Page 57 of The Scot Who Loved Her

“Please.”

As his fingers stroked her heated flesh, his mouth returned to hers, capturing her with wicked, possessive intent. Olivia clung to him, certain that she was never going to be the same after this carnal kiss. And then she couldn’t think anymore, only feel as he caressed and dipped his fingers inside her until her body was breaking apart in rapture.

As the waves subsided, and she could finally breathe again, she opened her eyes to see such passion on Malcolm’s face that it made her nearly come undone again.

“I need to leave,” he said. “Right now.”

“Oh.” She was surprised and a little hurt. “All right.”

She started to shift, but he held her in place.

“If I do no’ leave right now, I’ will strip ye bare and make love to ye until the sun comes up.”

This time when Olivia said, “Oh,” there was understanding behind it and desire. She wanted him to make love to her until the sun came up.

But she was also aware that if they did so, her father would likely shoot Malcolm in the morning.

And two Astons shooting the man might be a bit much.

“I want to,” she paused, licking her lips. “I want to give you the gift you gave me.”

Malcolm grinned, desire clouding his eyes. “Next time, lass. I’ve already risked too much coming here. I just…I needed to see ye, talk to ye.”

“And here we’ve wasted the time kissing.”

“I do no’ think it a waste.”

She smiled and kissed him gently, feeling possessive of this man who held her. “Neither do I.”

15

The cool night air slithered over Malcolm’s skin as he stepped out of the grand manse in Aberdeen. After his encounter with Olivia, he needed the chill of fresh air to calm his overheated blood.

His muscles strained against his flesh as his brain strained against his skull—as his blood strained against his veins. Everything inside wanted to come out.

In all of his life, in all of his career, he’d never experienced the frustration and emotion that he had over the last few months.

This case.

Olivia.

She complicated matters. If she were removed from the equation, he didn’t think he’d have half the problems he had now. The overwhelming sentiments looking at her brought were enough to take him to his knees, let alone when she allowed him to kiss her.

Good God. This had never happened before. It was hard to put the feelings he was experiencing into words. And there was one word, in particular, he dared not put to voice.Love.

Bloody hell. Too late. Helovedher.

That notion made the constriction of his cravat suddenly feel as if it were choking him. Malcolm didn’t fall in love. Didn’t let down his defenses for a female, no matter who she was. Except this wasn’t true anymore. Because every time he was around Olivia, his carefully constructed fortifications came crumbling down from the thick layers of mental mortar he’d bound them with.

Malcolm clawed at his cravat, yanking at the knots and then tossing it to the ground. And as the white starched fabric fluttered into the grass, a shadow crossed his peripheral vision about twenty yards away.

With the instinct of a great spy, he crouched immediately, his hand reaching for the pistol at his side, which wasn’t there.Ballocks.He blamed Olivia for his lack of foresight.

Gaze locked in the direction of movement, Malcolm watched a cloaked figure that looked quite a lot like the one he’d seen in London, racing across the lawn in the direction of the vast loch on the property. He almost rolled his eyes at both the idiocy of the man being so blatant and that the man would spend the time to put on his mask and cloak, which only made him more visible. Malcolm wouldn’t have looked twice if he’d simply been one of the guests deciding to take a walk by the loch.

He supposed he should count this as a blessing because his perpetrators were getting sloppy. Too comfortable. They’d gotten away with their antics for too long. His fault.

There sure were a hell of a lot of coincidences going on since he’d crossed paths with Olivia in the woods. So many that it was bordering on lunacy. Malcolm had always stood by his belief that there was no such thing as coincidence, and while he’d suspended it where Olivia was concerned, he could not do so in the face of this shadowy figure. It was clearly the same man from London, the same one he’d been searching for.

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