To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

Finished with the jacket, he went to work on the buttons of her demure white shirt. Alex's drowsy eyes met his as he reached the last button and his hand smoothed the fabric away from her. Her corset was cut low, and her breasts rose above it, covered by only the thinnest linen of her shift.

His eyes fell to the tiny bows that held the chemise to­gether, and he watched as his callused brown fingers pulled at the blue bows. The linen parted in a slow revela­tion. He felt her eyes on his face as he slid the fabric down and his fingers brushed over bare skin. She was small and perfect, the warm rise of her just fitting into his palm.

He felt curiously unhurried now, though his cock strained at the tightness of his breeches. He let his hand r

est still against her hot skin a moment, absorbed the hard thud of her heart into his palm before he slid it aside and lowered his mouth. His tongue circled the pink tip of her breast, felt it harden and peak against him. Alex sighed and

her fingers curled into his hair. He took the hard pebble of her nipple into his mouth and laved his tongue against her until he felt her hands tighten to fists.

Urgency came upon him again, and he shifted and bared her other breast to taste that one as well. She moaned and raised her knees into a V that cradled him between her thighs. His clothes were suddenly the roughest wool cloth against his skin.

Collin knelt between those raised legs, tugged at his cravat, and tore his fingers down the buttons of his shirt. Her flushed face stared up at him, her small, beautiful breasts heaved with the force of her breath.

An unwelcome sound floated to his ears over the thump of his heart and the steady rush of the sea. He froze, shift­ing his eyes to a place above her body.

"Collin, what—?"

He raised a hand for silence, but she groaned when the clear jingle of a harness chimed from the west.

Hands already closing his shirt, he stood to retrieve his coat and laid it over her nakedness. "A rider. Stay here."

Throwing her hands over her eyes, Alexandra blew out a loud sigh that followed him as he walked away.

Collin slipped into the trees, then worked his way back toward Thor. The jingling of the harness grew louder with each step.

By the time he reached Thor, he'd spotted the wheel ruts of a much-used trail twenty yards away. It seemed to follow the western edge of the wooded area. Looking back to where Alex lay, he was relieved to see no sign of her. He couldn't even see Brinn from here.

He stayed in the shadows, unwilling to take the risk of some friendly traveler stopping for a long chat. He was not in the mood. Still, he wasn't in quite the same mood he had been a bare minute ago.

His blood had definitely cooled, he realized with some disappointment as he watched a tinker's cart emerge from the copse of trees and rumble past. The tinker himself looked to be asleep at the reins. Collin watched for a good ten minutes to be sure that the cart continued on its way, then sighed with no small amount of sorrow as he turned to work his way back to the lovely Alexandra.

His brain had sprung back to vigilant attention. Damn. She was by far the most responsive woman he'd ever had the pleasure of touching. Holding her had been like hold­ing a living fire in his arms, a fire that threatened to burn out of control at any moment.

A few minutes ago he'd thought he would die if he didn't slide himself into the core of her. Now, mourning the loss of that pleasure, he would have to help her back into her clothes and escort her home.

Why had he been cursed with a mother who'd brow­beaten him into responsibility?

He approached their makeshift bed and saw her still lying on the grass. As he drew closer, his scowl relaxed into a smile. She'd fallen asleep. Despite the danger of being spied by a traveler, she hadn't even bothered to dress. She'd only pulled down her skirts and drawn his coat close before curling onto her side.

As quietly as he could, Collin sat on the grass next to her, arms resting on his bent knees. He watched her, stud­ied her face, turned as it was toward the shade. Her lovely pink mouth had relaxed in sleep, lips parted slightly and curved just the tiniest bit into a smile.

By God, she was a beauty. Her heart-shaped face was delicate—the perfect foil for those huge blue eyes. Her black hair contrasted deliciously with pale skin, especially the pale skin of her belly and thighs.

No, he told himself sternly. Do not think of that.

Even her imperfections were perfect. The freckles made her seem real. And the too-strong jut of her chin matured what might have been a child-like face.

Still, she looked young and fragile, a fairy princess caught in a nap.

The soft breeze picked up a stray curl and it whispered over her cheek to caress her lip. Collin gently brushed it away and leaned in to replace it with a kiss. Those blue eyes of hers peeked out beneath heavy lids.

"Collin," she breathed and he remembered very clearly how he had lost himself in that mouth so easily. But he only smiled down at her.

"Do you feel as lovely as you look?"

Her smile turned to a grin as she rolled to her back and stretched like a well-fed kitten, shirt gaping open to reveal one shell-pink nipple. Collin took a deep breath and reached toward her—he couldn't help himself—but he forced his twitching fingers to draw the shirt together. Her naughty smile faltered when he began to refasten the buttons.

"What are you doing?"