A Naughty Little Christmas (Cowboys, Cops, and Kilts: 8 Seasonally Seductive Romances from Bestselling Authors)

by Randi Alexander

  Niall gathered her into his embrace and kissed her back. He dragged one hand down the side of her hip to her upper thigh. Her body was small but curved enticingly beneath her dress. He coaxed her plump, supple lips open with his mouth, and when they parted, he teased his tongue inside for a taste.

  Her body jerked in reaction. She moaned and made a wee noise that sounded like, “Oh!”

  Niall withdrew his tongue in surprise. Surely she had been kissed before? Brushing his lips against hers, he brought her closer, stepping forward until her back pressed against the tapestry near the hearth.

  He ran his lips down the soft, silky flesh of her jaw and stroked his hand down her slender neck, over her collarbones and over the tight bead of her nipple through the fabric of her gown. She buried her face in his neck, gasping.

  His cock was so hard it hurt. Their clothing was in the way. Blood pounded in his ears.

  He needed her. He would have her. He would make her his.

  Niall hiked up her skirts, sliding the rough pad of his thumb over the supple flesh of her thigh. She moaned against his neck.

  He moved his fingers higher on her thigh, then stroked the damp skin between her legs. She squirmed, but he ground his cock into her hip and pinned her against the wall.

  He slid a finger deep into her slick, hot flesh. She went rigid.

  Niall froze. She shook in his arms, trembled all over. She was terrified.

  What the hell was he doing? Raping Lady Aileen? She’d merely kissed him—a chaste, closed-mouth kiss like the gentle lady she was—and he’d pushed her against the wall and nearly thrust his cock inside her like a rutting animal.

  Good God, he’d lost his mind. With a hiss of breath, he jerked his hand away and jumped back, leaving her slouched against the wall with a stunned expression on her face.

  She would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself. He covered his face with his hands, but his fingers were slick and smelled of her sex. He fisted his hands and dropped them rigidly to his sides.

  “Lady Aileen,” he rasped. She looked up at him with wide, shining eyes. Guilt flooded through him. “Please forgive me.”

  He strode to the door and threw it open. He couldn’t get out of there quickly enough.

  He stepped over the threshold. But then her voice came from behind him, trembling but low and sultry and edged with heat. “Wait.”

  Chapter Four

  Aileen pressed her back against the wall and watched Niall turn to her, his fingers gripping the edge of the door so hard his knuckles had turned white.

  Silence. Except for the harshness of his breath and her own quick breaths. She watched the emotions rage across his face but couldn’t decipher them. Was he disgusted with her or with himself? She had behaved like a whore, throwing herself into his arms like that. But then, the things that he had done to her with his tongue and fingers…

  Aileen shuddered.

  But he clearly wanted to leave her. Why was she forcing him to stay?

  There was no point in being coy with him. She must be honest. To be anything else would insult him, and she had already insulted him enough.

  “Forgive me.”

  “Nay, lady. There is naught to forgive.” He shut the door for privacy and leaned against it. Now they spoke from opposite sides of the room, as if the space would somehow buffer the desire still swirling between them.

  “Aye, there is. I oughtn’t have behaved…in that manner. ’Twas…disrespectful.”

  His face darkened. “Nay…”

  Aileen bowed her head and opened her palms flat against the tapestry, running her fingertips over the coarse material.

  Honesty. He would probably turn his back on her forever, but she had to explain.

  “I wanted you to touch me,” she whispered. “I craved it. And then…when you did…I have never felt anything so…” A hot tear trailed down her face, and she brought her hand to her cheek, surprised. It had been a long time since she had last shed tears. “’Tis wrong and wanton and sinful, and…and I feel so…” She ground her teeth, disgusted with herself, with her own weakness and vulnerability. Unable to look at him, she turned her gaze to the window instead. “Forgive me.”

  In an instant, he was standing before her. “Aileen…”

  She melted against him, into the furnace of his arms.

