yourself to trust me? Are you going to punish me forever for a decision I made seven years ago?"
“This isn't the time or place to discuss the past,” he said, tight-lipped.
"Breaking our engagement was the most painful decision I ever made. But maybe it was the right decision after all," she said, hurt and anger fueling her.
Ian’s features hardened to granite as he pushed away from the table and got up. "Then there's nothing more for us to discuss."
"There’s plenty to discuss. You need to hear me out."
Ian's face remained stubborn and closed to communication. "Why? Your goals are the same as they were seven years ago, and they don't include me."
He set the mug down and turned to leave. Natasha shot up from the table and grabbed his arm. The heat of his skin scalded her icy hand. Suddenly, mere breathing became a chore. "Listen to me. Give me a chance to explain."
Ian’s unwavering eyes met hers, and then glanced at his watch. "Go ahead. We have five minutes to spare."
Natasha ignored his arrogance and pressed on. "When you tended my wound so kindly in your office, I hoped that the past seven years had mellowed you." She exhaled a frustrated breath. "But I can see you're still bitter."
His jaw tightened. "I'm not bitter. I am focused on two goals here, and I don’t want or need any distractions.”
"I want peace between us once and for all,” she said firmly. “The reason I broke off our engagement was because I wanted to perform on Broadway and you didn’t understand how important that was to me—even though I had worked toward that goal all my life."
Standing ramrod stiff, Ian’s hands gripped the back of the chair. "I told you I was willing to compromise so you could get the stars out of your eyes. I had planned to stay in New York and complete my Ph. D. You could have performed all you liked during that time."
"Ian, there are no guarantees in the theatre. One day you’re at the top, and the other your understudy is screwing the director and you’re out of a job,” she said, hoping that wouldn’t be the case with Lisette, but those things happened in the business all the time.
“What does that have to do with me?” he said roughly.
“My career wasn’t the only thing holding me back. I loved you with all my heart, but I was scared of moving to Scotland permanently."
"That's right. I would have kept you as a prisoner in my castle. The beast to your beauty," he said sarcastically. "I promised you paradise, not a life of misery."
"Yes, but you never understood my dreams. The theatre is in my blood as much as Glenhaven is in yours."
"I’m not standing in your way anymore." His silver-green eyes skewered her with scorn. "Enjoy your career and your controlling mum's approval."
Natasha groaned. "I don’t deny Anitra played a huge part in my decision. When I met you, I was naïve and inexperienced. It might sound ridiculous, but I’d never even had a boyfriend. My whole life was performing. Anitra convinced me that you wouldn’t let me perform after we were married. She said you had a possessive, domineering streak like your father did."
"When did she say that to you?" Ian blazed.
A miserable knot formed in Natasha’s belly. “I told her you weren't like him, but she insisted you were. She said she had known your father since college when she was dating Daddy."
Ian gripped the chair with white-knuckled fists. "Damn her. Only a cruel, selfish bitch would destroy her daughter's engagement!"
"Anitra may not be perfect, but she’s still my mother,” Natasha pointed out, flinching at the loathing in his eyes.
"Perfect? She’s anything but," he grated.
Anger surged through Natasha like an electrical shock. “That’s right, and neither are you. Stop scowling down your arrogant nose at me. I’m tired of hearing you blame me for the past. Grow up!”
“You grow up!” Ian reached out and pulled her toward him. Coiling his hand in her hair, he kissed her hard. She struggled against him, but as anger turned to hot passion, she gave in to the wild sensation. Her tender breasts swelled against his chest and pebbled instantly. One big hand cupped her bottom, while the other wound in her hair, holding her still. Pressed against his aroused body, Natasha’s insides melted like warm molasses. She clung to him, returning his fierce kisses with her own.
Ian loosened his grip on her hair and his hands caressed the length of her spine, exploring, molding, palming her buttocks. Her pelvis tilted upward as she moaned into his mouth, her insides tingling and her heartbeat running amok.
Natasha pushed her fingers through the thick strands of his hair, stroking and clutching, as his lips and tongue plowed her swollen mouth with deep, slow kisses.
"Aye, they're a lovely couple of lovebirds again, aren't they Ranald?" Maggie exclaimed as she walked into the kitchen, chuckling when they jumped apart.
