Christmas in Kilts

by Bronwen Evans

  He’d not find that with Fiona. The woman made it very obvious she had no reason to be agreeable. He could think of many, for one, her father needed an alliance with him to save his land. He got the impression she had ascertained his idea to align the families and did not want it.

  When he pulled himself out of his thoughts he noticed Emma’s pale face. “You must think the same if you have embarked on your idea of moving to Cornwall and remaining a spinster.”

  She gave a small smile. “Maybe I could love another, but while I still hold him in my heart there is no room for another.”

  “You have many years yet.” Did he still hold Francesca in his heart? Perhaps he did. She would always own a piece of it. Guilt would ensure that.

  “How long does it take for your heart to learn to love again?’ she asked.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps never.”

  Emma nodded. “That is what I was afraid of.”

  They arrived back at the lodge. “Why don’t you head to the library and I’ll find Mrs. Jones and order some tea. Then we can have a frank and honest chat.”

  Emma nodded and he watched her walk up the stairs. She looked a forlorn and lonely woman and for an instant his heart ached to give her what she wanted. But his decision had been made, and with everything going on with his upcoming proposal to Fiona Mackenzie, having an affair with Emma was a bad idea.

  A wonderful idea.

  A desirable idea.

  But self-preservation, the last six years of protecting himself, made his decision for him. Now he just had to let Emma down gently.

  * * *

  Emma threw her cape on the settee and began to pace. He was going to say no and she had no idea how to get him to change his mind.

  Dougray found her desirable so that was not the reason why he refused. It was most likely Thornton. Dougray would feel he was betraying his friend.

  She stood near the fire rubbing her hands together. She came up with only one option. She had to seduce him. Serena had explained that if he desired Emma, then it would not take much persuasion.

  Was she bold enough to make the decision for both of them? Could she take his rejection and ignore his choice?

  Just then he entered the room and moved directly to the whisky decanter, filling his glass.

  She came up behind him and softly asked, “Would you pour one for me too. I feel I may need it.”

  He hesitated but did as she asked. When he turned to face her she did not move back. She took the glass from his hand and ran her fingers over his knuckles.

  He stood looking down at her as she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip. The whisky sent heat curling into her stomach along with the courage to persuade Dougray to make the right decision.

  “Don’t say no.”

  He watched her lips move but said nothing.

  She continued. “This has nothing to do with my brother, only you and I.”

  A gentle fingertip tilted her chin. Dougray had moved closer.

  “How do you know I don’t already have a mistress, or a woman who might object?”

  She briefly closed her eyes against that thought. “I—it never occurred to me, because Thornton told me you were still in love with your wife.”

  He did not speak, merely kept staring at her.

  “There are many reasons why this is not possible.” The timbre of his voice had deepened, and his eyes filled with tenderness as he rubbed his thumb across her lips.

  She joked, “It’s hard to resist a lady who appreciates fine whisky.”

  Instinctively she clasped his hand, turning it over and brushing her lips across his knuckles.

  She felt him shudder, and his grip clenched painfully about her hand. If she saw the least bit of pity in his eyes at her absurd attempt at seduction she would lose her nerve. So she closed her eyes before she brought his hand to her cheek and laid it there.

  A sound rumbled from deep in his chest. A curse in Gaelic. She pressed for the advantage, moving in to mold her heated body against his muscled chest, stomach and thighs.

  She opened her eyes and lifting her head looked into his ocean stormy depths. “Please,” she whispered.

  For one brief second their eyes met, and then as if in slow motion his head lowered and he was kissing her. Too scared to break the magic she could barely breathe.

  The kiss deepened as her glass of whisky slipped from her hand and dropped to the rug. With growing hunger he began kissing her like he would never stop. When his tongue slipped into her mouth she almost thought she’d faint. The wet, passionate, open-mouthed kisses were such as she’d never known. She forgot everything but his taste. She laced her fingers behind his head, wanting his dizzying, mind-empting kisses to never end.

  On a curse he finally drew back, his chest heaving, while his eyes squeezed shut. She pressed her advantage. She kissed the strong column of his throat, running her tongue round to his ear and nibbling. He shivered and his hands tightened on her hips.

  She pressed little kisses along his jaw and the shiver became a shudder, but still he did not lower his head to kiss her again.

  She began to feel foolish. How was she, an unwanted spinster, meant to tempt a man who’d remained faithful to a dead wife for six years?

  She began to pull back. “I’m sorry. I . . .”

  He stopped her leaving his embrace, and looked down at her, and her heart jumped with joy. His eyes blazed with desire—unadulterated, barely controlled desire.

  He almost growled. “We have the truth. I want you. You’ve proven your point.”

  “Then your answer is yes,” she asked hopefully. Her heart pounded, as she stood poised on the precipice. Her dream would be granted or a life of nothingness would stretch before her. Which would he give her?

  He cupped her cheek, and wiped a tear she had not known she’d shed with his thumb. “On one condition.”

