To Catch a Highlander (29 page)

She didn't realize she was trying to loosen the tie of her gown until his hands closed over hers.

"Allow me." His voice, deep and rich, brushed over her ears, sending another shiver through her.

He quickly undid the tie and pushed her sodden gown from her greedy skin, leaving her clad only in her wet chemise and stockings.

Dougal discovered that it was possible to lose one's breath at the mere sight of a woman. God, but she was beautiful. The chemise clung to her curves, cupping each breast, molding her flat stomach, sliding along the curve of her hip to the entrancing length of her thighs. Her long hair was half drenched and clung to her neck and shoulders in dark gold tendrils.

But it was her mouth, red and swollen from his kisses, that held him speechless. Full and plump, it glistened moistly, beckoning him, daring him to taste it once more.

And he did. As he slowly rolled her chemise from her drenched body, he kissed her bared skin as it was revealed, inch by inch. She clung to him, her chest rising and falling quickly, her lips parted, her desire growing with his own.

Finally, he knelt before her and removed her stockings, then rocked back on his heels to look at her. The flickering firelight glistened on her damp body, smoothing over her curves, hiding her secrets in the shadows.

He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her gently down to where he knelt. She sank to her knees, joining him on the thick carpet, her breasts brushing his chest. Aflame, Dougal bent to kiss her as his fingers slipped between her thighs.

She gasped, her hands tightening on his shoulders. He slipped an arm behind her and lowered her to the carpet, never breaking their kiss. He pulled back only when he'd parted her thighs and pressed against her.

Awash in desire, he consumed her with his eyes even as he possessed her body. He reveled in the way she threw back her head, how her eyes closed as she moaned his name with each thrust, how she writhed against him in wild abandon.

His release burst from him with a cry, as wild as any storm his temper had ever produced. She cried out then, too, arching against him.

Afterward, with the fire warming their bared skin, he kissed her softly, holding her tight. Though their breathing had settled to a normal rhythm, the air was still heavy with their passion. It was deliciously intimate, holding her naked body to his, her head tucked against his shoulder, her legs twined with his.

A man could get used to this, he thought—then stopped himself. He couldn't afford to care. His temper was dangerous enough as it was. His heart sank as he pushed the bitter thought away.

When a soft knock sounded on the door, Sophia started, but Dougal merely held her tight. "Do not enter," he called. "I am not dressed."

"Yes, my lord." Perkins's dry voice wafted through the door. "Lady Kincaid wished to remind you that dinner is being served momentarily."

"I'll be down shortly."

"Yes, my lord." The butler's steps faded.

Sophia sat upright. "He'll go to my room next!"

"And think that he missed you on your way to the dining room. We'll wait until he's gone, then I'll see you back to your room so you can change and go downstairs. If anyone says anything, tell them you got lost in the house."

"No one will believe that."

"It happens all the time. Lady Durant was once an hour late for that very reason."

Sophia's lips quivered with laughter. "I am sure I will enjoy appearing a fool to your sister."

He kissed her nose. "Come, let's get you to your room before she comes to check on us herself."

After he'd wrapped Sophia in his robe and bundled her off to her room, he discovered that she'd left the deed to MacFarlane House on his floor.

He picked it up and grinned at the soggy paper, soaked from their energetic bath. Shaking his head at the trouble the deed had caused, he laid it out to dry, then dressed for dinner.

Don't let anyone say that men can do more than women. Just imagine how few bairns there'd be if men had to deal with life's true pains!

Old Woman Nora from
Loch Lomond
to her three wee granddaughters one cold evening

For Sophia, dinner passed in a blur. She was uncomfortably aware of her hair, pinned tightly to her head to hide the wet ends. She'd been fortunate that Mary had already left for dinner in the servants' quarters. In her dazed state, she couldn't have outbluffed her maid's gimlet gaze.

And no amount of self-discipline could keep her gaze off Dougal now. He radiated sensuality just by breathing, a fact one of the other guests seemed all too aware of.

There were eight of them at dinner. Besides Fiona and her husband, Jack, there was a judge and his wife, a horse-crazed woman named Miss Stanton who talked of nothing but the ride she'd taken that afternoon, and a handsome gentleman by the name of Sir Reginald Barksdale, who stared at Sophia all evening as if perplexed by something.

It wasn't the unattached female, Miss Stanton, who fawned over Dougal but Mrs. Kent, the judge's wife.

The judge, a rotund, red-faced man with a jolly laugh, was a good twenty years older than his pert and lively wife.

Mrs.
Kent
laughed and talked in an outrageous fashion and blatantly attempted to flirt with Dougal. Her husband, meanwhile, was impervious to everything but the quality of his meal, regarding the whole party with a sort of fond tolerance.