“That they are,” Ranald said merrily.
Startled, Natasha drew in a sharp breath and stared at them ruefully. Her heart pounded like a tap dancer's feet inside her chest as she waited for Ian to do something.
Natasha’s face flamed at the twinkle in Maggie and Ranald's discerning eyes. Evita’s yelps drew attention away from Natasha’s predicament as the puppy leaped from Ranald’s arms into hers.
"It’s—it’s not what you think," Natasha said lamely when she caught her breath.
Maggie raised her brows at Ranald. They grinned and exchanged a private look. Natasha looked at Ian for support, but he remained silent and his ironic half-smile did nothing to ease her embarrassment.
"Ian can't seem to control the impulse to kiss me," she said after a pause, returning his smug smile. That wiped away any semblance of amusement from his face.
Coughing as if to clear his throat, Ian turned to Maggie and Ranald, who were still grinning broadly. "We'll be leaving now. If things take longer than I expect, we'll return tomorrow," he said.
"You didn't say anything about spending the night in Edinburgh," Natasha said. "I haven't packed an overnight bag." The word overnight elicited a flutter of excitement as she realized they’d be staying in a hotel together.
"We don't have time for you to go upstairs and pack. Did you take your antibiotic already?” he said briskly.
“I took the last pill early this morning.”
Ian gave a short nod. “Good. If we stay over, I’ll pick up what we need in Edinburgh."
“What about Evita?” Natasha said, hugging her close. She had missed her puppy last night, but in retrospect it was a good thing she hadn’t been in the room with them.
“We’ll watch her,” Ranald and Maggie said in unison. They laughed heartily and shook their heads at their identical responses.
“Be on your way, then,” Maggie said. “The sky is clear and the air is lovely out.”
“Thank you for watching Evita,” Natasha said, smiling at Maggie. She kissed Evita’s cute little face. “Be a good girl. Mommy will be back soon, and I’ll bring you a present.”
Ian rolled his eyes and placed a hand on the small of Natasha’s back, nudging her toward the door. “Time to go,” he said.
Natasha wished she knew what he was thinking, but his face was an inscrutable mask. She warmly hugged Maggie and Ranald goodbye and promised to phone them if they decided to stay overnight in Edinburgh.
On the way to Edinburgh, Ian drove past the moors and craggy mountains with the windows down. He breathed in deeply of the fresh Highland air and enjoyed the simple pleasure of it. After the storm last night, the air had cleared to a crisp coolness and the blue sky was littered with white clouds frayed at the edges.
They drove in silence while Ian considered his recent flare-up in the kitchen. How like Natasha to wring out the last drop of his self-control. They hadn't been together more than ten minutes this morning and they were fighting and lusting for each other simultaneously. He shook his head wh
en he remembered what had goaded him into kissing her. She had yelled, "Grow up!" No one he knew would have had the nerve say that to him—no one but Tasha.
She was right, though. He was a respected, successful physician, yet for seven years he had held on to the pain and resentment their breakup had caused him. He had dated many women afterward, but no one had ever filled the bleak emptiness left by Tasha. It was time to put the past behind where it belonged and forge ahead. It amazed him that her insult to "Grow up!" suddenly put everything into perspective.
Tasha was in danger and he would protect her regardless of their past. But there remained a major hurdle. She drove him wild and he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. She was still a thistle in his heart, more now as a confident woman.
After what seemed like an interminable hour of stony silence, Natasha couldn't take it any longer. She had tried to take a nap, but she was too wired up. She had counted hearty hikers walking with their dogs and sheep grazing on the blue-green mountain sides. If they didn't talk soon, she'd burst from the restless energy inside her.
The friction between them in the kitchen had lit her up like a match. Now that it had been ignited, the dousing was near impossible. She glanced at Ian’s granite jaw and his straight, bladelike nose. His gaze was focused directly ahead, absorbed in his thoughts while he listened to the strains of Irish rock violin.
"Ian," Natasha said.
Ian turned to her, silver-green eyes brooding. Refusing to be dissuaded by his mood, she flashed a friendly smile. “Tell me about this patient you'll be seeing at the orphanage,” she said.
Heart Melter Page 8
