Page 121 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“It’s the dialect around here,” he said. “I’m still learning it, good Edinburgh lad as I am. I said you only get out of life what you put in, one of Brianag’s homilies. And there’s always ‘muckle wad aye hae mair.’ Those who have a lot always want more. I hear that one a great deal.”
“Say something else,” she said, smiling.
“I could speak the Gaelic, but I’ll tell you things I learned in Edinburgh,” he said. “I was a precocious youngster.”
“I can imagine the girls discovered you early,” she said.
Would he have noticed her if she had grown up in Edinburgh with him? Would they have been fast friends? Would she have believed in him? She thought the answer was yes to all those questions.
“I learned, too, ‘Never marry for money. You can borrow it cheaper.’ ”
“Wise advice,” she said as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
She should stop him now. They should be reasonable about this. They shouldn’t be kissing, especially when he had a teasing look in his eye.
She placed her hands on either side of his face. “Macrath,” she said. Just his name, but it was warning enough.
He placed his hands atop hers and smiled down at her.
At that moment she knew she was lost.
“ ‘They talk of my drinking but never my thirst.’ ”
Like she thirsted for him? No, she wouldn’t say such a thing aloud.
“ ‘Be slow in choosing a friend, but slower in changing him,’ ” he said, unfastening the top button of her bodice.
She slapped his hand. “Macrath Sinclair, we’re in the middle of the woods.”
“Ah, but we’re in the middle of the woods alone,” he said. “ ‘Fools look to tomorrow. Wise men use today.’ ”
“Still, is it entirely proper?”
He tipped his head back and laughed.
She was too aware of him, each separate nerve and muscle attuned to his presence. Her skin was tight. Her heart beat so rapidly it felt like a drum inside her chest. Her palms dampened while her mouth was too dry. She wanted to weep while she danced for joy, and wasn’t that ridiculous?
She was going to catch fire if he kept looking at her. He crooked a finger and she leaned toward him, surrendering her mouth to his. He kissed her slowly. Extending his tongue, he touched the tip of hers then withdrew, teasing her, taking her breath and causing her heart to race.
The warmth inside her suddenly swelled, becoming a tide of need.
“ ‘Willful waste makes woeful want.’ ”
“We shouldn’t be wasteful,” she said, barely able to speak.
A noise startled her. She froze, her hands on his shoulders. “What was that?”
“A fox or badger,” he said, trailing kisses down her throat.
She pulled back. It wasn’t a fox or a badger. Instead, it had sounded like footsteps on leaves.
She pressed her hand against his chest.
“Would you like me to go see?” he asked. “Just to reassure you?”
She nodded. “It’s probably not necessary,” she said, feeling foolish.
He smoothed his knuckles over her cheek. “I don’t want you worried,” he said.
