Page 25 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

He moved his fingers lightly, a gentle caress over the top of her hand. Fiona started trembling more, embarrassed that he could feel her reaction. She could sense the passion surging inside him, could see how he wanted to hold her closer, press his hard strength against her softer curves.

She wanted it, too. Her hands exploring the contours of his broad chest, her lips touching his softly, teasingly before thrusting her tongue into his mouth and stroking it against his.

The boldness of her longings shocked her. Fiona searched his face, seeking to understand how he could have caused such a reaction. But she found no answers in the depths of the earl’s blue eyes. In fact, he looked every bit as puzzled as she felt.

Enough! Fiona rose. “With your permission, my lord, I will retire.”

Though she had asked, as any meek, well-trained subservient female should, Fiona did not wait for his approval. Instead, she tried to sweep past him, but he caught her hand, pulling her to a halt.

Fiona shivered. Lord, what was wrong with her? Was it the venison? The ale? The—

“Gavin.”

“What?”

“My Christian name is Gavin.” His gaze intensified. “Fiona.”

She looked hastily away from the growing passion in his eyes. “Gavin.” His name rolled off her tongue awkwardly. “I bid you good evening.”

’Twas only years of practicing restraint that kept Fiona’s back straight and her steps steady as she exited the great hall. Her maid, Alice, was waiting to greet her when she arrived at her chamber.

“Shall I help you prepare for bed, my lady?”

Alice’s simple, familiar words shocked Fiona out of her trance. Ignoring the hint of trepidation in the older woman’s eyes, Fiona nodded, and then sat silently as the maid performed her usual nighttime duties.

Fiona’s gown and underskirt were removed, replaced by a linen chemise that had seen so many washings it was nearly transparent. Her tightly woven hair was unpinned and unbraided, then brushed until it shined like a glossy veil of gold. Lastly, she washed her face, neck, and arms in a basin of lavender-scented water, then rinsed her mouth from the pitcher of water.

“Shall I stay with you, Lady Fiona, un . . . until he arrives?”

Fiona blanched. She knew her maid was only trying to be helpful, but her fussing made Fiona even more nervous. “I think it best if you leave now. Oh, I forgot to ask. I didn’t see you in the great hall. Did you eat any dinner?”

The maid shook her head. “I couldn’t swallow a bite.”

“I imagine it will take us some time to get used to our new surroundings.”

The maid’s wry expression conveyed how likely she believed that would occur. Fiona couldn’t blame her—everything seemed so very foreign.

A moment later Fiona was alone with her thoughts, sitting rigidly in the chair, her eyes staring at the closed door. Her heart was racing and her hands felt like ice as she gripped the edge of her seat.

She was not feeling scared precisely, but anxious. Very anxious. Not anxious because she was ignorant and unaware of what was going to happen the moment the earl—Gavin—stepped over that threshold.

Quite the opposite. She was anxious because she did know.

Chapter 6

With heavy-lidded eyes, Gavin watched Fiona leave the great hall when the meal ended. ’Twas a struggle to hold the yearning he felt for her tightly in check, but he did. Even as his mind was imagining her clothes being slowly stripped away while his lips kissed the sweet, tender skin as it was revealed.

For the last hour he’d been shifting restlessly in his seat, trying to control his raging desire. His stones were hard and aching, his hands nearly itching to explore and caress Fiona’s luscious flesh. Even with his eyes wide open, visions of their bodies joined so tight that naught could separate them haunted him.

It felt as though his loins tightened every time she cast an eye in his direction. Hell, even watching her chew her meal sent a surprising surge of lust through him. Chewing her food!

Christ’s bones, he’d lost his mind.

He had known beautiful women in his lifetime—had even bedded a few. But this attraction he felt for Fiona was different somehow—it held a power over him that chased his good sense to the bottom of the loch.

He remembered her beauty and feisty spirit the first time he had seen her—and a feeling of surprise at having such a strong reaction to an unknown woman. He also remembered feeling a twinge of disloyalty for having lustful thoughts for the wife of his friend and ally.

“She’s a proud one, our English lady,” Duncan commented, as he refilled Gavin’s tankard.

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