She decided she was ready to find out. “I want to win that snow globe, so I guess I should hear the more substantial clues.”
Again, his predatory gaze swept over her. He reached out and smoothed an errant strand of hair away from her face, then his fingers lingered on her cheek, softly stroking her skin as he said, “Your hair reminds me of sunrise off the coast of Tahiti, a dozen different colors of gold with a subtle streak of fiery red. Tell me, Emma, is there fire inside you as well?”
Her voice would have quavered had she attempted to speak, so staring into the heated gunmetal glow of his eyes, she settled for a nod. She definitely had fire inside her. A hot one, and he’d built it.
“I suspected as much.” He freed her hair from its pins and it went tumbling down her back. He buried his fist in the long, silken strands. “Beautiful. So beautiful.”
Emma saw his heavy-lidded gaze drop to her mouth. She felt his fingers play at the back of her neck. Anticipation sizzled within her as his face moved toward hers. “Ask me.”
“Hmm?”
His breath feathered against her skin. “You need to ask me.”
Oh, the man played dirty.
Fine. That made it all the easier for her. The wanton inside Emma wanted to laugh as she decided the time had come to make her winning move.
“No. I won’t beg for your kisses, Mr. MacRae. I think I’ll simply take one.” Then Emma closed the distance between them, and kissed him.
She sensed his startled surprise, but he quickly got over that. Dair MacRae took control of the kiss and Emma Tate let him.
It had been so long and it felt so good. It was nice to know that she could still make a man want her.
He was unexpectedly gentle with her at first, a whisper of a touch that shouldn’t have sparked a fire in her blood, but did. His teeth scraped softly over her bottom lip, and Emma couldn’t repress a helpless purr of pleasure.
He framed her face in his hands, tipped her head back, and deepened the kiss. Emma’s world tilted. He was good at this. Very good. It had been so long since she’d allowed a man to reach past her defenses. A long time since she’d wanted one there.
Need rose within her, a hollow, grinding ache she felt through to the very core of her body. Emma lifted her hands, ran them across the breadth of his shoulders, then upward. She buried her fingers in his hair and responded to the wild, willing yearning he’d created within her by pouring all the hot, hungry need into her kiss.
His hands released her face, skimmed downward, settled at her waist, his fingers tightening in a viselike grip. He broke the kiss, drew his head away. His breathing was heavy as his gaze locked with hers.
She’d surprised him, all right. The admiration in those heated silver eyes boring into her soul told her so.
He spoke in a low, slow rumble. “First left, second right, third left will save you.”
Save her? “What do you mean?”
“A shortcut out of the maze.”
Oh. Emma’s stomach sank. Had she misread the signs? Oh no. Had she just made a fool of herself? “You’re sending me away?”
She tried to move away from him, but his hands held her captive. “Only if you wish to be saved. I’m not a gentleman, Emma Tate, and you tempt me more than I had anticipated. If you meet me in the center of the maze, be prepared for the consequences.”
She swallowed hard. “Consequences?”
“I’ll not stop with a kiss.”
His declaration sent a bolt of desire pulsing through her. She spoke in order to give herself time to think. “So you’re a rogue with a conscience?”
His mouth tilted in a wry smile. “I’m just a man.”
And she was just a woman, a woman with needs that hadn’t been attended to for so long. Dair MacRae was the most exciting man she’d ever met and right now, at this moment in time, Emma wanted exciting. She wanted dashing and daring and dangerous. She wanted…him.
With that acknowledgment, any lingering insecurity disappeared. Self-confidence brought a calming sense of peace that cleared the way for her to do nothing more than feel. She was the Emma of old. Brave, courageous, and bold.
She lifted her chin, met his simmering stare with a seductive one of her own and asked, “And to the temple, MacRae? What’s the fastest path to the temple?”
His eyes went to black, and his voice sounded raspy as he said, “First right. Second right. Third right. Go, woman. Fast.”
She stood, an animal sensing danger, feeling more alive than she’d felt in years. At the entrance to the alcove, she tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder, then picked up her skirts and turned right.
She reached the replica temple in little more than a minute. Her blood was humming, her heart was singing, and she wanted to shout out with
joie de vivre.
Instead, she settled for wrapping her arms around herself and spinning around.
