Page 103 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

I sat up. “A sleigh ride? Why?”

“Can’t I take you on a sleigh ride in some fresh snow on the day before Christmas Eve without having an ulterior motive?”

“Some men, yes, but you no.”

He swept me off my feet. “Come, my Lady, the chariot awaits. It snowed heavily while we slept last night and this morning.”

“Malcolm! Put me down! What if someone sees us,” I laughed softly, swinging around checking for servants.

“Don’t worry. My mother has them trained, so they appear if you need something, but otherwise, they stay out of the way.”

A knock on the bedroom door had me scrambling out of Malcolm’s arms. He let me go, but not quickly. I tried pushing him away; he responded by smacking my ass. That warmed not only my ass but reminded me of this morning.

“Come in,” Malcolm called, sliding a possessive arm around my shoulders.

“As you requested Your Grace, here are your coats. Fergus has the team pulled around out front.”

“Excellent, Philips. I’ll take those.”

The manservant hesitated. Clearly, he wanted to dress us.

“Tell my mother we’ll be back for tea.” Malcolm took the pile of clothing from him.

“Very good, Your Grace.” Relief lit the pale man’s features as he excused himself.

Malcolm pulled a black coat from the pile. It didn’t have buttons but a belt that tied around the waist. “You need something to keep you warm in our Scottish winters.”

He held it open, so I could slide my arms in. It was like being wrapped in a warm cloud. More cashmere. Damn. A girl could get used to this.

“This is quite a change. You’re actually putting clothes on me.” I glanced up at him from under my lashes.

“Does it help to know that I planned all the ways I wanted to fuck you in my study this morning?” His hands rested on my shoulders as his lips brushed my ear.

I turned to face him, running my hands up his chest. He may be busy running his Dukedom or whatever it was called, but judging from his muscled pecs, he was still working out intensively. Not a surprise really; whatever Malcolm did, he threw himself into it.

“I’m on board with that.” I rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. His lips covered mine. Kissing him was like a drug. I could never get enough. “Your Grace,” I whispered.

He growled appreciatively, then reached inside my coat and pulled me hard against him. “There’s no need to wait.”

I pulled back with a sigh. “There’s a sleigh waiting for us, so yes, we have to wait.”

“The daylight won’t last for much longer.” He added a deep blue and green tartan scarf around my neck.

“Isn’t that yours?” The plaid looked familiar.

“The scarf is yours. The tartan is our family’s.”

“You have your own print?”

“Technically, it’s woven, but yes, that particular tartan belongs to the Murdoch family.” He tucked in the neckline of my coat. “You wear it well.”

Oh fuck. They had a coat of arms, of course they had their own plaid. I mean, what did I expect? He lived in a freaking castle.

Malcolm wore a navy pea coat. He handed me a pair of gloves and a knit hat as we left the house. The rest of the castle was quiet as our footsteps echoed along the marble floor.

“Where’s your mother?” I asked.

“Probably directing some poor servant around. I don’t know where she disappears during the day. Don’t worry, she never misses tea time. And after this morning, the apocalypse wouldn’t keep her away.”

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