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

“So are you.”

A grunt of bitter laughter escaped him. “I’m never too tired for that.”

She sighed and sat back just in time to save his ragged composure. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He felt his jaw drop. “Are ye saying you want…”

“Why not?” It was her turn to look uncomfortable. Color rose under her gardenia-petal skin, but she held his gaze. “You know I liked what we did. I thought you did, too.”

“I did indeed.” Although “liked” was a lily-livered word for the sea of irresistible pleasure that had swept him to paradise in her arms.

Her lips tightened with disapproval. “Must I ask you whenever I want to do…that?”

“It would help to know I’m no’ bullying ye.”

Something glowed in her eyes, before her lashes fluttered down to hide her expression. “It might be nice to be invited. So far, I’ve asked you twice, and you haven’t asked me at all.”

“For the love of God, Fiona,” he bit out, setting his wine on the floor and starting to climb out of the bath, only to stop when she gave him a small wave of discouragement.

“Perhaps not right now,” she mumbled, although the gaze that ran over his wet body sent another message entirely.

Confused, feeling like she played with him, obscurely hurt, he subsided with a splash. “But ye said…”

She made a helpless gesture toward the door. “Dinner will be here in half an hour. I’d rather…”

He groaned in self-disgust. Of course it would. These last few days, he’d teetered on a knife edge. Now the idea that she might welcome his attentions chased every other thought out of his brain.

“I’m sorry. I didnae think.”

She still watched him. He was calm enough now to recognize the keen interest in her expression. “We don’t have to linger over our meal.”

“No, we damned well don’t.” His voice deepened into seriousness. “Are ye feeling better?”

“You said you had a few ideas about Christina.” She took a sip of her wine. “Will you tell me?”

“Let me get out first.”

The flush in her cheeks deepened. “I’m happy to let you finish your bath, as long as you don’t mind me being here.”

He settled back. “If you’ll pour in some hot water, I’m happy to stay until our dinner arrives.”

“Perhaps I could wash your back.”

Heat stirred anew, but lazy this time and laden with sweet anticipation. He was even able to laugh softly. “Och, that would be grand.”

The sultry look she directed toward him was a surprise. She bent to pick up his wine and pass it across. “It would make me feel very wifely.”

“Then kiss me, and I’ll tell you what’s in my mind.”

Another comprehensive inspection of his body, before she leaned in and gave him a claret-tinged kiss. “I know what’s in your mind, husband.”

A wolfish smile curved his lips. “In that case, wife, let me tell you what else is in my mind.”

Chapter 31

Fiona settled on her stool beside the bath and tried not to stare at Diarmid the way a rustic stared at the glories of Edinburgh. But it was nearly impossible when he reclined naked before her, his broad chest glistening with moisture and his thick, dark hair clinging in unruly curls to his head. Not to mention the sight of the part of him that she’d once felt grow hard and insistent under her hesitant caresses. When it came to her second husband, she’d chosen a magnificent specimen.

“Fiona, if ye keep looking at me like that, I’m afraid I’ll let dinner go to hell. No’ to mention we’ll shock the servants.”