Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood 4)

“Perhaps I’d rather not catch a chill. But if you’re reading my thoughts I suggest you stop there. At the moment, my mind is no fit place for a lady.” Even in the dark he could see that her cheeks flushed a berry red. He did not have the ability to read minds but guessed she was busily engaged in trying to form a witty reply.

“I’m no lady, Lachlan,” she said as they followed the path to the hunting lodge. “I’m a bewitching enchantress, remember, out to seduce men only to sink my teeth into their throats and drink their blood.”

He swallowed deeply at the thought of her warm, wet mouth nuzzling his neck. “Well, I have plenty to spare.” He opened the wooden gate leading to the property, watched the seductive sway of her hips as she walked towards the front door.

Ewan Carrick and Alistair Maclean had spent many a night tucked away in the secluded property. Although they both enjoyed the thrill of hunting, the opportunity to drink and retell their wild stories proved to be much more of a draw. Or so he had gathered from his father’s jovial tales.

He followed Isla into the porch, watched her wiggle a small square stone loose and squeeze her fingers down behind it to retrieve the key. After replacing the stone, she brushed the dust from her hands before holding up the dull-looking iron object.

“Dare you enter the witch’s lair?” The excited twinkle in her eye caused a sudden bolt of desire to shoot through him. His cock pulsed and swelled at the thought of joining with her. “What if I should use my newly discovered ability to compel you to do a whole host of wicked things?”

“Trust me,” he began with a hint of amusement. “You do not need to compel me to do anything. The catalogue of wicked things I wish to do to you is endless.”

He expected her to blush again, but she surprised him by coming up on her toes to kiss him gently on the mouth. “Perhaps I have a list of my own. One equally as long and just as wicked.”

Lachlan swallowed deeply as she stepped away and turned to open the door. Good Lord, he had never felt so consumed with need for a woman. What if three years of longing coupled with the sudden flurry of excitement resulted in a rather premature reaction?

He shook his head to banish the thought and followed her inside.

Isla stopped in the gloomy hallway and handed him the key. “Lock the door behind you. I’ll not feel comfortable until we have checked all the rooms. No one has been here for years.” She nodded to a door at the end of the corridor. “Shall I start with the kitchen?”

Squinting in an attempt to focus in the darkness, Lachlan peered through the open doors leading off the hall. Cobwebs glistened where shafts of moonlight streamed through the window panes. The air smelt stale and musty. He could hear the faint scratching and scurrying sounds of a rodent or two.

But despite the grim conditions, he was determined nothing would dampen his ardour.

He reached for Isla’s hand and pulled her round to face him. “There’s no need to check the rooms. There’s no one here other than a family of mice and a whole host of spiders.” With the tip of his finger, he touched her lips and traced their luscious outline. They were soft and full. He could not resist the urge to probe a fraction de

eper, to where the inside of her lip was warm, moist. “There is nothing to fear. I’ll protect you as I always promised I would.”

She batted her lashes as she looked up at him. As they locked gazes, she ran her tongue slowly over the pad of his finger. Bloody hell. The sudden burst of passion that charged the air between them almost knocked him off his feet. It didn’t matter where they chose to celebrate their union. Indeed, the ragged sound of his breathing drowned out any other noise. The potent scent that clung to her skin filled his head, masking all else.

Without warning, he scooped her up in arms.

“Lachlan.” She shrieked but her tone conveyed excitement.

She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly as he mounted the stairs. The urge to kiss her took hold. He almost missed the top step when he covered her mouth with own. As expected, what began as a simple gesture of ardent affection, spiralled into a blazing inferno of unsated lust.

They did not make it as far as a bed chamber. They stopped on the landing. She practically jumped from his arms in a bid to touch him. He shrugged out of his greatcoat, the heavy garment landing with a thud on the dusty boards. His tailcoat quickly followed. He found her mouth and kissed her again. She tugged at the ends of his cravat, frustration marring her brow when the complicated knot refused to comply with her demands.

“Why won’t it budge?” She pulled it again, stumbling over the task because her fingers were shaking. “Oh, it is a ridiculous piece of apparel.”

He took her hands and brought them to his lips, kissed them tenderly. “Hush, love. I’ll do it. We have plenty of time.”

“I have waited a lifetime to touch you, Lachlan.” Her voice sounded strained as she waited for him to untie his neckcloth. In a matter of seconds, it landed on the floor to join the mounting pile of discarded garments. “I cannot wait a moment longer.”

Lachlan could not help but smile. He only hoped he had the strength and the stamina to keep her entertained for a few hours. The thought caused his smile to fade when he recalled the reason they’d left the castle at night. Come the morning she would take the cure and he had no idea how it would affect her.

Suddenly possessed with a level of urgency, he dragged his shirt over his head and threw it in the same carefree manner he had his other items.

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of his bare chest. Tentative fingers reached out to touch him. “You’re skin is so warm.” She sucked in a breath as her hands drifted over the hard planes in his abdomen before moving up and across his shoulders. “Your muscles are so solid and sculptured, so … so magnificent.”

Such praise meant more to him because he knew it to be a genuine reflection of her feelings, because all he’d ever wanted was to please her. “Let me return the compliment,” he said as he tugged the ribbon on her cape. The silk slipped smoothly through his fingers. He moved to push the garment from her shoulders.

“Wait. Let me. It belonged to my mother.” She offered no other explanation, but her meaning became clear when she gathered it in her arms and draped it carefully over the balustrade behind him. “I rather like the view from this angle too,” she continued, trailing her fingers over the muscles in his back. When those eager fingers travelled around his waist to brush against the buttons on his trousers, it was almost his undoing.

“Isla.” Her name fell from his lips accompanied by a pleasurable moan.

“Yes, Lachlan.”