Page 29 of Kilty as Sin
As the tremors softened, Grace felt her heartbeat—and her breathing—slow. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, reveling in the feel of his skin pressed against hers. Of herbodypressed against his.
Aye, she wanted more, and she’d tell him that, just as soon as she could form coherent thought.
His fingers slid from her, and she felt almost bereft until he wrapped her in both arms, pulling her close against him.
He said naught, but pressed a kiss to her temple.
More. So much more. He’d shown her pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. Tomorrow he’d return her to Father, and before Father could send for MacGill, she’d run away again.
This time, she’d run right to Barclay.
Yawning, she snuggled closer to him, not minding when he lifted the plaid to wrap her in it once more. She’d tell him. She’d tell him she wanted more. Wantedhim.
Forever.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face.
Chapter 6
Tortures of Hell?Nay, Barclay deserved even worse.
Although what could be worse than the tortures of Hell, he couldn’t quite articulate at this time. Being licked to death by anteaters? Being forced to spend the rest of his life listening to mediocre poetry and having to come up with compliments about it?
Celibacy?
Groaning, he dropped his forehead against his saddle, his Hunter’s helmet dangling from one hand.
He was a worm.
Nay, worse than a worm.
A-aproto-worm. The dirt the worm crawled through. Worm shite—aye, that was it, he was worm shite.
Because last night had been the best of his life.
And today, he was going to betray the woman he suspected he was coming to love.
If someone had asked him a fortnight ago what he might’ve guessed the best night of his life would be, he damned well wouldn’t have guessed “sitting cross-legged on the hard ground, pleasuring a lass with an aching, unfulfilled cock.”
But that had been exactly what happened.
Grace had been so perfect, so trusting. She’d needed what he could give her. What he couldteachher. Christ Almighty, she had been so tempting! He could’ve lifted his kilt and shifted her in his arms, then plunged into her weeping cunny.
But even then, even in the midst of the most intense yearning he’d ever experienced, he’d known how foolish that would be. How much he’d regret it.
Because he had to return her to her father. To herbridegroom.
“Foooook.”
“What was that, Barclay?”
He twisted around so quickly he almost wrenched a muscle in his neck. “Naught!” he blurted, then winced.
St. Pancras’s pinkie finger, she was beautiful in the early morning sunshine! Her golden hair had dried into a riot of curls, her eyes sparkled, and there was a breathless sort of anticipation about her as she smiled up at him.
And now he was going to have to betray her.
He swallowed. “Are ye ready to go, lass?” he rasped.
