Emma, on the other hand, was all about family ties. She was marriage and babies and picket fences. Even if he had a future, there would be no future for the two of them. He allowed his certainty to ring in his voice. “I’m positive, Emma.”
She gave him a long, searching look, and Dair thought for sure that his little speech had meant the end of the evening’s pleasure. He feared it might even affect her decision regarding the treasure hunt. See what trying to be noble got a man?
Trouble. Trouble and frustration.
Finally, she nodded. “I heard what you said, Alasdair MacRae. I give you my word that I’ll never accuse you of leading me on. Take me to bed, MacRae. Make love to me.”
He all but keeled over in shock. Emma Tate had surprised him yet again. Thank God. He cleared his throat. “That sounds like a fine idea, Texas. I can’t think of anything I’d like better.”
For once, Alasdair MacRae spoke the God’s honest truth.
E
MMA SLIPPED INTO HER
bathroom to don the nightgown he’d purchased at the dress shop. The red silk clung to her curves, showcased more than concealed. It tied at the shoulders and as she formed the bows, she pictured his fingers tugging the knot free and she shivered with anticipation.
She brushed out her hair and dabbed an exotic scent of bergamot and spice on her wrists, behind her ears, and between her breasts. She felt wicked and wonderful and gloriously alive, and the night was just beginning. A new life was just beginning.
Emma might have doubts about the existence of fairies, but when it came to her feelings for Dair, she now suffered no such indecision. Emma recognized that this was meant to be.
They
were meant to be.
She stepped out into the bedroom. He’d left a single lamp burning and lit a half dozen candles which bathed the room in a soft golden glow. He lay stretched out on the bed, naked, powerful and sleek. His smoky eyes watched her with an intensity that brought shivers to her skin.
He again reminded her of a jungle cat, she decided. Primed and ready to pounce upon his prey. Then he rolled off the bed and stood. His sex jutted out, huge and ready. Tension coiled inside her. Emma forced herself to stand her ground.
He crossed the room to her, towering above her, the heat of his body rolling off him in waves. He reached out and curled a lock of her hair around his finger. “I don’t know when my money was so well spent. You look like a pagan goddess in that gown.”
Then he bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. “The first time I saw you, I wanted you. You made me hungry.”
“You bought ice cream.”
“And thought about licking you. Same thing happened the day you walked into Jake Kimball’s study hoping, I thought, to convince him to marry you, I pictured you like this.” With one finger, he traced the swell of her breast just above the gown’s neckline and Emma quivered beneath his touch.
“While your sister sold my friend on your skills, I mentally stripped away that pretty yellow dress and put you in red. Briefly, I’ll admit. I got you naked very fast.” With two quick tugs, the gown slipped to the floor. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“I noticed you staring.” She drew a sharp breath when his fingertip began to trace feathery circles around her nipples.
A mocking smile played upon his lips. “It was rude of me.”
“You’re a rude man.” Her breasts ached for the touch of his hands.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, his voice rough with arousal. His finger trailed between her breasts and down her belly to her navel. Her muscles clenched. “My intentions are to torment.”
“I’ve observed that you seldom fail in your endeavors.”
“That’s true.” In a movement that surprised her, he turned her around. He stood close, pulling her back against him. His sex was hot against her bottom. “I almost always get what I want.”
Emma’s mouth went dry when she realized that he’d maneuvered them in front of a full-length mirror. She watched, her breathing quick and shallow, as his large, tanned hands covered her breasts. Her body arched, an instinctive offering, as he circled and kneaded and stimulated. In her reflection, she saw her erect nipples peeking through his fingers as he played with them, pinching and tugging and rubbing. Pleasure arrowed through her straight to her woman’s core and her legs trembled. “This is wicked,” she breathed.
“I like wicked,” he replied, his voice husky and raw. In the mirror, their gazes met and held. “I like watching you. I like watching what I do to you. Look.”
Emma watched their reflection, transfixed, as one of his hands swept lower, across her flat belly. Anticipation built within her. She wanted to groan when his hand paused just above her reddish curls.
