Page 39 of A Plaid Case of Loving Ye
“Yer hair is like silk,” he murmured.
“What do ye mean?” she blurted, her heart thundering at the thought of hurting him.
“I just mean, ‘tis a beautiful color and makes my fingers itch to touch—”
“Nay, I mean, how will I hurt ye?” She twisted around onto her knees and grabbed his hands. “Ramsay, ye must ken I—I care for ye. I would never hurt ye.”
Was that sadness in his gaze? “Ye care for me as a healer cares for her patient, aye, and that makes ye even more dangerous. Because I would care for ye as a man cares for a woman he—he cares for. Och, that makes nae sense.”
She squeezed his hands as she shook her head. “I—Ramsay, please believe me— Ye are—” She couldn’t seem to make her lips form the right words, the words sheneededto say to him. About the way he made her feel. So instead, she blurted, “I’ve been lying to ye.”
His eye widened, and she leaned forward, trying to forestall his response.
“No’ on purpose, please believe me. I didnae want to hurt ye, but I thought it for the best, if I no’ tell ye the truth, and then I came to ken ye, and kenned ye were a good man, and now…” She shrugged and dropped her gaze to his chin. “Ye were right. Icanhurt ye, although I dinnae mean to.”
When he swallowed, she saw the long, tanned column of his throat clench. She wanted to place her lips there, right below his Adam’s apple, and taste him. Would he taste of salt and musk?
He interrupted her musings. “Are ye saying ye think of me as just yer patient?”
What? “I’m saying I’m an Oliphant.” She switched her gaze back up to his. “I’m sorry I didnae tell ye at first, Ramsay, but my da is Laird Oliphant.”
She watched his eye for some sign of recognition, some spark to indicate he remembered why he shouldbeware the Oliphants.
But instead, there was just confusion.
“Oliphant? Ye’re an Oliphant? Why are ye sorry for that? Everything I’ve heard is that they’re a prosperous clan, although yer father’s ultimatum sounds a bit daft.”
She frowned in confusion.
Did he not have reason to suspect the Oliphants? Were they not part of his investigation and hunt for Henry MacDonald?
“So…ye dinnae mind?”
“Ye being an Oliphant?” His smile was crooked, and he pulled one of her hands to his lips. When he brushed a kiss to her fingertip, she shivered, her gaze locked on his mouth.
“I’m sorry I dinnae tell ye,” she managed to croak out.
“I dinnae care who yer clan is, Lady Nicola Oliphant.” He lifted her other hand and kissed those fingertips. “I care about yer loving heart.” He flipped her hand over and brushed a kiss over her palm. “I care aboutye.”
Oh. St. Crystal protect me!Nicola was certain she could feel her heart melting.
Which was, all things considered, medically inopportune. But she didn’t care.
The realization made her heart soar.
“Nicola?” he whispered.
‘Twas as if his prompt cut the ropes holding her back. She launched herself at him, her arms going around his neck, her lips finding his. She knocked him backwards, but he caught them and wrapped his arms around her as they fell against the blanket.
And, saints be praised, he was just as enthusiastic when it came to this kiss as she was.
His lips wereeverywhere, and still she wanted more. Panting, she pulled at his hair, trying to control his mouth, and he chuckled against her skin. One of her legs ended up thrown across his thigh, and she ground herself against him. ‘Twas sweet torture, such hardness against her aching, weeping core.
He groaned, and one of his palms found her breast, then her nipple. The noise she made had no name, but she arched against him, trying to thrust herself even closer. Together they rolled—
And Relic’s cries made them both freeze.
Nicola’s lips were an inch from his, her eyes wide and her heart thumping madly, when she whispered, “Ramsay,tellme we’re no’ currently squishing that bairn.”