“My God, you’re…”
“…alive,” she breathed.
He caught her with a growl and yanked her against him, then devoured her with his kiss. His mouth was ravenous, and she sensed wildness in him, an elemental savagery barely controlled.
And Emma gloried in it. She felt womanly and desirable and…powerful. His clever fingers worked the buttons down her back and her collar loosened. When he tore his mouth from hers and nipped his way down her neck, she laughed with sheer joy.
Dair captured her lips once again, his hands fisting in her hair, his tongue plunging into her mouth, plundering even as he propelled her backwards until she came up against one of the temple columns. His hands streaked over her, ruthlessly exploring, mercilessly possessing.
He pressed his body against her, and he was as hard as the marble column at her back. She felt soft and malleable like a goose-feather pillow. The pulsing ache within her grew. She wanted to beg him. It had been so long.
He drew back. His gaze was diamond hard and lava hot. “Last chance to run, Emma.”
She sucked in a quick breath. “I’m not running.”
Impossibly, his gaze grew even hotter, but she sensed he drew upon a deep well of control. He took her hand and led her inside the stone structure.
It was a place made for a tryst. Emma’s quick survey spied a basket of fruit, a bottle of wine, and two crystal glasses. Tall candlesticks stood at the ready beside the oversized lounging couch that dominated the space. He’d prepared for her. The man had been sure of himself, and certain of her.
“A glass of wine, Texas?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.
“No, thank you.” Emma shivered.
“Strawberries?”
“I’m fine.”
“I beg to differ. You are more than fine. You are fascinating. Alluring. Enticing. You’ve seduced me, Emma Tate, and it is quite beyond my original intentions.”
The sweet sense of feminine power rushed through her as he turned her to face him. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “So damned beautiful.” Then his mouth captured hers once again, and Emma abandoned all effort to think as she gave herself up to the heady pleasure of simply feeling.
His practiced hands stroked her, caressed her—her face, her neck, her arms. She sensed air upon her skin as her dress fell away. His lips released her mouth and trailed lower, finding the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. Emma couldn’t hold back a purr as she arched away to allow him better access.
At the same time, she wanted her hands on him. She wanted to skim her hands across his bare skin, to know the sensation of corded muscle beneath her palm. To feel the rasp of his chest hair against her naked breasts.
As she lifted her hand to tug at his neck scarf, he scooped her into his arms and carried her the few short steps to the couch. Emma lay back, her eyelids heavy as she watched him shrug from his jacket and yank off his neck scarf. He knelt on one knee above her, reached for her sleeves, and bared her upper body to his heated gaze.
His gaze swept over her, lingered on the swell of her breasts rising above the lace trim of her chemise. He noted the unique front fastening corset her seamstress mother had designed with approval. “Full of surprises, aren’t you, Texas?”
Moments later, he’d bared her completely to the waist. He shifted, straddled her, drawing Emma’s gaze to the prominent bulge at his crotch. Her body responded with a liquid heat that readied her even as she moaned at the first touch of a man’s hand on her bare breast in over a decade. She trembled. She shook, strung tighter than a bow. Oh, she’d missed this.
“Such beautiful jewels.”
“It’s ruby. The pendant is a ruby.”
“I wasn’t referring to your necklace,” he said with amusement. His finger trailed across the swell of her breast. “Your skin is like silk. So soft. Creamy.” His thumb brushed her taut nipple. “I’ll bet you taste as beautiful as you look.”
He leaned down and licked the valley between her breasts. Emma gasped and Dair murmured, “Mmm. I was right.”
Then the man devoted his attentions to her breasts, kneading and squeezing, kissing. The rough surface of his tongue rasped against her nipples as he laved them, one after the other.
Emma twisted her head from side to side, arching her back, offering herself to his tender assault. When finally, he drew her slowly into his mouth and suckled, she moaned softly.
Sensation stole throughout her body. A pulse beat in her womb. Tension increased. More, she wanted more. She clutched his head to her, drowning in pleasure, glorying in the magic Dair MacRae created. She wanted it to last forever; she wanted him to take her to the next level
right now.
Urgently, Emma slid her hands down to the placket on his shirtfront and yanked at his buttons. Dair released her long enough to shrug off his shirt and yank off his undershirt. Emma sighed aloud when the weight of his bare chest came down upon her.
