Kiss Me, Macrae: A Winter Novella

by Amy Sandas

  Although she most definitely doubted herself at that moment, she didn’t doubt him in the least.

  Chapter 8

  Macrae held to his word.

  Though staying at Darrow House, he spent a great deal of his time holed up in the library. Over the next couple days, Allegra encountered him only infrequently—at breakfast, while passing in the hall, across the table at dinner, but never just the two of them and never for any great lengths of time.

  Though their behavior toward each other was utterly innocuous in word and manner, an underlying current of intensity ran through every interaction. He never once attempted to get her alone where he could attempt a caress or a kiss or a seductive comment. Allegra might have suspected his attraction had run its course if not for the smoldering heat of possession she saw in his eyes when no one else was paying attention.

  It had taken years of navigating New York City society to establish herself as a woman who did not fall as easy prey to lazy flirtation or false flattery. She had long ago become expert at deflecting unwanted advances and thwarting overzealous suitors—and in the beginning, there had been many. It was possible a few gentlemen had held honest affection for her, but the fortune she’d inherited from her mother had been a significant draw for a wide variety of others.

  Once it had become accepted that she was not for the marriage mart, interest had eventually waned. And for that, she’d been infinitely grateful as it had allowed her to focus on what was important. Because Allegra had known what she wanted to do with her life from a very young age and becoming a society wife was not it.

  She had been about five years old the first time she’d visited her father’s office in the city. She had been fascinated from the start and loved everything about the work he did. It was only a few years later that she set a goal to work her way into the position of partner in her father’s architecture firm.

  She’d sneak off to his drafting room every chance she got to study his drawings and blueprints. She fell in love with the straight lines and arches and angles. She admired the many and varied measurements and vowed to memorize every single notation and symbol that eventually became the amazing buildings lining the streets of the rapidly growing city.

  Away at school, she’d focused intently on anything even remotely associated with the skills required for architecture. And as she grew older, she spent more and more time at her father’s office, talking with those he employed, borrowing his books, soaking up every bit of the world she’d come to revere so intently.

  Everyone had thought her interest amusing. Her father had viewed it alternately as annoying and irrelevant. But Allegra had been determined to prove to him her worthiness with a project that took her nearly three years to complete. She’d kept it secret, waiting for the right time to present it with the hopes of convincing him she was serious in her pursuit of architecture as a career.

  And then she’d met Lucas Miller.

  He’d been a draftsman at her father’s firm. Young, handsome, and ambitious, he was one of the very few people who did not disregard her interest.

  She had been twenty-five when she first met him and had long been unsusceptible to careless compliments and false promises. But Lucas had played his cards just right. He’d smiled so shyly and earnestly. Their social positions were not nearly matched and he made it clear from the start that he knew her to be above him. But whenever she’d stopped in to her father’s office, Lucas had found his way to her side and he did something no one else had ever done before—he’d taken her passion for architecture seriously. Eventually, she’d started explaining some of her ideas which led to sharing a few of her designs.

  He’d been the first and only person to encourage her to take her work to her father and demand a place at his side.

  But not yet, he’d say.

  Wait until after the current project. It’s taking all of your father’s focus right now.

  Keep working on your designs. You wouldn’t want to present anything but your very best when the time comes.

  Slowly and patiently, over several months, Lucas had gained Allegra’s trust and built up her confidence. And then came the day he’d kissed her.

  She hadn’t been expecting it at all. One moment, they’d been leaning over some blueprints and the next, his lips had been on hers. His kisses were pleasant—practiced and smooth. He knew exactly when to press forward and when to pull back. He knew where to put his hands to make her wish for more contact. And he knew exactly how to play in to her preference for being in control.

  Looking back, she could see exactly how he manipulated her into thinking an affair was all her idea. He’d spent months convincing her that he existed only to support her, to help her achieve her dreams, to encourage and direct her passion toward the life she’d always wanted.

  And the truth was…she’d been more than ready for an affair. After pushing men away for so many years, she’d finally found one who accepted her greatest ambition. It made sense that she would wish to share even more of herself.

  She knew better now.

  She should have listened when Lucas continually insisted he wasn’t worthy of her. It was probably the only truth he’d ever uttered.

  Her experience with Lucas had proven to Allegra that men would say and do anything to get what they wanted. And women were more often than not used as a means to an end.

  What she couldn’t figure out was what Macrae hoped to accomplish with his wild declaration.

  She would be stupid to believe he actually intended to wed her. The idea was ludicrous.

  She could, however, imagine him using such a line to get her into his bed. He’d boldly and shamelessly exhibited his desire for her during their first two encounters. And Macrae did not seem the type of man to simply walk away from something he wanted once attaining it proved to be a little difficult. Despite what he’d said, seduction seemed the most likely motivation for his actions.

  Yet he vowed not to touch her or kiss her.

  It seemed an odd way to carry on a seduction, but she began to wonder if it wasn’t actually an ingenious strategy.

  Allegra had learned a hard lesson with Lucas. But as the days went on, she asked herself more than once, what would be so bad about having an affair with Macrae?

