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A Scot's Surrender: Scottish Historical Romance (A Laird to Love Book 3) by Tammy Andresen (9)

Chapter Eight

Agnes struggled to remember a time when she’d been more content. Or excited. She’d never sleep like this. He was warmth and muscle under her touch, heating her in all the right ways.

With her ear still resting against his chest and her body fit snuggled against his side, she angled her face up to his. Before she could hold it back, she let her thoughts slip out. “I don’t know how I’ll sleep alone for the rest of the winter. This is so much nicer.”

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, and she felt it before she heard it, which was somehow deeply satisfying. “Aye, it is.”

“You really think you’ll never marry?” she asked. “You’ll spend every winter alone?”

He was silent for so long that she’d first thought he hadn’t heard her, and then she worried she’d offended him. “Most times, I’m don’t mind being alone. Lately though, I wonder.” He squeezed her tighter, then his lips grazed her forehead. “But I am not remaining alone for myself. As you pointed out, I lack some gentlemanly qualities that make me a less-than-ideal candidate for any woman.”

She swallowed, guilt stabbing at her chest. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“I ken, lass. And you were correct about me in your own way.”

“My own way? What does that mean?” she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I’ll admit to being less than a gentleman in a few circumstances if ye’ll agree you can be rather naïve about the temperament of a man. Yer always going on about a man being a gentleman.”

Agnes sighed. “I’m sure I often appear so, and there are areas that I certainly have a great deal to learn about the world. But how I want a man to treat me isn’t one of them. I lost my father, Keiran, and my mother and I were cast into the world. He’d had debts he’d hidden, and it wasn’t until the collectors came to take our possessions, our home, that my mother realized the truth.” She lifted her head a little to better look into his eyes. “You only need to lose a man’s protection to understand its importance. I need a man who understands that too.”

Keiran didn’t answer, and Agnes assumed that he did not agree with her. But she wouldn’t argue her point further with a wounded man who she was currently cuddled against, and so she settled herself back down deeper into his embrace and closed her eyes.

She could feel herself relax, a lull of sleep just settling over her when he finally spoke again. “I sometimes forget ye’ve suffered too. Ye’ve known loss.”

“That’s all right.” He wasn’t wearing a shirt, it had been cut off him to bandage the wound. Agnes allowed her fingers to trail over his warm skin, the hair on his chest tickling her palm. “But it is why I have to return in the spring and find a husband. My mother and my uncle have shouldered the burden long enough. It’s my duty to marry a man who can provide for us.” Her voice was sleepy as her fingers reached his neck and started back down his chest toward his abdomen. He felt wonderful, lean and strong and so inviting.

“That is a big responsibility in its own way, yet yer disposition remains so sunny.” His arm tightened around her shoulder

“Is that a compliment or an insult? Does it seem silly to you? That I try to forget the bad and focus on the good?” She let her hand slide down his stomach, stopping at his belly button. What would happen if she allowed herself to go farther?

“No, it doesnae. In fact, I think it is wonderful.” He stopped talking, his breath coming out in a hiss as her hand slid lower. She had just decided that she wanted to find out. He growled her name as she brushed her fingers on the band of his kilt. “Agnes.”

But she didn’t stop. Slipping her hand under his kilt, she allowed herself to slowly explore. The garment was only loosely secured about his waist, giving her free access. As she touched the hair above his manhood, her own unmentionables twitched with need. “I want to touch you, Keiran,” she whispered. “More than I ever wanted anything else in my life.”

And then she wrapped her hand around his member. It was hard, yet velvety and much thicker than she’d imagined. Her fingers couldn’t make it all the way around. He let out a groan at the contact. “I am trying to be good,” he began, panting as she moved her hand up and down, exploring further.

“I am in bed with a rogue.” Her husky voice sounded foreign to her own ears. “I don’t want to be good.”

“Agnes, you were just talking about marrying and…” His words trailed off as her fingers skimmed over the head and then slid back down his shaft.

His nipple was under her cheek and she had the urge to kiss it, to know what his skin tasted like. As her tongue darted out, he gave a loud groan. “Did I hurt you?” she asked, her hands and mouth going still.

“Bloody hell, no. It’s just right.” He panted. “Agnes, please, please don’t stop.”

It filled her with a deep satisfaction, and even more powerful yearning, to hear those words again, as she resumed her exploration. “I want to touch every inch of you.” She kissed a trail down his stomach, marveling at the ripple of muscles that led to a deep V pointed straight to his most interesting part of all. “Kiss you from head to toe.” He used his good hand to yank at his kilt, loosening it until it fell to the sides. Her lips skimmed down his skin until she had reached his manhood and she gave it the smallest kiss, right on the tip.

But it wasn’t enough, so she licked it and then, without thinking, sucked it into her mouth. His hips bucked off the bed. “Oh, dear lord.” He groaned, his head thrashing.

“Did I do it wrong?” she asked, but somehow, she knew she hadn’t.

“No, lass, please,” he begged again.

