Devils Own (Clan MacAlpin 2)

“Perhaps,” he mimicked. “You little fox, you’re more than folk take you for, do you know that?”

She shrugged, her lip trembling in a coy smile.

He took one last step forward, till his stomach was pressed against hers. “Shall I frisk you, then?”

He was a solid wall of hot muscle pressed along her thighs, against her breasts, inflaming her till she thought she might come apart from her trembling. “If you must. ”

He raised a hand to stroke up the side of her torso, and she answered instinctively by lifting her arms to rest on his shoulders. His eyes grew dark, his voice ragged. “What’s the matter with me? You’re being wed to a criminal. I feel in my gut that the man whose face has haunted me for years is in reach. Yet all I can think is that I want to kiss you. ”

“Kiss me?” Her voice cracked as he began to nuzzle her neck.

His hand roved her torso eagerly now, drifting thrillingly close to the swell of her breast. “I’ll stop, if you wish it,” he said, his voice a low rasp.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His mouth slowed, hovering hot over her throat. Oh God, did he think she wanted him to stop? How to show him she wanted very much for him to kiss her once more? She did as she imagined any romantic heroine would do, and pulling apart from him, she tilted up her face and shut her eyes.

He stroked her cheek. “I want you, and you want me too, don’t you? Sweet Beth. There’s naught you seem to fear. ”

She risked a peek from beneath her lashes. “What I fear is that … that you might not kiss me again after all. ”

“Not that,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Never that. ” He swooped in, taking her mouth in a hot-blooded kiss.

Elspeth’s world exploded. She opened herself to him, melting into him, welcoming him, exploring with mouth and teeth and tongue, like a woman starved. Like a wanton.

The thought that she might be a wanton aroused her all the more.

A dam broke deep inside her, letting free every passion she’d ever harbored. Twining her fingers in his hair, she crushed her body as close as she could against his. She felt his startled laugh turn to a groan in her mouth, and it inflamed her desire to a fever pitch.

He gradually began to slow the kiss, gradually and regretfully pulling away. “We shouldn’t. ”

She opened her mouth to protest, and he laughed low, interrupting her by saying, “Rather, we should. Just not here. ”

“Oh,” she said, relieved.

Leaning her weight into him, she gazed up, a smile in her eyes for this man who seemed to soften for none but her. One needed only to see his scars, testifying to a lifetime of beatings, or imagine his escape, or his adventures across the sea, to know Aidan was the most dangerous of rogues. And yet she felt protected in his arms.

She’d felt such dread when her father had first spoken the name Dougal Fraser. She knew she should summon that dread now. She should, even now, be jumping into action, searching for clues, fighting for her freedom. Yet she and Aidan both stood, mesmerized by this happy dream from which they dared not wake.

She reached to cup his cheek for a moment, and as she stroked back down, she felt a strange, hard ridge in his breast pocket. She canted her head, giving him a quizzical look. “What’s this?”

His eyes had been hazy from the kiss, and she watched as they cleared. He gave her a lazy smile and kissed the tip of her nose. “I got you something. ”

“Me?” She became woozy with panicked selfconsciousness. Aidan was the first man—the first person, really—to give her gifts so freely. The thought that he’d bought her something else had her feeling embarrassed. “Something?”

“Most women receive such news with some degree of pleasure. ” He stroked the side of her hotly blushing cheek. “Look at you, flying your colors. I can see your blush, even in the shadows. ”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said stiffly.

“I know it. But surprise is the nature of the whole enterprise, isn’t it?” With a finger he tipped her face to his. “Do you not generally get gifts?”

She shook her head. “Not generally, no. ”

“Well, we’re a pair,” he said, “because I don’t generally give them. ” Not publicly, at least.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she repeated.

He stared at her a moment, dumbfounded. Why did the woman feel so blasted uncomfortable? It was such a simple damned gift he’d gotten her.

He looked over his shoulder, but there wasn’t a soul to be seen in their alleyway, and so he turned his attention back to her. “Shut your eyes,” he said.