Mad for the Plaid (29 page)

“Of course nae.” She tugged her wrist free and, impatient to put some space between them, brushed past him. Outside the cave sat the log that she'd used as a hitching post for D'yoval. She sat down on it, and stretched her legs before her, crossing them at the ankles. She was safe here, for there was only room for one person. “I'll admit my mind has been wandering a bit.”

“And your eyes.”

“I'm honored, I suppose, that you've been looking back. That's nae something I'm used to.”

“You should be.” He put his foot on the log beside her and rested his elbow on his knee, so close that his ankle brushed her hip. “To be honest, I've been doing more than mere looking.”

“Oh?” she managed to say, though it was more a sigh than else.

“I've been wondering what your bare skin tastes like. How you'd quiver if I touched you a certain way. How much I'd love to see you naked, lying before me—”

“Goodness, I did nae think to hear all that! I was—I
was nae thinking those sorts of things. I was just wondering what it would be like to . . . touch you. Perhaps kiss you once again. But that's all.”

Nik noted how she bit her lip after her denial, as if worried it had sounded as untruthful as it was. God, but he loved those lips. Plump and full, they flashed smiles like lightning strikes, and issued quips that could cut iron. Never had he met a stronger or more stubborn woman.

When he'd first seen her, he'd thought her merely prickly spirited, unremarkable in all else. The high-waisted gowns that were so in fashion did nothing to reveal Ailsa's beauty, let alone the fire of her spirit. But dressed in formfitting breeches and a shirt that followed the generous curves of her hips and legs, her waist defined by a belt, her full breasts behind the thin muslin of her shirt, she was transformed from a shy dumpling of a woman into a brazen, brave warrior.

She was unique. Unpredictable. Often annoyingly right. And so sensual, she made him ache with want.

She tilted her head back, the sun warming her dark blond braid where it hung over her shoulder, highlighting the bright gold that mingled with other colors—the darker gold of an antique coin, the lighter brown of a brand-new saddle. There were even some strands the color of the peat beneath their feet. The hues mixed together in a delicious silken tangle that begged to be touched.
Bozhy moj
, but he longed to undo her strict braid and sink his hand into that rich mass of hair. He'd tilt her face to his and kiss those soft lips, which she was biting in such a beguiling fashion.

Somehow, he found himself standing before her.

She looked up, caution deepening the color of her eyes.

“You said we should pack our things,
nyet
?” He held out a hand to assist her to her feet. “We will do it together.”

She placed her hand in his.

He pulled her up, careful not to strain his bad shoulder. But as soon as she was standing, he took her place on the log and, in a lightning-quick move, tugged her firmly into his lap. “There,” he said, wrapping his arm about her as he pressed a warm kiss to her temple. “Finally, you are where you belong.”

Chapter 18

“You tricked me.”

“A little.” Nik nuzzled her ear—her hair was scented of lavender and honey. “You've but to say the word and I'll release you.”

She didn't move, her thick lashes resting on the crests of her cheeks. “I'm thinking aboot it.”

“We've been thinking too much, you and I.” He traced his lips from her ear to her neck. She was slightly turned toward him, one hand flat on his bare chest.

“Aye, but”—she shivered as he brushed a kiss over her earlobe—“this is a mistake. I should nae—”

“Ow!”

Her gaze flew to his, a horrified look on her face. “Your shoulder?”

“
Nyet
, my pride.” He sighed. “I'm not used to women questioning everything I say, especially while I'm kissing them.”

Her lips quirked. “It's nae what you're
saying
, but what you're
doing
.”

He slid his hand to her hip and pulled her closer. “I'm only doing what we've both been thinking about
all day.” God, but she had the most delicate neck. It begged for kisses, and he bent to oblige.

She shivered, closing her eyes. “This is . . . verrah pleasant. But . . .” She sighed and pulled away. “Won't this make our situation worse?”

“The situation where we cannot look at one another without imagining doing this?” He slid his hand over her hip to her waist, savoring the way she arched, her breasts pushing toward his chest. “And this?” He cupped his other hand behind her head and covered her mouth with a hard, long kiss.

She opened to him and he slid his tongue between her lips, filling her until she moaned. She gripped his coat lapel, though it was only hanging from his shoulder and did nothing to bring them closer. And yet there was no need, for he was already holding her as tightly as he dared, her full, soft curves delightfully gratifying against his body.

She gasped against his mouth, pulling back as she fought for breath.

He reluctantly stopped the kiss, though his body ached. “I burn for you.” Never had he felt such desire. It crackled along his senses everytime she was near.

She leaned against him, her gray eyes smoky. “You are making it difficult to think.”

“Then don't think at all. Just
do.
We are alone, in the middle of a beautiful forest, and we cannot go anywhere. Why shouldn't we share a kiss or ten?”

Her gaze dropped to where her palm lay flat against his skin. “I suppose it would nae hurt to have a kiss—”

“—or ten,” he insisted.

She laughed softly, her voice husky. “Or ten,” she conceded. “You tempt me.” She leaned up to brush her lips across his cheek. It was feather-soft, like a butterfly's wing on his bare skin.