This time she sucked more of him into her mouth, running her tongue along the ridges.

“Sweet…Mary…mother…of…” He took a shallow breath between each word.

As she moved back up his shaft, she paused. Somehow, talking made it all the more fun. “Can I tell you a secret?” She sucked him in again and then pulled off. “I don’t think I want to be a lady anymore.” She kissed him again before releasing him. “This is so much more fun.” Again, she continued suckling him and then talking. “Now I understand why women prefer rogues to gentleman.” And, as she wrapped her lips about him one more time, a sweet, sticky liquid coated her tongue. His body spasmed, his moans filling the room.

It was so deeply satisfying that her own ache nearly came undone. She tried to decide which she preferred, talking or doing. The conversation had made it that much more exciting.

And then a knock at the door interrupted all of the fun. “Keiran?” Ewan called. “Are ye all right?”

It was wild and wanton, but Agnes suddenly didn’t care if they were caught, and she stifled a giggle. Keiran flipped her to his other side, grimacing at the pain it surely caused. That sobered her up. “Get down on the other side of the bed,” he hissed.

She did as he asked and he ripped the blanket up his body, not a moment too soon, before Ewan opened the door. “Keiran, what’s the matter?”

“I’m fine. Just a dream,” Keiran gritted out. He sounded pained, but Agnes was aware of the actual reason he was really flustered, and she had to cover her mouth with her hands to keep a wild laugh from escaping

She could only see Ewan’s feet as she peered under the bed toward the door, but she could hear him. “Aye, I have them too.” Ewan paused. “Being with Clarissa helps.”

“I dunnae want to a lecture on the merits of marriage now,” Keiran answered. “I’m fine, Ewan, so if ye’ll excuse me, I’m going tae try to get some sleep.”

“Of course,” Ewan replied.

He was standing an inch from her dressing gown, and she wondered if she should try and grab it. If he stepped on it, he’d surely notice, but if she moved it, he might see it even if he didn’t touch it.

But, instead, he turned ’round and headed for the door.

Once it clicked closed, she popped her head back up. “That was exciting.” She giggled as Keiran held out his good arm to help her up.

“That’s not the word I would use.” His voice was grave but his eyes were soft as he gently led her back into the bed.

“Worried you’ll be stuck with me?” he asked, reading into the sound of his voice, his worry over being caught. Some of her happiness vanished, thinking that he regretted what they had just done.

He pulled her on top of him then, her body landing on his with a thud. “I keep trying to tell ye, ye don’t want to be stuck with me.”

“You’ll hurt yerself,” she chastised playfully, her irritation forgotten at the feel of his body against hers. Without thought, she rubbed her hips against his. “Oh, Keiran,” she gasped as the movement both relieved and intensified the ache.

With his uninjured hand, he pulled at the hem of her night-rail, which had already risen up to her thighs. “Do ye like that,” he rasped in her ear.

“Oh yes.” She moved against him again, but this time he moved his hand between her legs while his fingers found her most intimate place and as they explored her, the sweet torture only intensified. She clung to his shoulders as her head flung back and her hips bucked against his hand.

“Tell me what ye like about it, lass.” His mouth pressed kisses to the column of her neck as his hand began a rhythmic motion that was steadily building the ache inside.

“I like everything.” She gasped. “But I can’t feel enough of your skin. I want more of your touch. I want it harder.” She moaned, and he let out another groan.

“Ye are goin’ to be the death of me.” He growled between gritted teeth, but she couldn’t push out any more words as the tension finally broke inside her.

Riding the wave, she finally slumped against his chest, in a satisfied heap. “That was glorious,” she sighed as she snuggled against him. “I wish we could do it again.”

He didn’t answer, and as her eyes closed, she was sure she would fall asleep right on top of him.

* * *

Keiran knew the moment she drifted off. He let her fall into a deeper slumber, and then he carefully shifted her to his good side.

It had been a mistake to have her in his bed. He’d known it would be. He’d seen glimpses of the passionate woman inside Agnes, but he’d never imagined it would be like that. It had been unimaginably sublime. A woman this kind, loving and passionate was a rare jewel, and he didn’t deserve her.

He’d been able to hold himself off at the inn. He’d been certain she didn’t want him, that she had just wanted to experiment. But when she’d started talking and then touching? It had been more than he could stand. A man had his limits.

But a couple of things were becoming clear. First, he couldn’t let her go; he knew that with absolute certainty. And so they would absolutely be doing this again.

Second, Agnes was an innocent, and she was right—she needed protection. She was not a woman to have a dalliance with, so they would have to marry.

He swallowed down his reservations. He’d have to keep the dark parts of himself hidden deep. And while he may not be able to give her his whole heart, he certainly could provide her and her mother a safe haven in this world. Now that he knew he had something tangible that she needed, it made it easier for him to give in to his need for her.

Everything she wanted would be hers. Dresses, carriages, babies, a warm body to provide pleasure. Everything but his heart.

With his thoughts and his future neatly ordered, he fell into a deep sleep.