“There. See how your thighs parted, how you instinctively opened for me?” He bent to nibble at her earlobe, then nip gently at her neck. “Now watch my fingers find you, Texas. See how they explore your soft, feminine folds.”
As he spoke, his hand moved between her legs. Watching him, hearing him, and feeling him all at the same time—it was the most erotic experience of Emma’s life.
“You’re so wet. Swollen and hot.” The hand on her breast tightened as he slipped a finger into her sheath. His breath hissed between his teeth. “Tight.”
He stroked her with his finger. Stretched her. His thumb flicked over her most sensitive skin and Emma whimpered, then moaned with protest when he took his hand away.
He brought his hand up to his face, closed his eyes, and inhaled the scent of her on his finger. “Mmm…” Then he opened his eyes, stared deep into hers, and licked her wetness from his hand. “Sweet.”
Oh, my.
“And not enough. I simply must taste more of you.”
Oh my oh my.
“Watch me drink from you, Emma.” He moved in front of her, sank to his knees. He dipped his head and licked her.
Emma’s heart hammered, her knees turned to water. His hands grasped her waist and supported her weight, lifted her, gave him better access. She threaded her fingers into his hair to steady herself as he attended to her with the most intimate of kisses. Her head lolled back and her eyes threatened to close, but she couldn’t drag her gaze from the reflection in the mirror.
Tension inside her built. His breath was hot against her, his tongue bold. When he fitted his mouth against her and sucked, she cried out. “No. No more. I can’t bear it.”
Dair glanced up at her and smiled. “I fear you’ll have to bear it, Texas. I haven’t drunk my fill. Now, watch how your skin flushes and your eyes glaze over when I make you come. I find the sight incredibly arousing.”
He proved his point within seconds and when the spasms of pleasure racked her, Emma melted, her legs no longer able to support her. He made a masculine growl of satisfaction as he lowered her gently onto the floor.
Still, he didn’t stop. With his hot mouth and busy tongue, he brought her up again, over again, until, writhing beneath him, she begged him to stop. “Please. It’s too much. Dair, it’s…oh-h-h…” She ended on a sigh as he gave her one last sweetly tender intimate kiss then rolled up onto his knees.
“Delicious,” he repeated. “The perfect appetizer.”
She lay exhausted against the Persian rug. It took a moment for his words to penetrate. She lifted her head. “Appetizer?”
“I intend a full course meal. I’ve been hungry for you for a long time, Emma. It will take some time to sate my appetite.”
“You’ll kill me,” she said as he lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bed, and gently laid her down.
“You’re a strong woman.” Dair climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside her, propping himself up on his elbow. “You can handle me.”
Emma wanted to handle him. She wanted to drive him wild, to create within him the same desperation, the same urgent passion that he’d stoked to life within her. So she took control of the moment by rolling him onto his back and lifting herself over him.
She kissed his chest as he’d kissed hers, nipping at his small round nipples, sucking him, coaxing a groan from his throat. Then she licked her way down his body, savoring the salty male taste of him. Lust sizzled through her, itchy and achy and immediate. Her tongue circled his navel, then she lifted her head, allowing long strands of her hair to stroke across his sex. It twitched when she paused, her mouth mere inches away.
“God, Emma.”
Power roared through her, an aphrodisiac more potent than any other. Her pulse pounded in an age-old rhythm. She smiled, purred, then licked the velvet length of him. He muttered a curse. She laughed, blowing her warm breath across his swollen tip, then tasting. “Salty,” she murmured. “Musky.”
His hands grabbed the sheets and his expression went taut with arousal bordering on pain. When she took him in her mouth he bore it but a moment before crying out and losing control.
The jungle cat pounced. Triumph flashed through Emma as he flipped her onto her back, positioned himself, and thrust deep. He was hard and hot inside her and Emma reveled in it.
Supporting himself by his arms, his head thrown back, the cords in his neck and the grimace on his face betrayed the intensity of his need. Dair pulled out, then pushed back in, pounding her hips into the soft mattress, stroking her own arousal back to a fevered pitch. She rose to meet him, again and again. Was that his voice or hers whispering, “Faster…harder…more?”
