Page 43 of Sinful Scottish Laird
She gasped, her body trembling at his touch. Cailean tried to hold himself above the desperate, urgent desire that was ballooning in him, but it was no use. He craved her body, craved the release he would give her, and when she sank against him on a sigh, he craved the release he wanted from her.
He slipped his fingers deeper in between the folds of her body as he caught her face with his hand so that he could look in her eyes, to assure himself he hadn’t gone too far, hadn’t taken this liberty without her consent. There was a prurient shine in her eye, unfocused with passion, a shine of sheer longing. He pushed the skirt of her gown up higher. He could detect the scent of her desire, and like an animal, his mouth watered.
“You don’t esteem me,” she reminded him. “You shouldn’t look at me as if you do.” She sank her fingers into his hair.
“I donna esteem you. No’ in the least,” he agreed.
Her laugh was throaty and hoarse; she pushed on his shoulders, pushing him down. “No, I can see that you don’t,” she said as he went down on one knee at her urging.
She couldn’t have possibly made him more ravenous than he was at that moment. It was incredibly stimulating to the man in him for a lady to know what she wanted and boldly ask it of him. He pushed her gown with both hands above her hips, and put his mouth on her sex.
Daisy gasped again. He slid his tongue into the folds of her sex, and she grabbed his head between her hands, falling over him, moaning loudly as he laved her.
“Uist,lass,” he said. “You donna want help to come running, aye?”
“No, no,”she whispered. But she whimpered as he moved his tongue on her. She clutched at his head, draped one leg over his shoulder, and Cailean’s senses filled with the prurient sensation of her body. He had her at his leisure, deliberately and torturously slow, giving her what she desired. Every slight spasm of her body shot into him like white light, feeding the fire raging in him. His heart, beating wildly, was almost deafening in his ears, and he was torn between the desire to abandon all pretense and take her completely and his real fear of having them discovered—all of it mixing into a volatile swell of pleasure in him when she began to buck against him, desperate to reach her end. He closed his lips around her bud and drew it between his teeth, and Daisy was lost in a spasm of ecstasy, sobbing with her release, and stoking the fire in him to a white-hot pyre.
He was throbbing, aching with his own need now. But he was satisfied in the way of a man who’d given a woman what she had craved from him. He took her arms and lifted her off him to stand. He was grinning like a victorious warrior as he removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his mouth. He bent over her, kissing her cheek. “Who is the good neighbor now,leannan?”
She smiled at him as she brushed the back of her hand against his cheek. “You are undoubtedly the most cocksure man I’ve ever met.”
He laughed, and she slid her arms around his neck and rose up on her toes to kiss him. “Do you esteem me now?” she asked.
“No’ for as much as a moment,” he said and kissed her lips softly before pulling her arms free of his neck. “Now I must go, aye?” He didn’t want to go. He wanted to remain in this ridiculous shed with her all afternoon. But Cailean also knew that if he stayed, if he indulged in the bond they had created, it would be difficult to break free. He tenderly stroked her cheek, then opened the door of the shed.“Feasgar math,”he said and stepped outside.
He walked around the back of the house and started down the grassy lawn to the loch.
He still had to catch his supper.
But he heard Daisy call him, and he paused, glancing back. She was running after him, in her hands a clothbound bundle. “The fish!” she said breathlessly when she caught up to him. “Please, you must take some with you. We have more than we can possibly eat.” She shoved the bundle at him, forcing Cailean to catch it with one hand.
“Thank you,” he said uncertainly.
“Will you come to dine tomorrow?”
He eyed her. “Daisy, I—”
“You are our neighbor,” she said. “Have you been without good neighbors for so long? We have too much fish and need all the help we can summon to eat it. Please say you’ll come.”
He glanced at the bundle in his hand.
“Please?” she asked and touched his arm.
With his body still thrumming with desire, Cailean was incapable of refusing. “All right,” he said. “But only this once. I donna care for so much fish.”
“Ofcourseit’s just once,” she said and laughed. She let go of his arm, turned and dashed across the terrace, pausing at the corner of the house to look back at him. She raised her hand and waved, then disappeared around the corner.
Cailean looked down at the bundle. Somewhere he heard a door close. He felt another door quite deep inside him open a wee bit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Blue skies and a warm breeze met us this morning after yesterday’s dreadful storm. Though it passed quickly as Arrandale said it would, the storm laid down some of my herb seedlings. Uncle said that our next caretaker will need to do without bog myrtle through the winter, but that it might be bought at Balhaire.
B now holds Mr. S in great esteem, and has proclaimed him a right good Christian man. I do wonder if we shall see Mr. S again given the apparent disappointment with which he rode away. At the very least, it would seem I discovered an unconventional use for his little potting shed.
Arrandale’s hands are large and rough with use, but they are quite strong, which he demonstrated without conceit when he lifted the boat from the lake. Mr. S’s hands, by contrast, are fine and slender, and seem better suited for the harp.
DAISYTOOKAlate luncheon with Belinda, who nattered on about her apparently rampant fear that with all the rain they’d had, the roads would be utterly impassable when it came time to return to London.