  She waited, too scared to breathe.

  “One night. We share one night only. And if you get with child, you will tell me.”

  One night would never be enough.

  Had to be enough.

  * * *

  Dougray drank in the triumph blazing in Emma’s expression. So innocent, yet so seductive. She stirred his senses like no other woman had, not even Francesca.

  “Of course I would tell you if I found myself with child, but I understand there are ways to ensure that does not happen.”

  “There are never any guarantees.”

  She stood before him giddy in her success, and he could not believe how easily he’d capitulated, but she’d proven how much she affected him.

  He wanted to scoop her up right now and take her to his bed, and it was but three in the afternoon.

  He should not want her quite this much but he blamed it on the fact he’d not had a woman in his arms for such a long time.

  As he stared at her she began to blush and he wondered if she would be so brave when he took her to his room. Would she have second thoughts?

  She was lovely, so vulnerable. She shivered, standing there not knowing what to do next.

  “There is still time to change your mind.”

  She took a deep breath, her bosom rising and falling, and the luscious sight sent another arrow of desire to his groin.

  “Never,” was her breathless reply that reached into his soul.

  He advanced on her, all thought of waiting until this evening gone. He dipped and with one hand behind her knees, and the other around her torso he picked her up. He carried her across the room, and reaching the closed door he indicated she should open it. She did with a shaking hand.

  When he reached his bedchamber he laid her tenderly on the huge bed. He stood staring down at her and knew that this moment was about to change his life forever.

  Chapter Six

  He leaned over her, surrounding himself in her scent, and he could barely take in the fact he’d begun to undress her.

  He wanted to rip the clothes from her body, he wanted her so much
, but he took his time undressing her. He pressed little kisses to every inch of skin he revealed, and he loved the astonishment and eagerness he read on her face.

  Only when she lay before him naked did he step back. He stood looking at her, but in the shadow cast by the canopy he could not read her features. He noted that as he stood staring she began to grow self-conscious and her hands moved to cover herself, but he reached out and stopped her.

  “You are so verra beautiful,” he whispered.

  She took a deep breath and her nipples quivered deliciously. Her hands moved to lie flat on the bed.

  She was a vision. Innocence and sin packaged and presented just for him. The gift of what she offered staggered him and a moment of doubt crept in.

  He did not deserve this.

  As if sensing his hesitation she declared, “Only you. I trust only you.”

  In a trice he came down to the bed, running his hands over her silken skin, starting with her long and beautiful legs. He nuzzled her throat, nipped at her collarbone, and licked the soft indentation at the base of her throat.

  At first she lay stiff beneath his touch, but like an unbroken colt, she relaxed under his soft touch and endearments. He stroked her hair, then began to run his fingers through the fair locks, scattering hairpins over the bed.

  “You have beautiful hair, it’s like spun gold,” he muttered, lifting a handful of the silken mass and brushing it against his cheek. He took a deep breath and prayed he’d have the strength to wait. He wanted to teach her the dizzy heights of anticipation. How good it felt to be touched and to return that touch.

  “You’re trembling,” she whispered.

  “I want you more than my next breath, but I’m conscious that this is your first time and you deserve my patience when all I really want is to bury myself in you.”

  Her face flushed with color and he balanced himself on his arms above her. He relished the fact that she was not small and delicate. She was a woman made for loving, and his desire to claim her was making him dizzy.

  “The feeling is utterly mutual, I assure you,” she almost purred in his ear.

  He saw that she’d finally begun to believe in the depth of his want. That he was not taking her to his bed because he felt sorry for her.

  So he moved on in her tutelage. He kissed down her body, paying homage to her breasts and rosy, pink nipples. He suckled one deep into his mouth, laving it with his tongue until she squirmed beneath him.

  The delightful little gasps she made saw his control balance on a knife’s edge. He kissed down her stomach and pushed her legs wider so that he fitted between her thighs.

  “Dougray, what are you doing?”

  He softly and slowly ran his hands over her stomach circling lower and lower toward her womanhood. He brushed her mons and she tensed. Then he brushed again, this time lingering in the task, tracing little swirling patterns over her hips, pelvic bone, and then lower, and lower still, until his fingertip caressed the most sensitive part of her, gliding smoothly, finding her little hardened nub.

  “Dear Lord. What . . .”

  He looked into her flushed face and said, “Sssh, my beauty. The first time is all about giving into the passion. Just let yourself experience the sensations. The second time will be about finding answers to your questions.”

  “Second time,” she asked in wonder.

  “I’m not letting you out of this bed until morning.”

  Her pupils sparkled and her lips parted on an “Oh!” of wonder and delight as he ran a finger down over her woman’s lips, which were already wet for him.

  He couldn’t wait to taste her.

  “Look at me, Emma.”

  Emma couldn’t look away if she tried.

  “Remember, trust in me and enjoy,” Dougray intoned, his burr a whisky-rich brew of sensuality and command.