As the first rays of the sun peeked into his room, Keiran opened his eyes. The fire had died, but he was delightfully cozy. And while his arm ached, a contentment he hadn’t known for so long had settled about his soul.

Mmmmhhh, is it morning already?” Agnes’s muffled voice vibrated against his neck.

He squeezed her tighter. “It is,” he said as he peppered the crown of her head with kisses. “Agnes, ye have to leave.”

“But I’m so comfortable.” She burrowed in deeper.

“Fine by me.” His hand slid down her back. “It’s not how I wanted to announce our engagement, but it will do.”

Her head shot up then. “Engagement?”

He should have sensed the trouble coming, but her body was pressed to his and his mind was languid. “Yes, engagement. After what we did, it’s the right thing to do.”

She huffed and her breath fanned his face as her hand pressed against his chest. “Right? You want to discuss what is right now?”

“I ken ye think I’m a man without scruples, but

“I didn’t say that.” She pushed herself a little higher.

“Ye’ve called me a rogue, said I wasnae a gentleman.” He was both irritated at her lack of cooperation and her insistence on moving farther away.

“Ye invited me into your bed when we were unmarried.” Her eyebrows rose, daring him to disagree.

“Ye started touching me,” he returned defensively.

“I am an innocent maiden.” She sniffed. “You are the experienced rogue.”

He laughed despite himself. “Ye’re right there, but we should still marry.”

“I’ll consider it,” she answered as she rose from his bed, slipping on her dressing gown and her slippers.

“Consider it?” he sat up too, wincing as he went. Her demeanor immediately changed.

She rushed back to the bed, pushing him back down, plumping pillows, and arranging covers. “You are to stay in bed, do you hear me?” She huffed.

The doorknob rattled again, and Agnes looked up, her eyes wide with fear.

“Stoke the fire, lass,” Keiran mumbled.

She hopped out of bed and tossed on her dressing gown, pulling it tight about her as she crossed to the fire.

Ewan walked in again, but rather than looking upset, his quick glance at Agnes showed he was pleased. “Come to check on the patient already?”

Agnes gave a nod, keeping her eyes on the fire.

Kerian felt a mix of both relief and irritation. Part of him wanted to declare Agnes his while the other would prefer that Ewan not challenge him to duel before he’d healed. “Agnes, Ewan will keep an eye on me.”

She nodded again, and without looking at either of them made her way to the door.

Ewan watched her leave before he pulled a chair up next to Keiran’s bed. “I can sit with ye if ye like.”

Keiran nodded, though he would have greatly preferred that Agnes come back in. Whether they were sparring or kissing, she was always exciting.

Apparently, Ewan was also considering Agnes’s finer qualities. “That is quite a woman. Ye should have seen her yesterday caring fer ye.”

Keiran closed his eyes. “Aye.” Truth be told, it was a fantastic quality, and one he would likely appreciate for the rest of his life if he could convince her to marry him. But right now, he could only think of one of her other finer points. The fact that she was a vixen in disguise.

“And in here first thing this morning, checking on ye.” Ewan leaned forward as if wanting to really make his point. “There is no finer woman that

“Enough, Ewan. Ye’ve convinced me.” Keiran sighed. “It’s Agnes you need to talk to.”

Ewan was quiet for so long that Keiran opened his eyes. Then his friend began laughing. It grew louder and louder until he was clutching his sides. “Ye’re telling me that she’ll reject ye?”

Keiran used his good arm to scratch his head. “She might.” He used the palm of his hand to scrub his face. “She isn’t sure I am chivalrous enough.”

Ewan started laughing again. “Well, it’s hard to deny that.”

“She said they’ve been makin’ their own way, and she needs a man who will care for her.” Keiran took a breath. “I think she worries I won’t be up for the task after the way I acted when we first met.”

Ewan sat back in his chair. “Is that why she’s always going on about gentlemen?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not just about an English bloke with all his dandy manners and neatly pressed cravats? She wants a man who cares for those in his charge?”

“Before I even met her, I failed her.” He scrubbed his face again.

“Keiran, I don’t think yer the man who failed them. I’d asked Clarissa once, why her aunt would agree to chaperone such an arduous journey to Scotland. Clarissa said that if her father asked it, his sister always agreed. But I’m only now realizing it’s because he supports them.”

“Aye, she said as much. And now she says it’s her duty to marry to take the burden off her mother.” He swallowed hard. “But then I went and sat on my damn horse while ye helped them in their need.”

“Ye’re doing a good job of provin’ yerself now.” Ewan patted his shoulder.

Was he? He wasn’t so sure. Even last night seemed to prove her assertions about him. He should have asked her to marry him first and invited her to his bed second. It’s as though he couldn’t get it right no matter how much he tried.

And while he didn’t want to think about the reasons too much, he needed her to marry him. He’d like to say that was so he could protect both her reputation and her future, but somehow he knew that, after last night, he could never let her go to another man. He couldn’t let her go, period.

He closed his eyes again. He’d feel better when she came back to his room.