  He lifted her and carried her to the chair set before the fire, where he settled with her on his lap, holding her close, kissing the tears from her cheeks.

  Niall’s lips, salty with her tears, touched hers gently. The expression on his face spoke more eloquently than words. There were certain awful truths they both understood, but they still needed to be said.

  “There can be nothing between us,” Aileen murmured. She stroked her palms across the hard planes of his chest, learning the contour of each masculine muscle. “My brother would take Dornoch away from me forever.”

  “Aye.” His fingers threaded through her braid, loosening it then sifting through her hair. “You are in mourning. Destined for another. And I have made a sacred oath of loyalty to the laird, one I canna forsake.”

  She pressed her lips against the tender skin at the hollow of his throat, breathing deeply. “He’d kill you for touching me.”

  “And he’d be justified in doing so.”

  She pressed her cheek against the hard muscle at the front of his shoulder. “These feelings I am having… They’re so…powerful. So new…”

  That shook him—she felt it in the sudden tension of the muscles cradling her.

  In a low voice, he said, “Aye. I feel the same way.”

  She snuggled closer against his body. “When you’re near, I feel… I want…to touch you.”

  Niall spoke slowly. “I’ve always felt a powerful attraction to you, Aileen.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Even…before?”

  “Aye.”

  She was still for a moment, taking that in.

  He tilted her chin up so she met his clear blue gaze with her own. “I have never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

  She stared at him through blurring eyes. They wanted each other with equal passion, equal need.

  It couldn’t be.

  They were doomed.

  ***

  Much later, Aileen went downstairs to serve in her role as the lady of the castle. Niall walked behind her, playing his role as a Mackenzie protector.

  Niall was as convinced as Aileen that nothing could come of this. It somehow soothed her that their forced separation challenged him as much as it did her, but they were equally strong. They could overcome this lethal attraction.

  Through dinner, she laughed and joked with his men. After the meal, she, Niall, and Donegal gathered with some of her men-at-arms. Late into the night, they reminisced about old times at Dornoch. Niall and Aileen talked, laughed, and drank wine. There were no lingering glances, fluttering touches, accidental brushes against each other. They played their assigned roles to perfection.

  But once she was alone in her bedchamber, the brick fortress of Aileen’s resolve began to crumble.

  She pressed her fingers against her eyes. Another night in her cold bed. She didn’t know how she’d borne it for so long. It had seemed easy before Walter’s death. In fact, she considered it a blessing that he’d hardly come to her bed at all in the last few years.

  Now her bed was a lonely, sterile place. She was almost glad to be leaving it tomorrow. At least the novelty of a new place to sleep might distract her from this devastating solitude.

  Niall’s chamber was close—at the end of the wing. Just a short walk down the passageway.

  The servants were all abed. Jannet was with her sisters again. Nobody would see her if she went to him.

  She knew she shouldn’t—the risk was too great.

  But she wanted to. Desperately.

  Groaning softly, Aileen curled her body into a ball and grasped her knees with her frigid hands.

  If she wanted to experience the close
ness they’d shared so briefly this afternoon, tonight was her only chance. Certainly they wouldn’t be able to associate with each other once they arrived at Ellandonan Castle. That would be suicidal.

  But if she went to him tonight, nobody would ever need to know.

  He was warm. She remembered the heat of his chest as he’d held her. His body was so sculpted, so strong. The way he’d cradled her in his arms, so protective. She never felt as safe as she did when she was with him.

  Tonight was her last chance to experience the one thing she would likely never again have the chance to feel. Sexual pleasure. Fulfillment from a man’s touch. A man taking his pleasure inside her because she wanted him to, not because she must endure it as her wifely duty.

  Niall could give all of that to her. Everywhere he touched her, fire ignited beneath her skin. And when he had touched her between her legs, she had nearly exploded.