  He didn’t need to touch her or kiss her to inspire a rush of desire. He could melt her into a puddle of longing from across the room with the slightest curve of his lips. The longer he kept himself distant, the more intensely she craved him to the point that she’d lie in bed at night reliving every detail of their prior sensual embraces, except she’d imagine them continuing…

  By barely even trying, the Scotsman made her feel too open, too raw. Too hungry. If she gave in to her desire for the man and took him to her bed, what would become of her once it was all over?

  That was the true question. And one she couldn’t find an answer to.

  Four days into Macrae’s stay at Darrow House, Allegra was returning to the house after her daily walk and had just entered the garden through the back gate. Her cheeks were chilled and her toes near numb, but she felt invigorated and inspired by the mountainous landscape she’d quite literally fallen in love with and intended to go to her room to sketch out some ideas she’d had during the walk.

  She was nearly half-way down the center garden path when the door to the house opened up ahead and Macrae stepped out.

  The instant their eyes met, they both stopped.

  It was the very first time they’d encountered each other without anyone else around. After a long pause, as though by silent mutual agreement, they slowly started forward again.

  Allegra held her breath, though she couldn’t quite figure out why the moment felt so poignant.

  He was just a man.

  A man whose green eyes flashed with sensual promise. A man whose kisses made Allegra forget the rest of the world even existed.

  A man who’d said they were fated.

  As they neared each other in the gently fa
lling snow—with her heart pounding, her skin tingling, and her belly a riot of warm flutters—she almost believed him.

  They met beside a dormant bed of roses. The tangle of thorny branches looked stark and beautiful in the snow.

  Allegra curled her fingers within her wool mittens at Macrae’s easy smile.

  “’Ello, lassie.” The sparkle of life in his eyes and the rich, low timbre of his voice brought a tightness to her chest and a heavy ache between her thighs.

  It was in that moment that she acknowledged her reaction was more than mere desire. It was an intrinsic, physical craving. A soul-deep recognition. A basic need.

  And it honestly terrified her.

  “Enjoying the bonnie weather?” he asked when she failed to respond through the sudden strangle of emotion in her throat.

  “It’s very beautiful,” she managed to reply.

  “Aye.” His voice had gotten even lower, the tone as intimate as the one he used when he was groaning against her lips.

  Her attention fell to his mouth. He kept his beard neatly trimmed since coming to Darrow House. She imagined the soft whiskers brushing her skin while his firm lips pressed to hers.

  He lowered his chin with a rough sound while his gaze—intense and focused—claimed hers. He didn’t take a step closer, but she felt his warmth reaching out to her. “Are ye wantin’ me tae kiss ye, lassie? All ye’ve gotta do is ask and I’ll take ye into my arms right now.”

  His words tipped her off-balance, made her yearn and sweat beneath her winter layers. “No. You can’t do that.” Her words sounded ridiculously halfhearted.

  “Have ye been aching for me these past days?” he asked, making Allegra’s thighs tremble. “Because I’ve been aching for ye.”

  A shiver that had nothing to do with the wintry wind sweeping through the garden coursed over her skin. She couldn’t find the breath to refute him.

  He was right. She was aching for him—straight through her core, from head to toe.

  She wasn’t sure what he saw in her eyes that made him part his lips on a long, measured exhale, but the sound was tortured and rough. With his green eyes blazing, he stepped toward her. For a moment, his big body completely blocked her view of the house and provided a buffer against the wind. She forced her features into a stern expression, wanting desperately to prove she couldn’t be swayed by his sinful voice or his coaxing words.

  If he had any idea how tempted she was to just curl her body into his solid strength, she’d be lost.

  “My bed’s never felt so cold or empty since I started imagining what it’d be like tae have ye in it. My hands shake with the longing tae slide over your skin. It’s killin’ me not tae feel your heartbeat against mine.”

  Allegra’s breath was shallow, her head dizzy, and her knees weak, but she forced herself to reply. “Don’t say those things to me.”

  “’Tis the truth.”

  She shook her head. “And what comes after I’ve warmed your bed?”

  His expression became fiercely earnest. “Ye ken what I want, lassie.”

  “Right. You want to marry me,” she said with a harsh little laugh.

  There was a pause while he peered into her eyes as though searching for a lost secret. Then something unreadable passed through his gaze as he sighed. “I understand if ye canna bring yourself tae believe me just yet. But promise me, lass, that when ye do”—his voice lowered to a heavy murmur— “ye’ll come tae me straight-away.”

  Allegra struggled to breathe as she searched for a response. But then he took a step back and gave a short bow. “Have a lovely day, Miss Smithson.”

  After stepping carefully past her so as not to touch her with even a brush of his coat, he continued down the path.

  Chapter 9

  Macrae wasn’t present at dinner that night.

  Allegra’s rush of discontent at the fact was poignant and swift. When she casually noted his absence, Susanna explained that the research he’d been completing in the Darrow library had hit an obstacle, requiring a return to his lodge for some materials that would hopefully help him.

