Page 20 of Sweet Home Highlander
“Ye dunnae think a simple handshake would do?” He prowled closer, his eyes raking her figure, still reclined on the bed, elbows pressing into the soft down of the mattress.
Before she could change her mind, she reached for the wrapper’s ties. The silky ribbons slipped undone with a gentle tug, and the wrapper fell open. Niall’s hungry stare went straight to her breasts, the pert peaks straining through the tight bodice of her night rail. The moment it was done, Aisla felt a mixed pulse of thrill and guilt. Guilt that she felt anything at all. Then more guilt, when she realized that the thrill outweighed her guilt by far.
You can do this.
It had always been so easy before, when they’d been younger. All she’d had to do was look at him and he would be leading her into an alcove to shove up her skirts. She hadn’t cared. She’d wanted him just as desperately as he’d wanted her, in any place. In any way.
Digging deep into the well of memory, Aisla sat up a little higher, and walking her fingers down to the hip of her night rail, she began to ruche the linen. The hem rose bit by bit, exposing first her ankle, then her calf. Aisla let go of the fabric, and held out her hand to him. He stared at it, flexing his fingers before tucking them into a fist.
“I ken what ye’re doing,” Niall rasped as his eyes followed the rising hem.
“Afraid to touch me?” she asked, her voice husky. It wasn’t an act—her throat was thick with nerves.
His hand reached forward, brushing the lace edges of her night rail. Aisla bit back a gasp as he leaned over her, eyes shadowed with latent passion and his lips descending toward her bodice. His mouth curled into a devastating smile when he deftly re-tied the silk ribbons with one efficient hand and pulled the knot tight with his teeth.
“Ye’re going to have to try a lot harder than that,leannan. And we’ll seal our agreement with a kiss.”
Without warning, he bent to touch his lips to hers, the brief kiss searing through to her bones before he abruptly pulled away, turned on his heel, and left her chamber without a second glance. Aisla sank back into the bedding, her heart thundering and her breath heaving. One chaste peck, and her entire body felt like it was on fire.
Good Lord, what had she gotten herself into?
Chapter Six
Niall spent the rest of the day down in the cairngorm mines, breathing in silt and dust as he lent a hand improving the rope and pulley system near a newly discovered vein. And yet, no amount of back-breaking labor could erase the sweet taste of his wife’s lips from his. It’d been like putting a lit flame to gunpowder, and now his tortured mind could think of little else.
What had he expected? That time would have tempered the spark between them? That his skin would not remember the silken feel of hers…if only the barest graze of her lips? If anything, he hungered for her with a desire of a man who had tasted heaven, and wanted to again.
And her wager. The sheer boldness of it had nearly unmanned him.
He felt the clench of those words low in his groin, yet again, as he gave the rope a solid pull. The framing for the shaft was sturdy, and he hoped it would guide load after load of cairngorm deposits to the surface of the mine. He tried to keep his mind focused on this new vein’s productivity and potential, but instead, all he could think of was his wife’s startled gasp as he’d kissed her. The look of disappointment when he’d re-tied her wrapper and left.
His self-restraint had been Herculean.
When he’d hatched his one-week-for-each-year plan, he’d waited to see what she would say, whether she would toss her haughty nose into the air or slap the suggestion from his mouth. But no, she’d stunned him. He’d never expectedthatresponse, especially after seeing how riled up she’d been at the news from Stevenson, that shehadto stay put. For a few weeks, his mother had said. He wanted to laugh—nearly a week for every year she’d been away, just as he’d proposed. That was plenty of time to not only seduce his wife and get her to change her mind, but also flaunt everything he’d accomplished here in her absence straight into her face. He would show her that her leaving had meant nothing to any of them.
And now, after Aisla’s bold challenge, his plan for winning Ronan’s wager had turned into a dangerous game. A duel with seduction instead of swords, one that he did not intend to lose. Even against an opponent he no longer knew. Not that Niall was worried about his chances, but with turning Tarbendale into a moneymaking estate, he hadn’t had much time for women. Though seduction was like riding a horse, he supposed. One climbed on and one galloped.
Aisla hadn’t been immune to him…he’d felt the way she’d responded to him, seen the delicate pulse at the base of her throat flutter when he’d leaned over her.Christ, it’d taken every ounce of discipline he possessed not to press his tongue to that throbbing point and lick her velvety skin. Drag his lips down to those two tempting pearls hidden beneath the soft, transparent lawn. His mouth had watered, making him want to tear the fabric from her body and claim what was his.
Whathad beenhis.
Self-disgust curled within him. After all she had done, and despite her betrayal, he still wanted her with a ferocity that stumped him. Hell, he was half hard just from thinking about her, covered in grime and surrounded by his clansmen climbing from the depths of a topaz mine.
“Well done today, lads,” he said as the men packed up and made their way topside. “Ale on me at the tavern.”
A resounding cheer went up at his announcement.
Niall had made it a point to work just as hard as his men did whenever he could visit the mines. It was important for them to see their laird toiling alongside them to make their lands profitable. Though he was also busy spending most of his time managing his accounts and investments, Niall still liked to make the effort to visit the mines. They were the primary source of income for his future, after all. And despite having only one hand to do physical labor with, he worked just as swiftly and diligently as the other men. Faster than he could tally ledgers, too.
He decided to make his way down to the loch for a quick dip before heading to the village tavern with his clansmen. His plaid was filthy, as was every uncovered, sweaty inch of him. At the loch, he removed his boots and outer trappings, and plunged in, fully clothed. He cut through the cold water, feeling the dust and silt wash free from his skin and hair, and dousing both his temper and his longing. He emerged from the water a few minutes later, climbed onto his horse, and rode back up to Tarben Castle to retrieve a clean tartan and a shirt.
“Why did ye no’ say something?” Fenella scowled when he walked past the kitchen, dripping water onto the stones.
Fenella had taken on the role as chatelaine of the keep over the past few years, and Niall had been grateful for her help, particularly when he was busy in the mines. Her father had passed when she’d been but a child, and her mother a handful of years back. With no brothers or sisters, and no marriage prospects that she’d ever deemed acceptable, she would have been on her own. He could not have allowed a friend to be in want of a living or protection, so he’d offered her the position of housekeeper, and they’d settled into a comfortable and convenient routine that had worked well for both of them. Though in the past she’d made several overtures that she would be open to more, their relationship had never progressed beyond friendship.
He blinked, surprised at her caustic tone as she threw her hands onto her hips with a glower. “Something about what?”
“About yer wife’s stay.”