Then, a voice intruded. “Dair?” Jake Kimball called from somewhere beyond a hedge.
Dair appeared deaf to the interruption, blind to all but her as he took her mouth in a kiss that bordered on desperate.
Kimball called again, louder this time. “Miss McBride has come looking for her sister.”
Emma wanted to scream in frustration. Kat. Leave it to Kat. She was so darn tired of Kat interfering in her life.
She placed her hand against Dair’s chest and applied gentle pressure that didn’t budge him a bit. “My sister…”
“Is a pain in the ass,” he muttered.
The sentiment shocked a laugh out of Emma. “If you only knew.”
A long, suspenseful moment passed while he waited, watching her intently, a predator over his prey. Then he rolled them onto their sides, not breaking eye contact with Emma, a finger combing her unbound hair away from her face as he called out, “I owe you one for this, Kimball.”
He gave her one last hard kiss before releasing her and standing. He watched her closely, regret filling his eyes as Emma began to cover herself. He interrupted her efforts when he reached for her pendant. “This looks familiar.”
Annoyed at Kat and momentarily heedless of their mission to Chatham Park, Emma said, “You’ve probably seen my sister’s necklace. Jake Kimball has it.”
Dair nodded. “It’s emerald. But that stone isn’t carved, yours is. It’s the engraving I’m referring to.”
So Kat was right. Kimball
did
have her necklace. “Engraving? I’ve never noticed any engraving.”
He held the pendant in one hand and pointed out the carving with his finger. “It’s easier to see when the stone is nestled between your breasts. I saw it best when both of us had contact with it. Perhaps body heat makes the stone glow.”
Emma was amazed. She’d worn this necklace for over a decade. She couldn’t believe she’d never noticed the marks on the stone before. “It’s writing, but I don’t recognize the language.”
“It’s words and a figure of sorts.” His brow furrowed. “I swear I’ve seen something similar before.”
Kat McBride’s voice called, “Emmaline Suzanne!”
“I’m going to kill her,” Emma muttered.
Dair chuckled, released the ruby, and stepped back. “Another time, Texas. This was interrupted. Not ended.”
He had that right.
Sexual frustration had her jumpy as a cat on ice. A cat with claws ready for a fight. “Damn you, Kat. Couldn’t you just leave me be for a while?”
Emma did her best to put herself to rights before exiting the temple, but she knew she’d failed the moment her sister spied her. Kat’s accusatory stare swept her from head to toe, then her mouth set in a grim smile. “Emma, I need to speak with you.”
Emma didn’t like her sister’s look. How dare she! Who did she think she was? Emma’s conscience? Her bodyguard? The morality sheriff? As if Kat had any room to talk. “It couldn’t wait?”
“It appears to me that I’ve waited too long as it is,” Kat fired back. “We’ve had a message from Monique. I’ll give you one guess as to what our grandmother has done now.”
Monique Day was their grandmother, their mother Jenny’s outrageous mother. Knowing her grandmother’s history, Emma asked, “She’s remarried? Again?”
“To an earl this time! She’s off on another honeymoon trip. Will you come upstairs with me, Emma? Please? We have some decisions to make.”
Emma sighed heavily and muttered, “Family.”
W
ITH A SCOWL ON HIS FACE
, an ache in his loins, and the threat of a headache beginning to gnaw at his brain, Dair watched the women climb the steps and disappear inside Chatham Park. Standing beside him, Jake didn’t appear any happier.
“Will Kat McBride marry you?” Dair asked his friend.
“I don’t know.” Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “The children are a true stumbling block. More so than I’d realized. I’m beginning to wonder if I’d be better off letting her go and choosing one of the others.”
Then he leveled a frown on Dair. “You’re not helping matters. What the hell are you doing with Kat’s sister? You’re supposed to keep her distracted, not seduce her.”
“Actually, I’m not certain who seduced whom,” Dair mused.
“Right. I’m supposed to believe that. You know, this is not what I intended when I asked you to keep her away from Kat. She’s not like your other women, Dair. She’s…nice. She’s like, hell, she reminds me of my sister.”
Dair didn’t see anything the least bit sisterly about Emma Tate. “You have no idea, Jake.”