Page 11 of The Lady's Guide to a Highlander’s Heart
She hardly realized how hard she was squeezing the soap until it flew upward, out of her hands. Hitting the floor again, it skittered away.
Instinctively, Flora stepped forward, only to place her foot upon the bar as it bounced back from the edge of the tub.
The hound, thinking some game was afoot, leapt to its feet and bounded over. Knocked askew, Flora found herself toppled, flying forward over the rim of the copper bath and, with a great splash, landing on the hulking body within it.
* * *
Ragnall barely hadtime to brace himself as she launched through the air. Her knee missed his groin by a mouse’s puff and she knocked the breath from his chest, but it took only a moment for him to recover and appreciate the feel of her. With her clothing sodden, the fullness of her breasts was clearly visible through the clinging cambric of her bodice and she’d parted her legs naturally around his own, affording his thickness a comfortable resting place.
Bringing his hands to her hips, he made soothing noises. “Are ye alright, lass?”
Her lower lip, so full and pink, was trembling. Ripe for kissing. It would be a good place to start. He’d long ago learnt that the best way to unlock a woman’s ardor was to go gently. A teasing sort of seduction usually had the surest results, with the woman herself soon taking charge and showing what it was she wanted. There was never a need for a man to force himself on a woman. Considerate caresses did all the work for him.
As for this one, he’d a feeling there was a strong vein of passion, if he could but persuade her to let him be the recipient.
Next year, he’d seek another alliance, and beget the heir the clan needed. Until then, he could hardly be expected to remain celibate, and the spark in Florrie’s eyes was telling him that she was as drawn to him as he was to her.
A crease furrowing her brow, she was squirming to right herself and succeeding only in dislodging her gown, so that her sleeve dropped low, revealing one smooth, milk-white shoulder. Any more of that and she’d expose her breast completely.
His imagination was already palming its weight, sliding a hand over slippery wet skin, while his other, in the small of her back, drew her close. Her breast would fall within the warmth of his mouth, the taut peak of her nipple a perfect fit between his lips.
His arousal, already swollen hard, leapt at the thought.
“Stop that!”
Her exclamation brought him abruptly to his senses. “Why, lass, I’ve nae begun. Though it will only be a matter of lifting yer skirts to remedy that.”
“Yer “thing”.” She pushed against his chest. “Whatever ye’re doing with it, make it stop.”
A throaty laugh escaped him. “’Tis all yer doing, Florrie. I didnae tell ye tae fling yerself atop me, did I? Ma body is only responding to the feel o’ yers, and the more ye do wriggle, the more the effects are noticeable.”
She fell silent at that, her expression distrustful.
It occurred to him that she’d less experience with a man than he’d guessed at. He’d certainly have to take things slower. He made sure he looked into her eyes and not at the curve of what threatened to burst from her bodice. “Give me a kiss, Florrie, and then I’ll help ye tae yer feet. After that, if ye wish for more, find yer way tae ma chamber this evening. As I said before, I’ll do naught tae harm ye.”
He could see her giving the proposal consideration.
“A single kiss.” Her gaze lowered to his lips and, to his amusement, she worried at her own, running her tongue along their edge.
“Aye.” Ragnall swallowed back a moan as the lass shifted herself, inadvertently rubbing against that part of him that wanted a good deal more.
She eyed him warily again. “And ye swear nae tae grab me.”
“I do. Whatever happens between us shall be at yer instigation, lass.”
Though she continued to frown, she lowered her mouth to his and Ragnall felt the sweet brush of her lips, feather soft. He caught the scent of hay and the clinging fragrance of milk mixed with earthier tones.
Instinctively, he brought his hand to her nape, opening his mouth a little, hoping she would venture her tongue within, then worked his fingers beneath the knotted fabric of her headscarf, wishing to feel the silkiness of her hair.
As the cloth fell away, she gave a cry and drew back suddenly. Opening his eyes, Ragnall blinked at the vision before him. With her flame-red locks cascading wild and her face flushed, she was disarmingly beautiful.
Her looks were the sort a man dreamed of or, rather, it was as if he'd already met her in a dream. There was something familiar in the slant of her mouth and the uplift of her eye, and in that particular hue of red that crowned her.
However, whatever she saw in his face, it gave the lass a fright. Placing her knee full in his stomach, she levered herself up and swung from the bath, sending water sloshing across the floor, her soaked skirts flapping.
Murdo gave a mournful whine as the door banged shut behind her and, sinking back beneath the water, Ragnall sighed deeply. There would be only one remedy for what he needed from Mistress Florrie. He could but hope that her curiosity would bring her to him sooner rather than later—or it wouldn’t be only the haggis swollen to bursting by Hogmany night.
Chapter 6
