Page 50 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
But she wasn’t going to marry him, wasn’t going to sleep with him, they were just . . . touching.
“Open your eyes,” he whispered huskily.
She did so, and in the moonlight, she watched in awe as he slid her chemise down, baring her breasts, which seemed presented to him by the up-thrust of her stays. She should be embarrassed—but she wasn’t. She felt both proud and humble, to affect him, to know how they could make each other feel. Her nipples tightened into points as an evening breeze caressed her.
“My God,” he breathed.
Instead of touching her with his fingers, as she’d been silently begging, he leaned forward and touched her with his tongue, a lick across her nipple which made her skin come alive with overwhelming pleasure. She moaned and clutched him to her, and to her astonishment, he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. Gasping, she arched her body, desperate for him to do more.
Then they heard voices at the entrance of the cave.
They both froze. Oh, God, she would never be able to face the men again. They’d think she was a—
“They cannot see us,” Duncan whispered. “Just hold still.”
“I can’t. When you do—that, my body no longer seems my own.”
He inhaled deeply, then said her name with a reverence that surprised her. She was afraid to move, utterly bare to him, even as his men were talking. Then their voices stopped.
“Where are they?” she whispered.
Duncan placed a kiss between her breasts. “The guards changed. One went back inside and the new guard went to the paddock. We’re alone now.”
And sinner that she was, she wanted him to touch her again. For a long silent moment, neither of them moved or spoke. Her hands were still on his shoulders, and seemingly without her volition, she slid them into the hair at his neck.
With a heavy sigh he rose to his feet. Pressing his cheek to hers, he whispered, “Everything in me cries out for ye, lass. But I—we—cannot.”
She nodded, turning away from him to draw her chemise and gown back in place. Her fingers were trembling as she tightened the laces and rearranged the stomacher. When she was done, she was afraid to face him, but he pulled her against him and rested his cheek against her hair. All the reasons why she couldn’t have this life were crowding around her, making her feel embarrassed and ashamed and sad.
But she put her hands on his arms and they stood there in the moonlight.
“Duncan,” she said quietly.
“Hmm?”
The sound of him vibrated against her back, and it seemed almost as intimate as his mouth upon her skin.
“If you were only smuggling your own whisky, I don’t believe you would have hidden it from me.”
She thought he tensed behind her.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
After a long moment when she thought he would ignore her once again, he said, “Aye.”
“So you’re stealing whisky, smuggling it, and sharing the profits with your people.”
“Aye, and I’m not ashamed of it. We steal it from the nobleman who supports the sheriff and magistrates in their evil deeds, the man who allowed me to be outlawed rather than end the theft of children. So indirectly, he also finances my men and our search to stop him.”
“That makes sense to me,” she said. “Thank you for explaining it, even though you didn’t have to.”
He rubbed his cheek slowly against her hair. “What he and the sheriff have done to my clan and to innocent children has to be punished somehow. Right now this is the only means I have.”
“Who buys the whisky?”
“Lowlanders, and some is smuggled south by sea. We don’t harm the nobleman’s men—we steal their horses and tie them up, so their return home is delayed.”
“Aren’t the casks marked?”