  Allegra was curious despite herself. “I understand he’s working on a restoration?”

  “Aye,” Lord Darrow replied, his tone solemn. “A tragic fire several years ago destroyed most of Macrae’s ancestral manor.”

  Allegra’s stomach sunk at the loss she detected in the earl’s voice as she recalled the stone memorial overlooking the loch. “Were lives lost?” she asked gently.

  The earl nodded and Susanna reached out to lay a comforting hand on her husband’s forearm as she replied, “Baird lost his younger sister in the blaze. Aileen was only seventeen years old. Apparently, the brave girl had gone back into the house to save her beloved dog and was overcome by the smoke.”

  “Oh no,” Allegra breathed through a tight throat.

  “Baird’s mother and father moved to a cottage on the coast,” the earl continued. “They refused to return to the place where they’d lost their daughter. His mother passed on shortly after—some say from the depth of her grief—and their father followed a couple years later. Baird was in Edinburgh when the tragedy occurred and I suspect he carries some guilt for not being home to save his sister. He didn’t return to the manor for a long time and only began to consider rebuilding a couple years ago.”

  Allegra’s heart ached. “That must have been very difficult.”

  “The estate goes back centuries. It’s one of the oldest homesteads in the area and bears testament to various eras throughout history. Baird does not want the history and tradition of generations to end in this one.”

  It had to be an unbelievably daunting and emotional task. “Is he attempting to rebuild a replica of what stood before?” she asked.

  Darrow nodded. “Aye, but the challenge lies in the fact that the manor had been built in parts over several generations. The original blueprints for each project that expanded the original structure were destroyed in the fire. Fortunately, our libraries hold copies of a few of the blueprints and various descriptions of Macrae’s estate, but there are still several missing pieces that he is doing his best to recreate by memory.”

  “He is doing it all on his own?”

  “He hired an architect in Edinburgh to do much of the initial work, but the man could only get so far with what was available to him. There is still much to be done.”

  “Allie.” The tone of Susanna’s voice already told Allegra what her friend was going to say. “Perhaps you could help him.”

  Allegra’s stomach churned. “I doubt Mr. Macrae would need any input from me when he’s already employed the skills of a professional.”

  Susanna tossed her a look of indignation. “The lack of a position within a New York City firm does not negate your talent and skill. You studied architecture your entire life.” She turned to her husband. “She’s quite amazing. You should see her designs.”

  Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be possible. Her work had all been tucked into Lucas’s portfolio before he took them to her father and claimed them as his own.

  She’d only created a handful of sketches since.

  Susanna’s eyes softened as she seemed to sense Allegra’s tension. “Well, just think on it. This project is very important to Macrae and I’m sure he’d appreciate another expert’s opinion on it.”

  Allegra was grateful her friend appeared content to let the matter rest at that. Unfortunately, Allegra couldn’t let it go quite so easily.

  That night, as she lay in bed with her eyes tightly closed in an attempt to sleep, she couldn’t keep visions of turrets and ramparts and portcullises from her mind. She wondered what materials where being used in the renovation. And she worried about the missing pieces Darrow had mentioned.

  She wanted to see the historical blueprints.

  She needed to get a look at the new building plans.

  Glancing at the clock, she noted the time as well after two o’clock in the morning. The library where Macrae holed up much of
every day would surely be abandoned at this hour. She’d just creep down for a quick little peek.

  Slipping from her bed, Allegra pulled on a thick robe to ward off the castle’s winter chill and slipped her feet into a pair of slippers.

  The castle was quiet and the library was nearly dark when she entered. A fireplace with a long sofa in front of it stood off to the left. The fire in the grate had spent to a low crackling glow. An oversized desk presided over the far end of the narrow room and Allegra could just make out the spread of blueprints and documents and sketches beneath the light of a single lamp.

  Anticipation and a thrill she hadn’t felt in far too long slid through her as she crossed the room. She was nearly to the desk when a vaguely familiar sound suspiciously similar to a snore brought her up short.

  A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Baird Macrae sprawled out on the sofa, fast asleep. He was far too large to look comfortable on the narrow bit of furniture. His coat and waistcoat had been cast aside and one booted foot dangled over the armrest while the other was planted on the floor, likely to keep his oversized frame from rolling to the floor.

  Without making a conscious decision to do so, Allegra crept closer to the Scotsman’s slumbering form.

  His hair looked darker in the firelight and her belly flip-flopped at the sight of the russet-colored locks falling carelessly over his forehead and the slight part of his lips, gone soft and utterly sensual in the relaxation of sleep.

  If he opened his eyes right then, would he smile at her as he’d done that morning at the inn? Would his green eyes darken with desire? Would he drawn her toward him, pull her down until she was stretched out atop him?

  Allegra!

  With a shake of her head, she turned away to glance back at the desk.

  She should leave. Her curiosity wasn’t worth getting caught creeping about in her nightclothes in the middle of the night. If Macrae awoke and found her there, what excuse would she have for her presence?