The Highlander's Christmas Countess (The Lairds Most Likely 8) - Page 34

His touch was tender as he caught her face in one hand and tilted her chin up. At the contact, her breath caught and her eyes darkened, but she didn’t pull away.

Slowly he lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. Swift heat enveloped him, although the contact was chaste and over in a second.

Quentin took a grip on his wilder impulses and gave her another of those glancing kisses. Her lips were so soft, full and pillowy under his. He resisted the urge to sink into the kiss and drink his full of her sweetness.

Kit gave a murmur of pleasure and shifted closer. Encouraged, the next time he kissed her, he lingered, taking a moment extra to savor her taste. With the following kiss, her lips moved beneath his with the beginnings of response.

He sucked her lush lower lip into his mouth, inviting her to open to him. When she made a faint sound of bewilderment, he retreated.

“You didn’t like that?” he whispered, lifting his other hand so he cradled her face.

Her cheeks were pink, and the heaviness in her gaze told him this gradual wooing achieved its aims. “It was unexpected. That’s all.”

“Shall I do it again?”

“Yes, please,” she sighed and closed her eyes as she lifted her face.

He went back to gentle kisses. When he flicked his tongue across the closed seam of her lips, instead of withdrawing this time, she parted to let him in. Fighting a surge of triumph, he slipped his tongue into the honeyed interior.

She made another of those soft sounds of surrender and the next time his tongue slid into her mouth, she dared to meet him with a flutter of hers.

He groaned and released her face so he could curl his arms around her and haul her against his shaking body. Because this careful seduction seduced him, too. Gentleness became harder to maintain when she twined her arms around him and pressed closer. She was vital and slender in his embrace and each time he kissed her, it became more of a battle not to plunder her mouth with all the passion rising inside him.

His kisses remained playful, although it was a struggle to remember her innocence, her fragility. He’d cut his throat before he let himself frighten her. She’d already been frightened enough.

Quentin raised his head and stared down at Kit through dazed eyes. She looked all rosy and befuddled, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

A faint frown drew those winged brows together. “Why did you stop?”

“Because I’m trying to keep my head, and you’re so beguiling, it’s not easy.”

He laughed when she looked mighty pleased with herself. “I liked kissing you.”

“I liked kissing you, too.” A sudden uncomfortable thought struck him. “Do you know what happens between a man and a woman?”

By God, he hoped so, or he feared that he’d frighten her again.

The sardonic look she cast him was so much Kit, the insubordinate stableboy, that he laughed again. “I grew up around horses. I understand the basics.”

“With people, it’s not quite the same as a stallion mounting a mare.”

She made a face that made him want to kiss her again. “I hope not. The mare never seems to enjoy it very much.”

He remained caught between concern and amusement. “I’m not sure a woman enjoys her first time either. Although I don’t speak from experience.”

“But you have done this before?”

As her gaze sharpened on him, he blushed. “Kit…”

“I’m not supposed to ask that, am I?”

He caught her hand, as he remembered bonny Jenny McLeod, the jolliest widow this side of the border, who had turned his twentieth summer to magic. Here with Kit, he had difficulty recalling Jenny’s face. “Perhaps not, but, aye, I have done this before.”

Jenny had taken a raw, eager boy and taught him how to give and receive pleasure. The next year, she’d married a spice merchant and now lived in Glasgow. He hoped that she was happy. She’d certainly made Quentin happy for a couple of sunlit months.

Kit’s voice remained serious. “Emily talked to me about what happens. She said if the lover is kind, even the first time can be glorious.”

Quentin wasn’t sure he wanted quite so much insight into his aunt and uncle’s marital life, although anyone could see that the love they shared included a healthy portion of physical enjoyment. “That gives me an awful lot to live up to.”

Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical
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