Absent in the Spring (The Shakespeare Sisters 3)

His laugh got louder.

‘No, I’m serious, what bloody fire?’ She was indignant. ‘I haven’t got a fire. Have you got a fire?’

‘Yes, I have. A big orange one. It’s as hot as Hades in here.’

‘That’s not fair.’ She wanted to pout. ‘Where’s my fire?’

‘I could build you one up,’ he offered. ‘Are there logs in your room?’

‘There’s not even a fireplace.’ She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her. ‘How come you get the hot room?’

‘I’m practically the laird. I get all the good stuff.’ His tone was enough to tell her he was teasing. Didn’t stop her from wanting to hit him. And kiss him.

Stop that right now.

She huffed. ‘I’m sending a complaint in tomorrow. Right to the top.’

‘They’ll be quaking in their boots, I bet,’ Lachlan said. ‘Pretty much like you are now.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Ah, you’re full of the one-liners tonight.’

‘It’s hard to think of one-liners when your whole body is succumbing to frostbite. Seriously, what kind of place is this? Why would they put me in this room when you have the fire?’

‘You want to swap?’ His offer sounded genuine. For a moment she imagined climbing into his bed. Would it still smell of him? Would she be able to feel where he’d been lying? Would it still hold his warmth?

‘No,’ she managed. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re not fine. You should come in here.’

‘But then you’ll freeze,’ she pointed out. ‘It’s fine, I can take it for one night. And after that all bets are off.’

‘Lucy, just get your butt in here. I’m your client, and that’s an order.’

She hesitated, not sure if she was turned on or appalled by his offer. In the end, good sense won out. ‘Good night, Lachlan. Sleep tight.’ Not waiting for his reply, she ended the call, and for good measure turned her ringer to silent. There was temptation, and then there was temptation. The only way to avoid it was to pretend it didn’t exist.

Banging her phone on the bedside table with a satisfying thump, she lay back in her bed, folding her arms across her chest. She closed her eyes, scrunching them tightly, but it was no good. She was too on edge to sleep. Her mind was too full of him, thoughts punching at her skull like a middleweight determined to win the title.

She huffed, turning on her side, curling her legs up to try to conserve the warmth. But it was only getting colder, the night air stealing into her room through the gaps in the window.

It was like the Arctic in here.

She sat straight up, pulling her fleece pyjama top a little closer around her. Without letting herself think, she swung her feet onto the wooden boards and padded across the room, her footsteps almost inaudible. Within moments she was standing in front of a large oak door, all too aware that on the other side was the man she couldn’t get out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried.

She lifted her hand, curling her fingers into her palm to form a fist. But just as she moved it forward, about to knock on his door, good sense got the better of her.

What the hell was she doing?

She was his attorney, not his lover. She had no place to be standing outside his bedroom, no matter how cold she was. The layer of professionalism she’d worked so hard to cultivate was stretched so thin it was almost broken.

She walked backwards, pulling her fist tightly to her side, then turned and all but ran back to her room, not caring if he heard the footsteps. Her heart was pounding when she climbed back into bed, though it had done nothing to warm her body. The only place that had any heat was the redness on her cheeks.

Her door creaked, and she looked up to see it opening. Lachlan stepped inside, wearing pyjama pants and nothing else. She could see every ridge of muscle in his torso, exposed in the pale glow of her bedside lamp. Dear God, if she’d thought him attractive before, it was nothing compared to this overwhelming desire she was feeling now.

He didn’t say a word. Instead, he walked towards her and lifted the blankets away, scooping her up as if she weighed next to nothing. He cradled her against his bare chest, and she reflexively grasped onto the tops of his arms, afraid she might fall.

He was all hard muscle and supple skin. Not an ounce of fat nestled among the ridges of his deltoids. And he was warm, so so warm. She couldn’t help but press her face against his chest, closing her eyes to inhale him. He turned, carrying her out of the bedroom, his footsteps getting louder as he reached the wooden floor in the hallway. Then he was carrying her into his bedroom, across the carpet and to the four-poster bed on the far side.