  She raised herself to her elbows to see the dark hair on his head so close to her private place. Her breath jumped in her throat. The sight was indescribably erotic, so deliciously sinful, and when his tongue licked her she almost came off the bed. Awareness pulsed in the tips of her breasts and between her legs where he lay.

  He looked up at her as he ran his tongue over her a second time.

  “You taste like my favorite dessert.”

  Her eyelids slid half closed. She shivered as she felt his hot breath and tensed waiting for the next contact of his tongue on her.

  This time he suckled her nub and she let out a cry. She panted a little, closing her eyes to better give herself over to the wicked sensations created by his tongue.

  “Lie back,” he commanded harshly, his breathing becoming ragged.

  The urgency in his voice saw her comply. Besides, her arms were shaking so much she could barely hold herself up.

  * * *

  His large hand cupped her bottom, his fingers now joining his clever tongue, and Emma wondered if she’d survive the bombardment of sensations wracking her body.

  Then he set about showing her exactly what his talented tongue and fingers could do. His arm lay across her hips holding her in place. She could do nothing but lie back and get swept away by a tidal wave of sensation.

  Her hips rose of their own accord, intuitively seeking more. One knee fell to the side, blatantly opening her completely to his ministrations.

  She let the sensations feed her lonely soul. She could not help it. The intimacy of his kiss, and touch, made her shuttered heart crack open. She was too lost in the joy of what she was sharing with the man she loved to warn herself that this was only one night. She pushed away the thoughts of what she would have to pay when this was over.

  She’d have memories and oh, my God, what sweet, wonderful memories they would be.

  His finger entered her and her ability to think fled.

  His finger was joined by another. Her head spun, the earth whirled, and her eyes opened seeking him, finding eyes as dark as sapphires riveted on her face, a sheen of moisture making his skin gleam like polished marble.

  She saw the need shining there but still he held back.

  “It will likely hurt the first time but I’ll go slow.”

  She swallowed and nodded, she would have begged if she’d had to. She wanted him to claim her. To be her first and only lover.

  She heard rather than saw him fumble with the closing of his breeches.

  “I want to see you, like you see me.”

  He stopped and a flicker of pain crossed his face as he breathed in deep.

  Her face flushed with color but she didn’t care if she sounded wanton, hell, she’d all but begged him to take her to his bed.

  In one swift graceful movement he rose from the bed and shrugged off his jacket. She sat up and beckoned him with her little finger. He raised an eyebrow and gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “I want to help.” What she really wanted was to touch him. Learn him. Imprint him on her memory.

  He stood beside the bed and she rose to her knees to unknot his cravat. Helping him take off his clothes seemed far more intimate than having his mouth on her had.

  He pulled his linen shirt over his head and she followed its path with her fingers. They trailed over muscles and wiry black chest hair.

  All her thoughts centered on him. He was all male. His chest was broad and solid muscle. This time she let her fingers dance down his torso, following the fine dark hair that tapered where it grew lower on his stomach. Her mouth watered waiting to see what lay under those tented breeches.

  He held her gaze while peeling off his breeches and smalls. She was held speechless and she almost forgot to breathe. His flat stomach gave way to rippled muscles round his sculptured hips but what gave her the first cause for concern was the thick swollen member straining proudly erect.

  She swallowed and tentatively reached out to touch him. She ran her finger down the magnificent length of him and it jumped. She grew bolder and she wrapped her hand round him. He was hard and pulsed in her hand but the skin was silky smooth. She saw a d
rop of liquid at its tip and she rubbed her thumb over it and Dougray groaned. She let go.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes and no. I’m barely controlling myself letting you explore me. It feels so good it hurts.” He reached for her hand and brought it back to his body. “I love how you explore.”

  He watched her as she indulged her fantasy. She cupped his sacs and watched sweat form on his brow as she gently squeezed. When she caressed his buttocks he looked as if he wanted to devour her, or consume her. She worked her way back to his huge erection and her trepidation grew with her desire.

  He read her like a book, his half smile lifting the corners of his mouth, his dimples adding to the air of cockiness. When she wrapped her fingers back around his erection his smile widened with a hint of purring masculine self-assurance in it.

  He knew he was a magnificent specimen of manhood.

  And he was oh, so right.

  He didn’t give her time to do any more thinking. He knelt next to her on the edge of the bed and gently pushed her onto her back. He let his body press her into the mattress and she reveled in the feel of naked flesh to naked flesh. His hardness to her softness.

  He found her hands and locked his fingers with hers and drew them up over her head. It made her breasts press into his chest and her nipples ached where his chest hair abraded them.

  She waited as he used his knees to spread her wide beneath him and his erection probed between her thighs.

  “Thank you,” she said and she pressed a kiss to his lips.

  He held still above her and they simply stared at each other. Then he took her lips in a bruising kiss while his fingers found her woman’s nub and soon she was squirming beneath him, all thoughts gone. All she could focus on was the sensations gripping her body.

  Her hands sank into his thick curls holding his head exactly where she could deepen the kiss, battling for some control.