Scot on the Run

by Janice Maynard

  A little voice in the back of her brain reminded her that if something sounded too good to be true it probably was. She ignored the warning. Nothing was going to stop her now.

  Not even her own sense of self-preservation.

  He sat down at her hip and lazily unbuttoned her top. She and Ian were both streaked with dirt and covered in scratches. She probably had leaves and twigs in her hair, because he certainly did.

  “Should we clean up first?” she asked mildly, as if she weren’t on fire from the inside out.

  His pained wince told her he didn’t give a damn if they both were less than daisy fresh. “Is that what you want?”

  “Maybe later,” she muttered.

  “Thank God.” He bent his head and kissed her breasts, not bothering to remove her skimpy bra. The fact that he suckled her through the damp fabric struck her as unbearably erotic.

  She struggled with the zipper on her jeans. At least she was wearing nice undies. The random thought made her want to laugh… right up until the moment Ian lifted her like a rag doll and unfastened her bra. He held her close, the bra trapped between them. “Is something wrong?” she asked timidly when he didn’t move.

  “Not exactly.” He sounded winded.

  “Can I help?” They had been rushing toward a delicious precipice, but now the momentum slowed.

  “Do you know who the Incredible Hulk is?” he asked.

  The random question confused her. “More or less, though I’m not sure what he has to do with getting me out of my clothes.”

  He kissed her temple. “Bruce Banner was the scientist in the comic series. Whenever he was subjected to extreme emotional stress, he morphed into a huge green monster.”

  “I like that you’re naked, Ian, but your timing sucks. Save the bedtime stories for later.”

  He chuckled hoarsely. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel. Since I rarely go down that road, I thought an illustration might come in handy.”

  She pulled back far enough to see his face. “I’m stressing you out?” She frowned. Not what a woman wanted to hear.

  “There’s good stress and bad stress. I’m afraid of hurting you or scaring you. It seems like you’re not all that experienced.”

  “So?” He wasn’t wrong.

  “So, I don’t want to go all Incredible Hulk on you. When a man wants a woman really badly, he has a hard time being gentle.”

  A frisson of excitement made her shiver. “You’re that wound up? Honestly?”

  “Oh, yeah. I could lock you in this room and make love to you all night.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  Chapter Eleven

  The impudent question flipped some kind of switch in Ian’s brain. He forgot about the rescue and the reporters and his screwed up life. All he could think about was Bella. How soft she was. How she smelled like roses in springtime. The amazing way her mind worked. The wonder of nature that was her feminine, curvy body.

  Her skin was cool beneath his fingertips, maybe because he was hotter than hot. Talk was getting him nowhere. If anything, he had worried her. Carefully, he tugged at the bra and tossed it on the floor.

  His chest heaved. “Lift your hips, lass. Let’s get rid of these pants.”

  The quiet happiness in her eyes said she knew a delicious secret. He’d expected her to be on the shy side in bed. If anything, he was the one who found himself in uncharted waters.

  Bella was unlike any woman he had ever known. She challenged him intellectually, while at the same time driving him half mad with wanting her. When she was completely nude, he removed his boxers. Joining her in the bed, he flipped back the covers so she couldn’t hide from him.

  He put his hand, palm flat on her belly. “You’re awfully quiet for a woman who has an opinion about everything.”

  “Fishing for compliments?” She taunted him with a smirk.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “Don’t talk. I have plans for your mouth anyway.” Behind her bold façade, he could swear he saw uncertainty. The notion wounded him. What would it take to make her want this moment as much as he did? “Turn over on your stomach,” he said.

  She blinked once. “Okay.”

  Now he was treated to a canvas of curves and shadows, a masterpiece of pale skin and tousled dark hair. He straddled her legs and put his hands between her shoulder blades. “Let me know if this is too much.”

  Bella made some little muffled noise that could have been assent. It certainly didn’t seem as if she wanted him to stop. He aligned his thumbs along either side of her spine and pressed deeply.

