The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)

“Well, that’s encouraging.” A ghost of a smile deepened the corners of his mouth, fuller than usual after all those urgent kisses. “Would ye like to try again?”

“Only if you would.”

“My body is at your command, lassie.” He kissed her quickly, then stepped back. “Make braw use of it.”

A couple of hours ago, that invitation would have had her quaking with nerves. What had she cared then for a man’s body? The thought alone promised only pain and degradation.

But this was Diarmid, and she’d wanted to touch him for a long time. Despite her fear, his male beauty had always drawn her.

Now he was hers to explore.

“What should I do?” she asked again, as her hands itched to discover the hard planes of his torso.

He spread his arms out and smiled at her with a delight that chased away the shadows in her heart. “Whatever ye want.”

“But will you like it?”

“I’m sure I will. I’ll like it even more if ye do.”

She bit her lips and wondered where to start. Her touch tentative, she placed her hands flat on that triangle of skin where she’d kissed him.

“You’re so warm,” she said almost to herself.

His muscles bunched under her caresses. This time, she didn’t read the response as rejection, but as stirring need.

“I burn for ye,” he said softly. “You must ken that by now, Fiona.”

She did. It was lovely knowledge. With growing confidence, she spread her hands wider, pushing the heavy red velvet aside to reveal flat brown nipples.

He’d liked it when she’d been bold. Perhaps she should be bold again. The breath caught in her throat as she leaned in to kiss each nipple in turn.

She heard Diarmid stifle a groan of pleasure. When he’d suckled her breasts, wild, shivery sensations had rocketed through her. Could she do that to him? She placed her mouth over one nipple and drew hard until the point hardened. She swirled her tongue over the nub until he was shaking.

“Dinna…stop,” he said in a cracked voice she’d never heard before.

She caressed his ribs as she nibbled her way across his chest. Avid hands pushed at the dressing gown, edging it down until it hung loose around his waist.

In a fever of carnal curiosity, she fumbled to untie the belt. But her fingers couldn’t make sense of the knot.

He caught her hands. “No’ yet.”

“I want to see you.” Enough of the former frightened Fiona remained for her to marvel at the demand.

“Last time, I rushed ye.”

Her hands stilled, and she stared up at him, puzzled. “No, you didn’t.”

“Aye, I did.” That crooked smile she’d come to love turned his lips down. “If ye undress me, I’m likely to rush you this time as well. That would be a pity when there are things I want to do to ye first.”

A luscious ripple stirred her blood. “That sounds—”

“Terrifying?”

Once, perhaps. No longer.

The answer she settled for didn’t come near to expressing the turbulent storm raging inside her. “Interesting.”

“I hope you’ll think so. Will ye follow where I lead?”