The innocent touch ignited the fires deep in his soul and with a huge sigh, he gathered her to him and buried his face in her neck, soaking in the lush feel of her, the scent of her skin and hair. “I would have you,
krasavitsa
.”

“And I, you.” She slid her hands down his chest to his stomach and then back up. Seeking, touching, her breath harsh and quick.

Her thick lashes trembled on his cheeks as he bent to taste her lips. Gently at first, but soon he forgot his own attempt at caution as the raging heat that had been simmering under his skin since he'd first met her flared into life. He plundered her mouth, and devoured her ravenously. God, he'd wanted this, wanted it since the first time he'd seen her standing in the window at Castle Leod, proud and intractable.

He tugged at her jacket. “Remove this.”

She pulled off her coat and dropped it, leaving nothing but her thin shirt between him and her breasts. All day, he'd been tormented by those full, round globes, how they pressed against her shirt when she moved, her nipples thrust so wantonly against the thin muslin.

He cupped her breast through the thin material, loving how the mound filled his palms with a gratifying weight. He flicked his thumb over her nipple, bringing it to a peak. She gave a soft cry and arched against him, tilting back her head and closing her eyes.

He flicked her nipple again and again, watching as she gasped and writhed with pleasure. He then bent to press his lips over her puckered nipple, swirling his tongue over the wet material so that it clung to the sensitive nub.

She buried her hands in his hair and pulled him closer, pressing her breast into his mouth until he could take no more.

She is, for this moment,
mine.

The words echoed in his head—
mine, mine, mine.
He couldn't think the word enough.

He lifted his mouth from her breast and trailed kisses up to where her shirt parted at her neck. “Undo your braid,” he whispered against her skin. “I would see your hair loose.”

She lifted her arms, her wet shirt clinging to her breasts as she untied the braid. With hands that shook, she tossed aside the ribbon and began to untwine her braid.

Impatient, he speared his hands into her hair and dragged free the silken strands, spreading them in shiny waves over her shoulders. Mingled golds and browns met his gaze, like the beauty of a field of golden grain lit by the sun and furrowed in rich peaty soil, as pure and perfect as she.

Ailsa barely noticed the weight of her hair on her shoulders. Her body hummed from his touch, and with every breath she took, her nipples scraped the wet muslin of her shirt. Her legs were restless, her heart thudding wildly, her lips tender from his kisses. Desire as she'd never known it flooded through her.

And all she could think was that she wanted more. Needed more.

Now.

She gasped as Nik slid his hands from her hair to frame her face. He kissed her again, filling her mouth with his tongue, tasting and testing. She shed her final lingering doubts and gave herself to the passion between them, kissing him with heated fervor.

Never had she given herself to such wildness, and she reveled in it, in the freedom of releasing her feelings completely.

He moved his warm, seeking lips to her ear, nipping and teasing, leaving a damp trail that his warm breath turned into a torment.

She caught her breath as he nuzzled the crook of her neck, her hands splayed over his broad chest, his skin hot under her fingertips. She slipped her hands across him, threading her fingers through his crisp hair, savoring his rippling muscles as they warmed her palms. She was enthralled, captured, her imagination roaring ahead of her hands.

She wanted more of this. More of him.

And then more. And more again.

It was as if she'd been starved and hadn't realized it. As if deep inside, she'd longed for this but had been afraid to admit it. And now here he was, temptation embodied, and she couldn't kiss him enough, touch him enough,
feel
him enough.

She moaned as his hands ran down her back and then cupped her bottom in a deliciously firm grip.

She swung one leg over his knees and sat facing him, her legs parted over his muscular thighs. She slipped her arm over his good shoulder and pressed against
him, and this time she was the one doing the kissing, the stroking, the touching. And did it, she did.

Nik was enthralled. Just when he thought his passion was at its height, she proved him wrong. He tugged her shirt free of her breeches, sliding his hand underneath, savoring her soft, warm skin. He loved her curves, and the luscious softness filled his hands and made him ache to dive into her.

He ran his hands higher, tugging her shirt up. Finally, he lifted her arms and pulled the shirt free. Enthralled, Nik's gaze locked on her creamy skin, roaming over her soft shoulders, down to the delicate shadows of her dimpled arms, and on to her full breasts. Plump, with large, blush-pink areolas that made his mouth water, they were perfection. And now they were bared to him, moving with her every breath, tempting him beyond thought.

God, he'd never seen a more beautiful sight. He pulled her closer and rubbed his chest against hers, knowing his hair would abrade her delicate nipples to new sensual heights.

She gasped and gripped his arms, throwing her head back and baring her neck for his kisses.

He kissed a heated trail to her ear as he slid a hand over one breast and rolled her nipple under his palm. Gasping wildly, she arched against him, her lips parting as he leaned forward to capture her lips and—

“Nik!”

She'd gone completely still, her eyes wide.

It took all his concentration to regain the ability to think. After a moment, he was able to say in a hoarse voice, “Yes?”

“Did you hear that?” she whispered. “Toward the stream.”

He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, his groin aching with the heat growing between them. “I didn't hear a thing; my blood is thundering in my ears. I—”

She stood, giving him an agonizingly beautiful eye-level view of her breasts.