Page 68 of The Scot is Hers
“We were both searching,” she said. “For something. Someone to complete us.”
“God, I love ye.” His mouth crashed against hers at the same time a fist crashed against the library door.
“’Tis no’ locked,” she whispered. “Should we escape?”
Alec grinned down at her, the mischief in his eyes mirroring her own heart. What irony that she’d escaped and found him once, and now they would escape again—together.
“Aye. This way.” He gripped her hand, and she shoved her breasts back into her bodice.
They went up the tight circular stair to the library's second level as the pounding on the door continued. She was fairly certain she heard her father’s voice on the other side, followed by her mother’s, demanding to be given entry.
Just as they went through the secret entrance behind the hearth, she heard the door to the library burst open and the sputtering surprise of her father at finding the space empty.
“I could have sworn they went in here,” he said.
“Ye must have seen wrong,” her mother answered, sounding a wee bit condescending.
“Aye, they must have gone somewhere else,” replied the dowager countess, a hint of something mischievous in her tone.
Alec’s mother knew precisely where they’d gone. But she didn’t give them up, and Giselle didn’t wait to hear what happened next.
17
The secret passage opened into Alec’s bedroom. The chamber was starkly masculine, embodying the tones of a wealthy, sophisticated bachelor. The curtains were dark green with gold tiebacks. The bed was massive, the largest Giselle had ever seen, with four thick posts the size of tree trunks and covered in a matching dark green counterpane.
The carpet on the floor was a massive, thick tartan of red, green and white. An oversized leather wingback chair sat before the hearth, singular in its accompaniment, as if the master of this room wanted to send a message that this was his domain not to be shared with anyone else.
Wood furnishings took up space against the walls—a wardrobe, tables, a sideboard, with books on every surface.
“They’ll no’ disturb us here.” He tugged her farther into the room. “Can I get ye a dram? Or a glass of wine?”
Giselle shook her head. “I want ye.” She didn’t want to set aside her time with him to have a drink. She wanted to keep on kissing him. To complete what they’d started before. To finally feel him, all of him.
To be alive with him.
Alec’s face darkened with desire, and he hauled her against him, lowering his mouth to hers. Whereas in the library, their kiss had been desperate, hungry, primal in its need to consume, this kiss was more tender. A promise of what lovemaking with him would be like, what a lifetime with him would be like.
“Are ye certain ye want to do this?” he asked.
“I do no’ want to wait another minute. I do no’ want to ask permission, or wait for the answer. I’ve been running from what others required of me my entire life. And now that I’ve found ye, nearly lost ye, I do no’ want to waste another minute trying to figure out what is right and wrong, acceptable or no’, when I know in my heart this is as it should be. Ye and me. I love ye, Alec.”
“I love ye, too, sweet Giselle. I only ever want to make ye happy.”
Giselle curled her fingers into his hair. “Then make me yours.”
Alec lifted her into the air, taking her to his bed, where he laid her gently upon the mattress. He came down beside her, kissing her gently and whispering how beautiful she was. His bare knee brushed hers where her gown had crept up toward her thigh, and she gasped at the delicious sensation of skin on skin. He placed his hand on her his, the heat of his palms searing through her dress.
Pinching the ribbon that held her hair in place, he pulled until the mass of curls that had been contained were free, and he spread them out on his pillow.
“When I saw ye this morning with your hair like this, I wished only to see it on my pillow,” he murmured.
“It is wild.” A point she was often self-conscious about.
“Like ye.” He winked, and her heart swelled. “Just the way I adore ye.”
He curled a tendril around his finger and brought it to his nose, breathing in deep before rubbing the length on his cheek. “So soft. Everything about ye is silky, tempting.”
Giselle smiled up at him, her eyes taking in the blue green of his gaze. “Ye are a verra handsome and kind.”