  Her moan made him smile. At one time, early in his early academic career, he had considered medicine as a life path. Other disciplines eventually lured him away, but he still remembered most of his anatomy studies. Such a thing came in handy when a man wanted to pleasure a woman.

  Touching her was both bliss and torment. The silky feel of her skin beneath his fingertips was too visceral, too real. He didn’t want to have this experience burned into his brain. That was something women did… sentimentalizing sex. He was a man of intellect. His brain told him this was going to be physical and satisfying. End of story.

  Bella sighed and stretched her arms above her head. “If I were any looser, I’d slide off the bed and onto the floor. High marks as a masseuse, Mr. Larrimore. If you ever need a reference, I’m happy to oblige.”

  “I haven’t gotten to the good parts yet. Roll on your side and face me, lass. I’m even better from that angle.” He moved away from her and reclined, his head propped on his hand.

  She made a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh, but obeyed. Now, it was worse. Not only could he touch her endlessly, but he could look into her eyes. Had she learned some kind of mesmerist’s trick? Why else did his throat dry and his hands shake when their gazes locked? What was she thinking? What did she expect from him?

  The bed was comfortable, though the room was hardly decked out for seduction. The overhead fixture cast a harsh glare. Perhaps with candlelight and rose petals he could have made a better impression.

  Lightly, he mapped the curves of her plump breasts. Bella caught her breath, her cheeks flushing. “You needn’t keep up the foreplay, Ian. I’m ready. Completely.”

  “You don’t like what I’m doing?” The lazy pace cost him, ratcheting up his hunger and making him clumsy. It reassured him in some odd way that Bella was no more comfortable than he was with the intimate situation. They were both lamentably awkward when it came to verbal cues. Hopefully, they would excel in the next, more hands-on phase.

  She caught his wrist and squeezed it tightly. “Seriously, Ian. I want you. Now.”

  This time there was no joking tone in her voice, no humorous digs at his expense. Her clarity satisfied him somehow. It was gratifying not to have to guess what a woman was thinking. Bella was real and honest and beautifully direct in her explicit demand.

  His sex pulsed. His heart raced. Hands trembling, he reached into the bedside table for protection. Bella averted her eyes as he took care of the matter. That little show of bashful embarrassment brought tenderness back into the mix. For all her intelligence and book smarts, she betrayed her sheltered upbringing at times.

  “If I do something you don’t like, you have to tell me.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Understood?”

  She nodded, big-eyed. “Yes, Ian.” When she licked her lips, he nearly lost it. Staring at him like a kid about to choose an ice cream flavor, she moved her thighs apart and held out her arms. “No more talking.”

  It was a damned fine plan. He’d lost the ability to speak, anyway. He touched her carefully and found her damp and ready. When he fit the head of his erection to her center and pushed slowly, time slowed to a crawl.

  Holy hell. Her body welcomed him, though Bella’s slight wince told him she had not practiced this particular sport in recent months. He grew dizzy, weak. But at the same time, a great wave of exultation built in his chest. This woman. Finley’s sister. Bossy. Brave. Impossi
ble to predict. She made him want like he had never wanted before.

  Things got hazy after that. He remembered thrusting wildly when she linked her ankles behind his back. There might have been a moment when he bit the side of her neck and panted, trying desperately to hold back the need to come that pummeled him relentlessly.

  Breathless, exultant, he found his release and shouted her name.

  After that, he slept.

  * * *

  Bella gathered her clothes and limped out of the room, pausing to lower the lights as she departed. Ian was dead to the world. His body had been a considerable but pleasant weight on top of her. The fact that she still quivered with unsatisfied needs was not really his fault. She had told him she was ready. In fact, she had insisted he get to the main event.

  The poor man couldn’t have known that she was so nervous she felt like puking or fainting, or both.

