Page 41 of Bride of the Mad Laird
“Claray took advantage of yer absence in the training yard tae see tae cleaning yer kilt,” she said primly.
“I’m much obliged.”
“I’ve sponged it, in the same way I was taught tae clean the woolen robes of the nuns at the Priory. Only yer kilt is ten times the size of what a nun would wear.” She clicked her tongue disapprovingly.
She had somehow gathered herself and was looking utterly unfazed by his nakedness.
So, that was how she was playing this scene. Refusing to succumb to embarrassment. He couldn’t help but admire her composure, even as he did his best to provoke and unsettle her.
He stepped forward and claimed the long length of fabric from the chair, wrapping himself quickly to hide the unruly action of his shaft before it sprang fully erect. His thoughts flew in the direction of both himself and Lyra, naked on his bed, her light curls cascading over the pillow, her plump breasts… He tried and failed to shake the image from his head.
“Now, little convent lass, please dinnae tell me ye’ve nae seen a naked lad afore.”
He reached for the recently discarded britches and pulled them on, tossing aside the length of plaid.
She huffed indignantly. “How dare ye. Of course, I’ve nae seen a lad wi’out his clothes. Why, as ye ken I’ve been leading a chaste life at the Priory on Iona.”
“Well, in case ye have forgotten the time when we were caught in the storm, I can refresh yer memory of already seein’ me naked. I was soaked to the skin and to save meself from a death from cold, I pulled off me shirt and unbelted me kilt and stood before ye in only me boots.” He couldn’t contain a wicked grin. “I can assure ye, yer gaze burned every inch of me with a heated fire that day.”
Her eyes were lit with outrage, yet she still did not turn away.
He covered his desire and the wildness in his blood with wry humor, teasing her because he wanted her aroused and blazing. The blood roared in his temples. She was glorious, her head high, her hair tumbling in fragrant waves over her shoulders, her emerald eyes on fire.
He pushed, again, to see if she would break under his taunts.
“If I didnae ken better, I’d almost consider ye liked what ye saw of me.”
That was the moment he saw her temper snap. She flung herself around and stalked toward the door.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
He was too fast. With two strides he was beside her, seizing her wrist, turning her to him so that she could feel his heart beating against her chest. His musky scent of leather and soap flooded her senses.
The air between them thickened as he held her for brief seconds, pressing her to his bare chest so that she registered the rise and fall of his breathing, heavy and short. She longed to run her shaking fingers over that hard, muscular body, to feel if the dark hair growing there was soft or coarse.
His lips were so close it would take only a slight movement, if she were to stand on tiptoe, to raise her head and claim his mouth.
Eilidh’s words rang in her mind.
Am I falling in love?
That was a puzzle still to be solved.
But oh, how badly she wanted his kiss.
Closing her eyes she swayed against him, breathing in his scent, imagining how his lips would taste. A hint of whisky? Would his lips be soft and mold to hers, or hard and fierce?
She found a tiny bubble of wildness beating in her pulse and she reached a hand to touch his arm and trawled her fingers across his chest.
“D’ye nae ken what ye dae tae me, Lyra?” His voice was a growl emanating from somewhere deep in his throat. “Ye’re naught but a torment that turns me inside out and upside down.”
She laughed softly. “What dae I dae tae ye, Laird Tòrr? What is it that torments ye so?”
“Ah lass. Ye’re an innocent who daesnae ken how ye can make a lad feel when ye touch his hand, when ye brush his leg, when ye stand close enough fer him tae breathe in the scent of ye.” He sighed, a long deep, heartfelt sound. “And when ye ask a man tae stay beside ye while ye sleep, all warm and soft in the bed beside him, when all he wants is tae lie wi’ ye. All that can send a lad wild wi’ wanting.”
Reaching up, she brushed her finger slowly over his lower lip, her breath hitching in her throat, so desperate was she at that moment for his kiss.
He moaned, wrapping her in his arms so that she could feel the hardness in his britches against her. “Ye’ll drive me mad, lass.”
