Page 33 of Taming the Scot
That was an extremely deep question, which she’d not been expecting. “My biggest dream? I do no’ think anyone has ever asked me that. And to be quite honest, I do no’ think I had one. We are all born into our worlds and things expected of us. I suppose I never had time to think of anything different.” Nor the luxury, but she kept that part to herself.
“I can relate to that.” His expression grew serious. “I always knew that one day I’d be Laird of Drum as my da was, and perhaps even Chief of the Irvine clan, inheriting the barony, which until recently was held by my grandfather.”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your grandfather. Who holds it now?”
“There is some question as to whether it will be my cousin or me.” He shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal, so she didn’t pry.
Bronwen could understand holding some things inside. “Did ye ever dream of being a soldier?”
“Aye. Every Highlander dreams of the honor of fighting for their country.” Owen took that moment to bounce toward him with his stiff gait that longed to be spryer. Euan picked up a stick and tossed it to him.
“I think what I longed for most was the feeling of joy without the worry of that bubble inexplicably being popped.” The words slipped out unbidden in the morning breeze. Despite having revealed something considerably intimate about herself, Bronwen managed to keep her features deceptively composed.
Euan glanced down at her, and when she met his gaze, she didn’t feel judgment or pity there, rather an understanding. She was keenly aware of how he studied her.
“I see we both had that same thought,” he finally said, pausing his steps to face her fully.
She offered him a small, shy smile. “I’m still searching.”
There was a glimmer of some indefinable emotion in his gaze, and Bronwen wished desperately to know just what it meant.
“I think I am too on most days,” he pondered. “Though I must say since your arrival, the searching has been more and more fleeting.”
She masked her inner turmoil at his confession but pounced on the one thing that would ease the palpable emotional tension between them. “Ah-ha! Ye snuck in the flattery lesson. Well done.”
“I was being truthful.”
Owen returned with the slobbery stick, offering it to his master for another throw.
Bronwen laughed, pretending he was not being serious. “Ye’re quite the tease, Captain.”
He reached out then, touching her elbow gently, and then his fingers slid down her arm to her wrist before reaching her hand, where he grasped her tenderly. Bronwen’s heart skittered to a stop, as did her breath.
“I’m verra serious.” His gaze on her was intense, and as staid as they came, his tone thick and unwavering. A shiver of awareness skipped down her spine. “I want to thank ye for that gift, Miss Holmes. For having a few moments where the weight of my world did no’ feel as if it was pushing me into the ground.”
My goodness. But her tongue felt twisted, and she was at a loss for any words that might be remotely coherent. At last, she managed to remember the essence of language. “Well, then I suppose I ought to thank ye too for the verra same thing. Being here,” she glanced back at the castle, “with ye and your family has been a reprieve, believe it or no’.” She laughed, a little nervous at how much she’d revealed and how much she’d learned. What did it all mean? “Ye might find your sisters troublesome, but I find them to be a delight.”
“Give it another week,” he teased, breaking the tension for a moment.
If only she could give it a lifetime.
Her skin flushed at that thought. She stared toward the ground to hide her face, her emotion. There was no way she could allow herself to continue these sorts of ridiculous, fanciful contemplations. This was not a life she’d ever have, and the people here were only a fleeting, passing moment in the span of her existence.
Euan pressed a finger to her chin, gradually guiding her face back up, revealing the blush she was certain still stained her cheeks. Blue eyes probed hers. And suddenly, she was back in the drawing room when his sister had caught them about to kiss. The softest brush of his lips had been about to be hers…and then nothing. But right now, gazing deeply within his soul, she wanted to melt into him.
“This is the part where I beg ye to let me kiss ye,” he murmured, eyes growing hooded, his voice sensual and alluring.
“What?” The question barely escaped her mouth. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it too, but there still seemed to be some thread within her that was not a lunatic and wanted to question what he was thinking and what she was contemplating in return.
“I know it’s against the rules,” he said, his fingers trailing over her jawline, “and that I’ll get failing marks for asking, but dammit, Bronwen Holmes, I’ve been wanting to kiss ye for days.”
This was the man she’d been warned about, even by his own tongue. The charmer. The seducer. The man who had many lovers and took pride in the sport of his conquests. But that was not all she knew him to be. Oh, nay, she knew so much more. Perhaps more than most. Especially what he’d confessed to her here and now.
And she wanted to kiss him too. Wanted to feel the slide of his mouth on hers, the heat of his muscled body pressed to chest, her hips. If only she could say aye, if only she could—
But apparently, she’d not said “nay” soon enough, for his face was descending toward hers. His lids were shuttering over his startling blue eyes, the fan of his lashes touching his cheeks. No words escaped her. And her feet remained rooted in place. Her treacherous fingers curled into the lapel of his jacket as she leaned forward, her own eyes dipping closed. Wanting this kiss as much as she needed her next breath of air.
The blissful heat of his lips pressed to her mouth, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The thing she’d been longing for but denied herself even the sliver of a thought... Bronwen sighed against him as he slid his lips back and forth. Then the light, heated touch of his tongue slipped into her mouth to tangle with hers, and Bronwen thought she might float away or drop from no longer being able to hold herself upright. Either way, she was done for.