  In retrospect, the massage had been the best part. Having Ian touch her so deliberately and sweetly lit a spark deep inside her belly that threatened to turn into a conflagration. Unfortunately, her lack of experience in the bedroom had sabotaged her.

  A savvier woman would have taken his hands and put them here or there or everywhere, demanding what she wanted and needed. Unfortunately, Bella had been so caught up in the sheer craziness of having this gorgeous man claiming her with out-of-control enthusiasm that she had allowed herself to be left behind. She certainly wasn’t going to wake him now and demand he finish her off with a flourish. The brave Scotsman had rescued a child from near-tragic circumstances. Ian needed his rest.

  Once she made it back to the relative safety of the master suite, she bolted the door and headed for the bathroom. Fortunately, there was no one to see if she shed a tear or two underneath the stinging spray of the shower. She soaped her body and shampooed her hair, all the while trying to forget that Ian had stroked her here and touched her there.

  She could count on one hand the times she had been intimate with a man… and still have two fingers left over. Clearly, she wasn’t cut out for sexual liaisons. Though she had learned to stand up for herself with her domineering father and also in the world of academia, physical relationships with the opposite sex were harder to negotiate.

  The unintentional pun made her laugh, even though she still felt like crying. It was a good bet Ian thought everything was fine. She certainly wasn’t going to disabuse him of that notion.

  Despite the adrenaline-filled hours of the day that had now passed into history, Bella had trouble sleeping. Her ankle throbbed, though she had taken a pain pill. Not only that, but she was accustomed to the muted sounds of traffic near her downtown condo back in North Carolina. The scream of sirens heading to the nearby hospital. Laughter and loud voices from the outside patio of the trendy restaurant next door.

  Here on Skye, the nights were deep and quiet. She honestly hadn’t realized how noisy her modern life was. Closing her eyes, she started counting all the sheep she had encountered on island roads thus far.

  Eventually, she slept…

  * * *

  Things looked marginally better in the morning. If she could convince Ian that she was blasé about the whole “scratch an itch” experiment last night, maybe he wouldn’t make a big deal about it.

  To that end, she brewed a large pot of coffee, settled down at the kitchen table with her favorite Scottish guidebook, and waited. It was almost nine when Ian finally appeared in the doorway. He was bleary-eyed and surprisingly unkempt for Britain’s #2 bachelor.

  His hair stood on end. The shirt he wore was wrinkled. As far as she could tell he had crawled straight out of bed without even bothering to take a shower. Considering his role in Jackie’s rescue, along with his later amorous activities, surely the man needed some soap and water.

  “Good morning, Ian.” She gave him a serene smile and returned her attention to the page she was reading.

  “I woke up and you were gone.”

  The accusation held a mixture of bewilderment and pique. Clearly her houseguest slept like the proverbial log. She had returned to her own room hours and hours ago. This was the first time he noticed?

  It occurred to her he had no idea she had fled after sex last night. Buoyed by his ignorance, she managed an airy wave. “Busy day. Lots to do. I made a big pot of coffee. Shall I fix you some toast?”

  “Don’t want any toast,” he mumbled. After pouring himself a drink in the largest mug the cottage had to offer, Ian dropped down in the chair opposite Bella’s. “You were gone when I woke up.” He reiterated his complaint.

  Bella decided to ignore him. She sipped her now-cold beverage and read the same page four times. It was one of the few occasions she and Ian had actually shared the breakfast table. They both liked silence in the mornings. Eating the initial meal in shifts had been the order of the day.

  It was impossible to pretend he wasn’t in the room, though she tried. It was also impossible not to think about him naked. Sweet heaven. For a man whose claims to fame were his IQ, his outward good looks, and his bank balance, it seemed unfair to other men that beneath the slightly scruffy clothing he wore, Ian Larrimore was built like a living, breathing god. Broad shoulders, flat belly, narrow hips, and below the waist… wow. Beneath the table, her knees pressed together instinctively.