Dair’s rhythm matched the words, his thrusts urgent. Savage in intensity. Emma sensed it coming. Tension building…stretching tight…tighter…
She shattered. Waves of pleasure surged through her and she surrendered to sensation. Through the haze of her own fulfillment, she saw him look down at her, look into her eyes, into her soul. “Emma.” He thrust hard once more and emptied his hot seed inside her.
Their gazes locked, Emma said his name. Then silently, completely, she gave him her heart.
CHAPTER TEN
D
AIR DRIFTED TOWARD WAKEFULNESS
a contented man. He’d spent the night under his own roof in a comfortable bed snuggled up to the most exciting, sensual, sensuous woman he’d ever known. How many times had he wakened her through the night? Three or was it four? She’d awakened him twice. God, it was good to be alive.
All right, MacRae. That’s not a direction you want to take your thoughts. Not today.
He frowned into his pillow, then reached for the woman with whom he shared the bed.
He found empty space. His frown deepened and he wrenched open his eyes. The sudden hot weight in his belly eased when he spied Emma Tate back in her nightgown and down on her hands and knees beside the bed.
He rolled and sat up. “I hesitate to ask, but…”
Worry dotted her expression. “I can’t find my necklace.”
The hot weight settled back into his belly. “Emma, I didn’t steal it. I didn’t leave the bed all night. I wouldn’t do that to you again. Not even before last night, but especially—”
“I know, Dair. I know you didn’t take it.”
“You do?” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m confused.”
“I know you wouldn’t steal the necklace from me again.” She rose to her feet, then added, “Nevertheless, it’s missing.”
Thinking aloud, he said, “You wore it with the nightgown. When did you take it off? Did I take it off?”
“I did.” She took one more survey of the floor beneath the bed, then stood. “I took it off after the first time we made love. You collapsed on top of me when you were done and it was pressing into my chest.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he said, remembering.
“I set it on the bedside table. I know I did. It’s disappeared, just like Kat’s did.” She frowned, her eyes narrowing. “Jake Kimball hasn’t come to visit, has he?”
Dair shot her a scowl, then rolled out of bed and grabbed his pants from the chair where he’d left them. As he pulled them on, he made a quick scan of the room. Silver candlesticks remained on the mantel. An ivory trinket box sat on the desk. A Flemish landscape hung on the wall. Nothing but the necklace was missing. A Highland Riever type hadn’t paid a call.
“This makes no sense,” he said. “Someone would have had to get into this room while we were asleep. Through a door that squeaks every time it’s opened. That simply couldn’t have happened. I sleep lightly. I would have awakened. It has to be here, Emma. You’re just not looking in the right place.”
“Then you find it,” she snapped. She flounced to her wardrobe and removed a clean set of clothing, then paraded into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.
He winced at the noise, then muttered a foul word and made a quick, but thorough search of the room. When that failed to turn up the missing piece of jewelry, he did it again. The hot weight of dread settled into his stomach like an extended-stay guest.
He tested the door. The hinges squeaked each time he opened it. He repeated the action with the French doors leading out onto the balcony. Their hinges were even noisier. Dair might not like this home he owned, but he valued his possessions. Squeaky hinges served a purpose—one of the little lessons the Highland Riever had learned long ago.
What happened to the damned necklace? Was it in any way possible for a thief to have sneaked into the room without waking him? To have found the necklace in the dark, then made off with it and only it without detection? Who in the city’s underworld but himself had the ability to pull off such a feat? No one.
Had someone been in there the whole time he and Emma had been making love? How did he get in? And out? Anger pumped through Dair’s veins. He’d kill the son of a bitch when he found him. Standing in the middle of the room, his hands braced on his hips, he murmured, “This is damned strange.”
The bathroom door opened and a freshened, fully dressed Emma stepped out. He could all but see the words
I told you so
hovering on her tongue, but she wisely held them back. “Are you confident in the characters of your household staff, Dair?”
“They weren’t in residence last night. I gave instructions for everyone to be dismissed after our supper was served.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then shot her a puzzled look. “This is in no way a criticism, Emma, but it occurs to me that you’re taking this rather well. Considering everything that’s happened, I’d expect you to be…well…you’re not ordinarily a ranter, but I find this calmness of yours curious.”