Page 59 of Kilted Seduction
Lachlan smiled thinly. “A fight is a fight, Laird Cameron, and any contest is tae be taken seriously, nae matter what the stakes. Practice bout or proper duel, a true man fights tae win and uses whatever tactics he must tae secure the victory.”
Aedan scowled, but he said nothing else. He simply rose, handed his blunted blade to the overseer of the match and bowed politely, but Thora could see he was hardly keeping himself from jumping the laird. “I thank ye fer the match and fer yer instruction. Now, if ye dinnae mind, ‘tis best I see tae me wife. She looks a wee bit worried, and I suspect she doesnae understand how ‘real’ men are meant tae fight their friendly duels.”
His voice was tight, almost dripping with sarcasm, but his expression was polite enough. Lachlan waved them off, and Aedan made his way to Thora’s side.
“That was far too serious fer a practice fight.” Mac’s voice was low and grim. “And I didnae like the way those blows hit home. Ye should see a healer, especially that strike tae yer knee and ribs.”
“Aye. I’d nae find some bruise salve and muscle liniment amiss.” Aedan grimaced. “But I didnae like the words he spoke.”
Thora knew exactly what he meant. There was no mistaking the threat, or the veiled warning, in Lachlan Ross’s tones. He might suspect their falsehoods, or he might not, but either way, he was planning something. Something as sinister and underhanded as the tactics he’d used in the duel, and possibly far more deadly.
Thora only wished her Gift would give her some insight into what that plan might be - or better still, some idea of how to thwart it.
Candle-marks later, Aedan stood at the door to the library. It was only a few doors down from their rooms, and he’d accompanied Thora there. She’d expressed a desire to do some reading, and he hadn’t had the will to deny her.
His pride was still stinging from the defeat he’d suffered before, a defeat he was reminded of every time he moved and put pressure on his heavily bruised ribs, or his injured knee. The healer had assured him nothing was broken, but her assurances did nothing for the sting of embarrassment he felt when he recalled being pinned under Lachlan’s boot.
In a proper battle, he would have called it good tactics to fight as Lachlan had. In fact, he’d used similar attacks on the battlefield to great effect and he wouldn’t have ended up under laird Ross’ boot at all. But this should have been a friendly duel, not a placefor dirty tricks and low blows. He wasn’t sure which bothered him more, that Lachlan had resorted to such tactics, uncaring of the audience, or that he hadn’t been skilled enough to prevail despite Lachlan’s underhanded actions.
Or perhaps it was the words Lachlan had spoken. The edge of malice, too soft for any save himself to hear properly. A statement of personal philosophy on the surface, but far more foreboding to Aedan and his people. And Thora.
Perhaps he was overthinking it. Perhaps it only sounded threatening because he was in a vulnerable position where hecouldbe threatened. Or maybe the unease he felt was guilt instead, guilt at his own falsehoods.
Either way, it left him restless and in no mood to stand in one place, brooding. He needed to be doing something, anything. Perhaps Thora might have some idea of what actions they should take next. He still didn’t trust her Gift blindly, but he was willing to listen to any insight she was willing to offer.
He ventured deeper into the library and found her sitting in a chair next to the fire, her shoes discarded on the thick fur rug beneath her feet. She looked utterly relaxed, curled into the chair with her feet up and her hair bound back, save for the small locks that escaped to frame her face. Her expression was focused, but content, and the sight of it made something tighten in Aedan’s gut.
She was so beautiful. He’d never met a woman who could heat his blood and spark his desire as easily as she could. It wasbecoming increasingly difficult to contemplate the day their bond ended - even more so to think of letting Thora go.
He moved closer on silent footsteps, and smiled as an idea came to him. Before she could hear or see him coming, he slipped up behind her and laid his hands over her eyes. Thora froze, and Aedan bent to whisper in her ear. “Can ye guess who I am?”
“Aedan…”
He laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple, before sliding his hands down to her shoulders, then to wrap around her chest. “Good guess.”
“What are ye doin’? I thought ye were keepin’ watch.”
“I was. But there’s little enough tae watch fer. And I found something far more important tae look at.” He leaned closer to inhale the floral scent of her hair. “Ye.” He nuzzled gently against the side of her cheek.
Thora’s breath caught, and she felt the spreading heat of her blush on his face. “Aedan…”
“Aye?” He slid his hand down to stroke her stomach and was rewarded with a swift intake of breath and a shiver.
“Aedan… we’re…”
“In a library, where few folk ever come, especially in the midst o’ holy day celebrations. Most are either sleeping or enjoying some time tae recover from too much ale and mead. Or wine.” Aedan pressed a kiss to Thora’s throat and felt her shiver again. “We’ve the place tae ourselves, and as much time as we need.”
He let one hand slide lower, to the v of her thighs, and the other higher, to cup the swell of her breast. “Tell me ye dinnae want me, and I’ll stop.”
“Aedan… we cannae…”
“That’s nae sayin’ ye dinnae want me, lass.” Another kiss, this time with a flick of his tongue and a slight scrape of teeth. Thora made a soft needy sound, like a half-smothered whisper.
“Are ye afraid o’ discovery? Or something else?”
“I…” Thora’s words faded into a breathless moan as he slid his hand an inch lower to stroke her sex through the fabric of her dress. “What are ye…?”
“Ye should be able tae guess.” He rolled her still covered nipple in his fingers, while at the same time adding light pressure and a caress of his other hand, and Thora arched against his touch. “I’m seducin’ ye.”
