Page 16 of Kilty Plea
He darn well didn’t step any farther back, did he?
“Flora…” His voice was choked, but he said naught more, and not for the first time, she desperately wished she could see his expression.
“Please, Payton.” She lifted her hands toward the lump in his kilt, but at the last second—remembering the shock which had flown up her arm at the last touch—settled for placing them on the outside of his thighs. “Please take me with ye to yer home.”
“What?”
As she dragged her hands up the sides of his thighs, his helmeted head dropped back with a groan so she could see his strong throat and jaw by the light of the fire.
“St. Bart’s left testicle, lass…”
This seemed encouraging.
Flora shuffled closer on her knees, until her mouth was only inches from—fromhim. She could lift his kilt and gather his member in her hands. She couldtastehim.
If she wanted.
Och, ye want to, dinnae lie.
Well…shedid. But just because she was trying to seduce him into taking her to MacIntyre land, right? No other reason.
Definitely not a reason having to do with the liquid heat radiating from her core. She pressed her thighs together, swallowed down a whimper at the intense sensation, and peered up at Payton.
“If ye promise to take me to yer home, to MacIntyre landwith ye…I’ll do whatever ye want me to do. Without complaining.”
There. ‘Twas a suitably arousing seduction, aye? An invitation like that, no man could refuse, great googly-moogly!
But Payton just groaned again, lifting one hand to his face—or where his face would be, were it not covered by a steel helmet.
“Payton?”
“Nay, lass.”
Nay?
Flora bit her lip. “Why no’?”
The blasted man actually took a step back, leaving her holding naught but air. “Because ye dinnae want this.”
This wasnothow a seduction was supposed to go, for certes. Shame was beginning to creep over Flora and she felt her cheeks heating—a strange sensation in contrast to the cold against her chest.
“I-I do,” she insisted, even as she tugged her chemise up to cover her breasts.
“Ye dinnae want to touchme.”Payton blew out a breath, then bent down to take her shoulders and gently lift her to her feet. “Ye’re just using me.”
“Aye,” she admitted, distracted as he began to lace up her bodice. “But-but ye could use me in return.”
He said naught, his head bent low as his fingers flew up her gown, tucking her in and ensuring she was nice and warm. Finally, his fingers rested at the top of the bodice, the base of her throat.
Without looking up—mayhap he was staring at his fingers—he said in a deceptively low voice, “Is that the sort of man ye think me to be, Flora?”
Only a fool would miss the anger in his tone, and in that moment, she wasn’t certain what to think anymore.
“Yemarried me!” The wail burst from her lips before she could stop it. “Why would I no’ think that?”
She was shaking now, aye, and mayhap ‘twas because of the cold. But the fear was back, and the anger too. At least with the seduction plan, she’dhada plan, a chance to be in control.
Now?
