Page 44 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“I’ll be wondering why you came to me on a stormy day. Why you stayed until the weather was fair. Why I know, even as you sit here, that you’re planning to leave again.”
She reached out and touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers.
“What would you say if I told you that I came all this way for what happened last night?”
A comment that was too close to the truth.
“Or a kiss?” he asked. He bent his head down as he spoke, his voice a little rough, accented Scottish. Her breath hitched at the sound of it, at the feel of his breath against her temple.
He kissed his way to her lips, hovered over them.
“A memory I might be able to summon any moment of any day.”
He kissed her softly, gently, his lips barely there. Suddenly, he clasped his hands behind her head, keeping her prisoner as he deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling, heat erupting between them.
She felt like her clothes might melt.
“I’ve never been able to forget you,” she said long minutes later, when the kiss was done. How would he respond to that confession?
He didn’t say anything, merely took her hand and kissed the tip of each finger.
“While I sat and brooded,” he said.
She smiled gently at him. “I doubt you brooded all that much. Ceana said that you’ve been very successful. People crave your attention all over the world.”
“It was easier to travel,” he said, “then sit and remember you.”
Perhaps this wasn’t the best topic. When she returned to London, she would not be able to easily forget this interlude. That’s all it was. For now, however, she didn’t want to waste one moment.
She slipped off the rock sill and stood in front of him.
“Did you ever think of taking me here?” she asked, wondering at her own daring. The girl she’d been, the woman she was, would never have considered saying such a thing. But for now, Virginia the mouse had become someone else, a shocking woman with an edge of desperation.
Not because she needed a child, but because she needed him.
His smile faded, his look growing even more intense, as if he were judging the limits of her courage.
Slowly, his hands reached out and gripped her shoulders, pulling her toward him. Before she could ask what he was about, he’d lifted her. Then she was on his lap, her knees on either side of his legs. Such a position opened her, made a mockery of any hint of modesty in her pantaloons.
She gripped his shoulders as he moved back, bracing himself with both arms.
“Never dare a Scotsman,” he said.
Chapter 12
Her hands clutched his shoulders; her whole body bending toward him. One of his hands twisted in her hair. He thrust the other beneath her skirt.
He smiled at her look of surprise, watched as her eyes changed, turning soft. He leaned forward and kissed her, sinking against Virginia’s lips with a feeling of coming home.
Somehow, he had to convince her to remain with him. Life at Drumvagen would not be the same without her. He could promise her the world. He didn’t remain in Scotland year-round. She could travel with him. He was due in Australia in a few months, and she would enjoy the voyage. She would be at his side, someone who could listen to his thoughts, who could reason with him, someone who would believe in him.
He had to convince her to stay.
He held his hand over hers, conscious of the delicacy of her fingers. She had nearly unmanned him last night with this delicate hand. She had clenched him to her, had held him between her palms, had expressed such genuine delight he’d wanted to take her again and again until the newness of his conquest had worn off. Except, after their loving at dawn, he realized it wasn’t the novelty of Virginia ensnaring him, but her smile, the sparkle in her eyes and the tenderness of her touch.
She was the woman he’d loved for more than a year and thought lost to him.
The day could not be more wonderful. But it wasn’t the sparkle in the air after the storm or the blue, cloudless skies. Even if snow had fallen, followed by a monsoon, he would never feel this day was anything but miraculous.