  Aileen tossed the covers aside and slid out of bed. She hesitated over the candle beside her bed, but she didn’t light it. Dornoch was her home. She could find her way in the dark.

  Thankful the servants kept the hinges well oiled, she closed the door behind her. Slowly, using the sprigs of mistletoe hung at intervals down the corridor as a guide, she moved toward Niall’s chamber. Every breath she made echoed against the stone walls.

  Finally, she reached Niall’s door. Aileen hesitated, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

  She wanted this. Like nothing in her life, she wanted this one night with him. Just one night.

  Slowly, she pushed the door open. It swung silently on its hinges.

  The fire had burnt down to glowing embers. He lay on the bed, a shadowy figure buried under the plaids. After closing the door and bolting it behind her, Aileen padded across the room. The floorboards chilled the soles of her feet, yet when she reached the side of the bed, she stood for a long moment, staring at him.

  In sleep, he was like an angel, pale and perfect in the dimness, the half-moon curve of his thick, dark eyelashes resting against his cheeks.

  As quietly as she could, she climbed up on the bed and crawled under the covers. When he didn’t wake, she pressed her body against his side.

  He wore a tunic, but just as she’d imagined, he was warm beneath it.

  As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he shifted in his sleep and slipped his arm around her waist.

  Mayhap he wouldn’t wake. Mayhap she could just rest here for a few hours, watch him sleep, and revel in his warmth and his touch. That would be enough—much more than she might have hoped for a few days ago. Closing her eyes, she snuggled closer to him.

  Suddenly, his body tensed, and he jerked away from her.

  Aileen’s eyes snapped open. He blinked at her, a curious, confused expression clouding his features.

  “Aileen?”

  Regret constricted her chest. She had done it again—put him at risk, wanted him to betray his oath of fealty to his laird…

  “I’m sorry,” she groaned. This was wrong, all wrong. She began to crawl out of the bed. “I dinna know what came over me. I couldna stop…”

  “Shh.” Niall wrapped his arm around her waist. “Stay.”

  He tugged her close. Aileen was cold, trembling, and all he wanted to do was warm her. Every moment with her was a gift. Despite all the ways they’d strayed in their touches and words, he couldn’t regret what they had done.

  Nor what they might do.

  “No more apologizing.” He pulled her tighter against his chest. “I was hoping you’d come.” He nearly laughed at the understatement.

  He’d dreamt about her. He was dreaming of holding her when he’d awakened, his cock rock hard, to find her in his arms.

  She stroked his arm, seemingly entranced by the slope of his biceps.

  Niall tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “Stay here with me.”

  Mourning what could never be was a waste. This might be folly, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t fight it now. Not with her nearly naked, pressing her small body against him.

  He reached behind her neck and drew her closer.

  If it was his only chance, he would make the most of this night.

  “I want to make love to you,” he said against her lips, his voice growing rough. Her soft breaths whispered over his skin in a caress that made his nerves come alive. “I want to learn everything about you. About your sweet, bonny body.”

  Reaching down, he snagged the bottom of her shift, slowly pulling it up over her calf, then her thigh, letting his fingertips glide over her smooth skin. She lay very still, gazing at him with trusting eyes that glowed a gentle violet.

  “’Tis our only chance,” she whispered.

  Niall ground his teeth. “Aye.”

  She rose to pull her shift over her head. He did the same with his tunic. After tossing their clothes aside, they sat on the bed, naked, facing each other in the dim light.

  He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she seemed to struggle to regulate her breath. Her tongue swiped across her lower lip, and then she murmured, “I’m afraid.”

  “Why?”

  Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. “I dinna know. I shouldna be. I trust you. But…” She looked down at her hands. “Today, when you kissed me and…and touched me…”

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked softly.

  Unwavering, her gaze met his. “Nay.”

  “Did I do something you didna want me to do?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did it feel wrong?”

  “Nay…it felt right.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I think you’ve cast a spell over me.”

  He shook his head somberly. “I am no sorcerer.”

