Page 64 of The Lass Defied the Laird (Explosive Highlanders 1)

Taran and she encountered each other little and talked even less. She decided to use the lady’s chamber, for sleeping in his bed would weaken the resolve of a glacier. Not to mention she would be all over him. Literally. And this situation needed a solution or the windstorm would keep going.

But it had not been easy. To lay night after night in a lonely bed when the lust-inducing giant lay mere feet from her. Her memories and her wanton body two powerful enemies. Each night a fierce battle to maintain her resolve.

To cool her skin, she ventured outside with a coat. Her breath steamed the breeze as her shoes crunched the new snow. The crisp air filled with the smell of burned logs from the hearths. A sigh escaped her. She lifted her face to the sky as snowflakes fell to create little lakes of freshness on her cheeks. Pure delight on her.

When she lowered her head, her eyes met Taran’s as he returned from the distillery. Their stares clasped together to unleash that tragic chain of reactions. Worsened by the longing which never relented.

Her husband’s tall frame in a tartan with the upper part wrapped around the steel wall of his torso. Her treacherous memory presented her with the feel of them in her hands, on her chest, peppered hair teasing her breasts.

Blast the man!

No. Blast her memory!

He neared her and the green of his eyes gleamed in the cold air, his bristle square jaw ticking on a stone expression. “In need of cooling?” Scorn flooded those irises and stretched his sensual lips.

Her brows pleated. “Do you not think you give too much importance to yourself?” He certainly thought he could do the job better than the snow.

A derogatory grin came to that mouth of his. “Not much, if you consider I am in dire need of it.”

“Thankfully, it is snowing, I reckon.” She crossed her arms in an attempt to keep the effect he had on her at bay.

“A dip in the loch could also help.” The grave drawl caressed her traitorous ears.

Vermillion washed her face at the image her mind produced of him in the water swimming in all his glorious nakedness.

“Fine.” She managed to imprint casualness to it. “You do that. I have to go back to my duties.” Of course, the idea of bathing in the loch stood totally unfeasible, given the weather.

Turning on her heels she started for the manor.

“When, Aileen?” Her name in his deep voice did not facilitate anything.

Her head swivelled to him. “When what?” Not that she had no idea about what he was talking.

“When are you coming back to our… normal routine?” He crossed his taut arms gaze boring into her.

Except their life might be named anything but routine, she considered irritably. Their strong temperaments would eternally ripple their days. Intensely.

“The moment you decide to sort this whole mess out.” She said firmly.

“As far as I am concerned, there is no mess.” But his lips pressed together, his jaw still ticked accompanied of a scowl.

She breathed a humourless laugh. “You never struck me as delusional.”

His smirk had nothing on her. “Neither did you.” Implying her claim he displayed weird attitude came entirely from her imagination.

The pig-headed troglodyte!

As if she was tamping down something so hard it affected the total of the clan.

To avoid his seeing her temper, she walked away without giving an answer.

~.~.~

As she tightened the coat around her, her hips delineated to his eager view. His hands itched with the want of touching her.

It was not only that he missed their… sweltering nights. Problem being it impossible for him to ferret out why the loneliness. It made not an ounce of sense.

Not barely in their chamber. Everywhere. Every minute of the day. Their fierce sparring, the companionship, her tenderness and support whenever he needed it.

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