Page 44 of Kilty Plea
Payton was used to flinches, used to people winces and looking away from him…but not fromher. She hadn’t, not once.
And he wasn’t certain why that was important, but itwas.
He stood there, in the center of the room, listening to her sniffles, and feeling useless. Useless and helpless, and not certain he should even be here.
Flora had her arms wrapped around her middle, her shoulders hunched. She stood beside the bed, her back to him.
She’d heard what the Abbot had said, obviously. ‘Twas terrible timing, for the man to say such hateful things in her hearing.
“Flora?” he whispered yet again, begging her to speak to him.
She sniffed. “Why—” When her voice cracked, she swallowed and tried again. “Why did ye no’ fook me last night, Payton? Why have ye no’ yet—” A sob interrupted her.
Suddenly wide-eyed, Payton stared at her back.
What?
That hadn’t been what he’d expected her to ask, not at all. Wasthatwhy she was crying?
She was waiting for an answer, and he wasn’t certain he could give her one. Not without baring his soul.
“Because,” he finally admitted. “I didnaewantto fook ye.”
With a gasp, Flora whirled around, her hazel glare half-hurt, half-murderous. Payton’s lips twitched ruefully, and he shrugged.
“Iwantto make love to ye, lass,” he said quietly. “Can ye no’ understand the difference?”
Her anger had turned to a wide-eyed look of wonder, and when he asked that, she stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding.
“I—” Flora began, before being cut off by another sob.
Payton held his arms out to her, praying she’d accept his comfort—accepthim. With another sob, she flew to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his chest.
She cried, but not for as long as he thought she might. Och, aye, she soaked the front of his shirt, and he resisted the urge to tease her, the same he’d teased her about drooling on him. Payton stroked her back, and occasionally pressed kisses to the top of her head, and just willed her to take his strength.
At long last, she sniffed. In a muffled voice, she asked, “Fine. Why did ye no’make loveto me last night?”
Payton snorted. “I wanted to.”
“Ye didnae.”
“Och, I did, lass.Trustme.”
She pulled away to frown up at him. “Then why…?”
Why didn’t he?
With a sigh, Payton pulled her toward the room’s single chair. The bed was closer, and likely more comfortable, but this conversation wasn’t the kind he needed to have on the bed. Or anywhere near the bed.
Not if he wanted to get through it without kissing her again.
But he wasn’t going to survive without touching her, so when he sat, he pulled her into his lap. Just like atop the horse, only this time she could turn toward him and wrap her arms around his neck.
“Last night, Flora…” he began, then trailed off, because he wasn’t certain how to finish that thought. He tried again. “Last night, ye were obligated. I brought ye pleasure, aye?” he asked gently.
St. Bart’s left elbow, heknewhe’d brought her pleasure. If he closed his eyes, he’d still be able totastethat pleasure, remember the way she’d felt, squeezing him…
She was staring at his chin. “Nae man has ever cared about my pleasure,” she admitted in a whisper.