  But could she be responsible for this? Had she cast a spell over him? It was a longstanding rumor that her grannie dabbled in witchcraft. Had she continued the family tradition?

  He nearly laughed. What nonsense. He was as superstitious as the next Highlander, but he couldn’t believe she was responsible for what was happening. Not Aileen. He knew her—had known her since he was a lad, and she was nothing if not pious and duty-bound.

  If anything, she was more distraught over their forbidden attraction than he was.

  Niall brushed his fingertips over her soft lips.

  “But we canna be together.” A hard edge, the same edge he’d sensed in her expression earlier today when he’d watched her directing the servants, had overtaken her voice. “Why would fate provoke us? ’Tisn’t fair.”

  She was right. The unfairness of it elicited a raging frustration within him. But he wouldn’t think of that now.

  He pressed her down so that she lay on the bed. She complied, never taking her eyes from his face. He leaned over her, devouring her naked body with his gaze. God, she was beautiful. Her skin glowed pearly in the meager light provided by the fire embers and the starlight sifting through the narrow windowpanes. She was a goddess, perfect and flawless. She was a lady. So far above him—a lowly man with no aristocratic blood, who had raised himself to his current position by endless sacrifices of blood and sweat—it was laughable.

  Her lips parted as she stared up at him.

  “So bonny.” Gently, he smoothed her sleek hair back from her face. He ran the tip of his finger over her mouth.

  To know her completely, to understand her body, how it felt, tasted, moved beneath him—those were the things that mattered most. He wanted to brand them into his memory.

  He traced the dark slashes of her eyebrows with his fingertips. Bending down, he feathered kisses across her forehead.

  “Niall.” A breath, a plea against his ear.

  “Lie still, Aileen.”

  She obeyed his gentle command as he swiped his fingers down her hairline. When he licked the shell of her ear, she squirmed, but he held her firm.

  Her neck was long and elegant. Arching her head back, she bared it for him.

  For a long moment, he stared at the display of skin so pale that even in the dark
ness, he could see the blue of her veins. In a clear message of trust, she offered herself.

  He ran his hands over the delicate skin, then followed with his lips, alternating between sucks and soft bites down the smooth column and across her shoulders.

  “Aye.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Make me remember you, Niall. Never let me forget.”

  Chapter Five

  Her thought was uncannily similar to his own. Niall wanted to brand this moment—this night—into his memory. Later, when he was alone in battle, surrounded by violence and death, he would recall her smooth skin, her sweet scent, her tender softness.

  He paused, breathing heavily against her neck. The compulsion to gather her into his arms and carry her away from this place nearly overwhelmed him. They’d ride somewhere safe, far from the Highlands, from Scotland, even from England. From the blood and the vows that must keep them apart.

  He’d wanted to do that long ago, when he was a lad, but it had seemed impossible then. Why did it seem even more impossible now? Perhaps they’d grown and become adults with adult responsibilities. Responsibilities that weren’t so easy to abandon.

  He traced her collarbones with his fingers, then his lips, tasting tall Highland grasses. Moving lower, he licked the soft, curved mound of her breast.

  She gave a ragged sigh.

  Straightening, he gazed at her. Shadows darkened her skin as she raised her arms to stretch them overhead.

  A look of wonder was etched on her face. “The way you touch me with your hands and mouth… ’Tis so… decadent.” Her eyes glittered as they met his. She reached up and pressed her palm against his chest.

  He slid his hands from her collarbones to her breasts, cupping them in his hands and weighing gently. Small and pert, they molded to his palms. Smoothing his fingertips over her nipples, he watched with profound appreciation as they grew into hard pink nubs. He bent to capture one of them between his lips.

  She slipped her thigh between his legs, rubbing against his cock until it grew full to bursting and throbbed with impatience. Ignoring his body’s demand to claim her fast and hard, Niall moved to the other breast and worked it with his mouth, kneading the flesh of both globes with his hands.