Sophia felt no such charity of feelings. Every time Mrs.
Kent
lifted her big brown eyes to Dougal and smiled at him as if they had a secret, Sophia's blood simmered. Which was ridiculous, of course. She didn't
own
him, for heaven's sake. She'd just
borrowed
him, more or less.

Her gaze met Dougal's across the table, and he raised his wine glass and sipped as if silently toasting her.

Especially because she knew the sharp-eyed Mrs.
Kent
was watching, Sophia couldn't help lifting her own glass and silently saluting Dougal in the same manner. He smiled, while Mrs.
Kent
's fake smile hardened.

Not the sort to cede anything to another woman, Mrs. Kent was soon whispering to Dougal, placing her hand on his arm, and leaning forward so that her breasts pressed precariously against her neckline.

Sophia frowned. Good God, didn't the woman know she was making an absolute fool of herself? She looked like a—

"Miss MacFarlane," came a deep voice to her side.

Sophia turned to find Sir Reginald facing her. He'd been conversing with Miss Stanton about the merits of the various riding paths; now he'd made his escape.

He smiled. "I don't wish to sound impertinent, but have we met before?"

Dougal let out a derisive snort.

She sent him a warning look. "No," she told Sir Reginald. "I've lived a rather secluded life in
Scotland
and haven't traveled in almost twelve years; I doubt we could have met."

"That's odd. I'm certain I've seen you before. It's your eyes; they are quite remarkable." His gray gaze swept over her, a deprecating smile softening his expression. "I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you. We'll talk of other subjects. Have I mentioned that I have a monkey? He's an intelligent pet, and I travel with him everywhere."

As he continued on in this vein, she decided he was a very handsome man. His face was pleasant, his eyes a piercing gray, his chin firm, and his mouth well shaped, though he possessed none of Dougal's raw magnetism.

"I know where we met!" Sir Reginald said suddenly. "In
Vienna
! I was on my tour of the Continent." He frowned. "But it couldn't have been you. That was years ago; you would have been a child then."

"Perhaps you met my mother—she and I look very similar. She and my father traveled quite a bit before I was born."

"That's possible, I suppose," he said, as if not entirely convinced.

"Sir Reginald." Dougal broke in on their conversation, entirely against common etiquette. "Perhaps you mistake Miss MacFarlane with a dream." He let his gaze linger over her in a familiar fashion. "I often do."

Sophia's face burned. Fiona choked on her wine, and Jack patted her back, glaring at Dougal. The judge let out a snort of laughter, while Mrs.
Kent
sent dagger glances at Sophia, and Miss Stanton, oblivious to it all, asked for the salt.

Sophia knew Dougal was merely staking his claim. She was a well-enjoyed conquest to him, but nothing more, and that was exactly how she should think of him, too. Somehow the thought pinched her heart.

When they retreated to the drawing room, Sir Reginald made no move to leave Sophia's side, quizzing her about her life and travels. As Fiona joined them, Dougal shook off the cloying attentions of Mrs.
Kent
and also made his way to Sophia's side.

Sophia saw him approaching, and in an attempt to appear unaffected by his presence, she hurriedly said to Fiona, "That's a lovely necklace."

Fiona brightened, her slender fingers going to the large diamond. "Jack bought it for me when we learned I was expecting. I told him it was too dear, but he was determined."

"May I?" Sir Reginald asked, lifting his quizzing glass.

Fiona smiled. "Of course!" She took off the necklace and handed it to him, saying to Sophia, "Sir Reginald is something of an expert on jewels, especially antiques."

He looked up from the brilliant diamond to say in a self-deprecating fashion, "You're far too generous, Lady Kincaid The term
expert
implies far more effort than I'm willing to impart." He handed the necklace back to Fiona. "It's lovely."

"Thank you." She smiled playfully. "Can you tell me more?" At Sophia's look of query, Fiona added, "It's a game with us. I try to stump him with the various pieces Jack purchases for me. Sir Reginald has yet to miss a guess."

Sir Reginald laughed "Give me time, and I'm certain I'll fail."

Sophia had to smile. While he lacked Dougal's overwhelming masculinity, Sir Reginald seemed to be a nice man.

Fiona touched her necklace. "Well, Sir Reginald? What can you tell me about my new necklace?"

"First of all, it's not new. Judging by the clasp, I'd say it's at least thirty years old." He pursed his lips and added, "I'm not certain, but looking at the workmanship and the set of the diamonds, it's most likely the work of Rundell, Bridge, and Company, of
London
."