Devils Highlander (Clan MacAlpin 1)

He laughed. “I asked you a question. 'Tis customary to answer before posing your own. ” Her eyes narrowed. Cormac had spent the past however many years glowering in silence, and now suddenly he wanted talking. “Is it customary to talk so much in the midst of… of such proceedings?”

“One could argue this is a part of such proceedings. ” He drew his hand in one slow stroke along her cheek, down her neck, and over her breast to her belly. He watched the path of his hand with single-minded intent.

Her breasts pulled taut, her whole body quivering in response to his attention.

His attention. She sighed. How many years had she longed for such attentions from Cormac?

He gripped her hips firmly, staring at her with such purpose. He pressed close to her, and then abruptly he pulled away.

She studied him, his strong profile in the guttering candlelight. Folk had likened him and the other MacAlpins to devils, and Cormac was certainly as handsome as one. But his scarred brow bore so many secrets. What had dragged him from the darkness of Aidan's kidnap into such grave depths?

She could talk, she decided. For now. But she would convince him. Cormac would lie with her before the night was over.

“I'd like to answer your question with a question, then. ” She'd grown chilled and reached for the sheet. With a gentle hand to stop her, Cormac leaned to the floor, retrieving his plaid to cover them. “Thank you,” she said as matter-of-factly as if she'd been at a banquet table.

“So. ” She pinned him with a steady look. “I'd like to point out that you're not wed either. ” He regarded her quietly, and uncertainty assailed her. Why hadn't he wed? Was there a woman out there somewhere whom he'd loved? Who'd hurt him? Was Marjorie not the only woman who waited for him?

“Oh. ” Her voice was tiny. She felt tiny. She wanted to change the topic. Blast him, she wanted to flee from the damn room. But she had to know. “Have there been women?”

“I'm human, Ree. ”

She blinked back the sting from her eyes. He was human. What could that possibly mean?

He touched her chin tenderly. “But have any found their way into my heart? No, Ree. None since you. ”

“Oh,” she said again, and then grew brighter, considering the thought. Did that mean she'd been in his heart?

Was she in it still? She gave him a tremulous smile. If he wanted to talk, she'd be happy to plumb that topic for all it was worth. Cormac would have all the discussion he wanted.

But she would have Cormac before the sun rose.

Chapter 23

Into my heart? How had that slipped from his tongue?

He took in Ree's tousled hair, the sight of her lips swollen from his kisses. He'd kissed her and touched her, had tasted the most intimate parts of her. No, he knew exactly how he'd let it slip out. His resolve had shattered the moment she'd dropped her gown.

Her breasts had taken his breath away, full and flawless, her body glowing golden in the candlelight. And now this precious creature lay with him, their naked legs in a tangle. He held her close, stroking her pale skin, softer than any satin in his hands.

“Not since me?” She repeated his words with a smile.

He should've known she'd cling to that statement. “I suppose that's what I said. ” She pursed her lips. “You suppose?”

“Yes. No. I mean… “ He couldn't help himself from stealing another touch. He rubbed his hand over her belly, letting his fingers sweep down to graze the small triangle of stiff curls. She was so gorgeous, so perfect, and she'd let him taste her.

He clenched his eyes shut — he couldn't concentrate with the sight of her naked shoulders to distract him. What had he been saying? “Aye, in my heart,” he confessed. “It's always been so. ” Cormac dropped his head to the pillow in defeat. He was doing it again, saying more than he should. Turning onto his side, he shifted away, but the rich, musky scent of her only rose to him from the sheets. “Och, Ree, you have me at a disadvantage. ”

She gave a sultry little laugh, and the sound terrified him.

“Then I

suppose I'll just have to keep you here. ” She traced her fingers down his arm. Her touch was so soothing, so delicate, and yet so arousing.

His skin was on fire. He took a deep, measured inhale. He'd not steal her maidenhead like some undisciplined boy.

Talking. More talking might take his mind from it. “You're still avoiding my question. ”

“Am I?” Her delicate fingers roved to his leg, outlining a pattern along the tartan draped over his thigh. She opened her hand, giving him a gentle squeeze.