  For twenty minutes Ian drank coffee and eyed her over the rim of his cup. The effort to appear calm and relaxed taxed her limited repertoire of acting skills. She felt as she were on trial. If he hoped to break her with some childish staring contest, he had no clue how desperate she was to shake off the vestiges of last night.

  Eventually, he gave up. He thumped his earthenware mug on the table and drummed his fingers on the scarred wood. His jaw squared off and his eyes blazed. “I want to know why you left, damn it.”

  Her brow creased. “I don’t understand. I needed to take a shower. What’s the big deal?”

  He blinked, clearly shocked that someone other than a man would be so cavalier about a booty call. “I thought women liked to cuddle.”

  She gave him a sweet smile. “You’re being silly, Ian. We’re housemates, not roommates.” Flipping open her notebook, she started jotting down ideas for day trips she wanted to make, along with the longer overnight ventures. Fortunately, her brother Finley didn’t expect her to stay here every minute of every day.

  Ian refilled his coffee and sat back down, cradling the mug between his hands. “I’ll never understand the female mind,” he said, his lips curling in a wry, self-deprecatory grin. “But for the record, I wish you had lingered this morning. I was disappointed when I woke up. I missed you.”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. His honest confession made her question her behavior and her motives. Was his sincerity for real?

  “What are you working on?” he asked. His tone was curious now, less combative than when he first showed up in the kitchen. The caffeine must have kicked in.

  “Well, my month and a half is flying by. I decided I’d better plan out my remaining itinerary at least loosely, or I’ll never fit in everything I want to do before I leave. Who knows when I’ll have a chance to return?”

  Ian reached over and filched her piece of paper. He studied it in silence. “You left off Edinburgh,” he said, frowning slightly.

  “Edinburgh is a big city. I thought I’d stick to the little out-of-the-way spots. Like Portree.”

  He crumpled up the list and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can. “I don’t want to cramp your style, Bella. I’ve already invaded what you thought was going to be your private time at your brother’s house. But…”

  He trailed off tantalizingly.

  “But what?”

  “I have a proposition for you,” he said.

  Everything inside her went on red alert. “Excuse me?”

  Instead of answering, he stood up and paced. A couple of times he opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but nothing came out.

  At last, she lost patience. “What is this prop
osition?”

  “Last night was fun. I’d like to spend more time with you, and as it happens, you could help me out with a certain situation. I was going to offer you money.” He winced. “But I remembered how you reacted to that envelope of cash when I first arrived.”

  “Money?” Surely this wasn’t what it sounded like.

  “I want you to come with me to Edinburgh for a few days.”

  “Why?” She hesitated, realizing this was her perfect opportunity to set the record straight. “Um, Ian… Last night was a spur of the moment thing. You and I are not going to continue having…” She wasn’t sure what to call that thing they had done. Sex seemed too blunt, but coitus was clinical and absurd.

  He jumped on her moment of indecision. “We enjoyed a mutually satisfying intimate encounter.”

  “It was spontaneous,” she said. “It happened. But it’s not a good idea to move forward. In fact, last night was a big mistake. I’d prefer it if we go back to being acquaintances.”

  The #2 bachelor in all of Great Britain appeared dumfounded. Maybe he’d never had a woman walk away. “Ye don’t know what ye’re saying,” he said, his accent thicker than usual. “Ye’re not making sense. Did I offend you somehow? I know I’m not always the sharpest tool in the shed. I’ll apologize for whatever stupid thing I said.”

  Her smile was forced. “No apologies required. Seriously. Last night was…enjoyable. We’d both had an emotional day. Things got out of hand. We’re not suited to each other, though. I’d prefer not to build on something that has no future. Please understand it’s not you. I’m sure some nice woman in Edinburgh will enjoy your company.”

  “I wasna going to pay ye for sex, ye daft woman.”

  “Then what was the money for?”

  “To hire you as a smokescreen. Though remembering your rant when I first arrived, I thought perhaps I could donate a large sum to the charity of your choice in exchange for—”