Page 61 of Deception and Desire
“I have no idea.” She turned her head, and his mouth covered hers, urgent and tender. One hand cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing her temple in slow sensuous circles. The other stroked her neck; his fingers traced her collarbone while his lips massaged hers, grazing one way and then the other. A shiver went through her, the pulsating between her legs increased. His finger dipped to her neckline, pulling at the material and rubbing a calloused pad between her breasts.
Oh, heavens above. She clutched at his arms and returned his kiss. Hesitantly, her tongue met his, and she was rewarded with a deep growl. The rush of his breath against hers made her daring, the knowledge that she could force such a sound from him.
He placed both his hands on her cheeks, and pulled back, kissing her closed kids, her nose and then a final brush of his mouth against her quivering lips. It was as if lightning had struck through her core, and her body ignited. She panted, dragging in gulps of air as his cobalt gaze held her eyes. Lachlan drew in a deep ragged breath and let it out in a loudwoosh.
“Sweet Mary,” he rasped. “I canna get enough of ye.” He sat back and pulled her against him, his arm around her shoulder, his cheek against her hair.
With a sigh, she relaxed into his side. “How long will you be here?”
He shrugged. “I dinna ken. At least six weeks after they return from Manchester. Ian used to come here every couple months and stay for a few weeks. With the trouble ye found in the ledgers, I dinna think we should leave so much responsibility to Colin. The business is growing.”
“So you’ll continue to share the time here with Ian?”
“As it stands, Grandda has agreed to let the arrangement continue.” Lachlan tickled her arm as his finger traced up and down its length. “I should tell ye, he wants me to take his place as chief one day.”
A sudden ache pierced her chest. “What do you want?”
“I’d make a terrible clan chief. Patience is not my best quality, as ye well ken. My younger brother Brodie is better suited.” He let out a long breath. “Grandda is stubborn, but he’s agreed to this compromise. I told him I wouldna sacrifice my life to make him happy.”
“And if he doesn’t accept what is best for his grandsons?”
Silence.
“What would you do instead?”Drat!she silently cursed. Why ask a question she might not want to hear the answer to?
“I’d make my home here and court the bonniest, long-legged accountant in Glasgow.”
Fenella glanced up just as he bent his head and kissed her again. This time his mouth was demanding, claiming hers. He had just confided to her and she should do the same. And then his lips drove all thought from her brain.
Chapter Seventeen
Feeding the Fire
Tuesday, August 17, 1819
Lachlan leaned overthe basin and splashed water on his face and neck.
“How’s the wooing progressing?” asked Sorcha. She shoved a frizzy curl back under her kertch. With hands on hips, her ample chest stuck out, she easily blocked his path. “Are ye keeping the proprieties?”
“Aye, within reason.” He grinned and stepped around her. “What business is it of yers, woman? Are ye the MacNaughton matchmaker now?”
“We’ve just noticed ye’re spending a lot of time at Mrs. Douglas’s house.” Her smirk told him that he’d been the subject of more than one conversation among the clan workers.
“She’s a fine woman and didna want me to be lonely with Colin and Ian both gone from the townhouse.Andshe allows me to bring my hound.” He winked at the older woman. “Now if there are no more questions, I have three gracious women awaiting my presence.” He headed for the door.
“Aye, yer Calum’s grandson for sure. And just in case ye’re wondering, we all approve,” she called after him as he hit the stairs.
“I wasna, but I thank ye for the information,” he yelled over his shoulder. Why did that bit of news lighten his step? But he knew the answer. Lachlan MacNaughton was falling in love.
It was Tuesday and Fenella did not work, so he had time to stop by the townhouse, change clothes, and collect Brownie. When he reached home, low, mournful howls echoed through the halls. It confounded him how the dog always knew he was coming. The poor footman had reported she would begin pacing the entrance hall fifteen minutes before his arrival. Within five minutes, the moaning bays began. He grinned as the footman met him with a pained expression on his long thin face.
“Take heart, Alfred. I could be one of those gentlemen that come and go multiple times a day.”
“Yes, sir.” He bowed then stumbled forward, catching the railing as Brownie bounded to meet her master. “Golden-eyed devil,” he muttered under his breath.
Lachlan chuckled as he took the stairs, the shaggy female on his heels. “Yes, my sweet, ye’re coming with me this time.” He’d thought about taking the deerhound to the mill, but he’d need to train her to avoid the machinery. The constant hum and clamoring of the machines might be a problem, too. Yet, she wasn’t used to being confined and needed exercise.
He pulled on a clean shirt, wrapped the navy kilt around his waist, and buckled the belt. Attaching the sporran, he checked inside for the heather he wanted to give Fenella. He’d talk to her about Brownie. She had a knack for finding solutions to problems.
