Devil's Own

“Just because I don’t have spectacles! I have, I have …” She huffed, putting hands on hips, looking like she was trying to come up with a list of belongings. “I have things.”



“Aye, if you count chores to do and bills to pay.” He took in the sight of her ratty shawl and her faded skirts.



“It’s not just the spectacles. When was the last time you had yourself a new dress?”



Looking suddenly forlorn, she glanced down at her muddied hem. “What’s the matter with my dress?”



“You should be in finest satin, but your father has you pinching every penny.”



He regretted the dismay on her face—he was the last man to care about a silly frock—and altered course. “All I’m saying is, you seem always to put your father first. But you’re not a child anymore. You’re old enough to deserve the things that you want, that you need.”



“Old enough? Are you calling me a spinster?”



Spinster indeed. With the sparks in her eyes and the blood in her cheeks, Elspeth was beautiful. Like a doe who’d stood frozen only to spring to glorious life. “Spinster is the last word I’d use to describe you, luvvie,” he said with cold laughter in his voice.



“Don’t you dare laugh.” She swatted his arm, but slipped on the slick terrain. She had to grab his shirtsleeves to steady herself, looking the angrier for it. “Folk have laughed, discounted, misunderstood, overlooked, and disregarded me quite enough.” Clenching her fingers, she gave his arms a shove. “Quite enough.”



“I’ve never discounted you, Beth.” He nodded at one of her hands. “Your strength, however, leaves much to be desired.”



“You maddening, maddening …” She shoved again, and this time when she slipped, he caught her about her waist.



He cocked a brow. “Mule?”



She held still, and when she spoke again, her voice was small. “I know you’re used to well-to-do women. Women who wear rich silks and feathers in their hair. I know I’m not as fancy, or as well spoken—”



He gave her waist a squeeze. “You don’t seem to be having any trouble speaking now. And trust me,” he said, with an exaggerated shudder. “As for those other women, I’ve little use for fancy.”



“But I can’t believe you … you …” Her shoulders fell. “Aidan, you disparaged my clothing.”



He laughed outright, teasing a reluctant smile from her.



She gave him one last good-natured shove. “I told you not to—oh!” She lost her footing and tumbled into him.



Aidan caught her in an embrace, but the weight of her body propelled against him was too much. He fell backward, landing on the mucky path with a dull splat, Elspeth lying atop him belly to belly.



His laughter was unchecked now, and he wiped drops of mud from her cheek while he gathered himself. “Are you happy, Beth? My clothes are now muddier than yours.”



She tried to roll off. “Oh, good heavens. I am so sorry.”



He only hugged her closer. “Nonsense. This serves my purposes quite nicely, because I’ll not free you until I believe that you’ve listened. Elspeth Farquharson, you’re more well spoken, more thoughtful, gentler, and lovelier by far than any of those damned plantation women. So please tell me I’ve heard the last of them from out of that mouth.”



He glanced at her lips to underscore his point, but it was a mistake. Those lips were gently parted, looking long overdue for a kiss. Not to mention that the most charming mud spatter had graced her chin.



Aidan nestled her higher along his body, and the softness of her breasts on his chest was sweet torture. It was all he could do not to roll her and take her innocence there in the mud.



Not surprisingly, Elspeth remained unaware of her predicament. “I know you tire of it,” she said, “but it’s just …” Finally, his words seemed to register. Tilting her head, she gave Aidan a quizzical look. “Did you say lovelier?”



“I think I said ‘lovelier by far.’ ” He could no longer fight it. The feel of her body on his held a promise too sweet to deny. Elspeth was guileless and pure, and the devil curse him, but he wanted a taste. He swept his hands down her back, resting just above the slope of her bottom. “Though I can think of one way in which you’re deficient.”



Eyes wide, she asked, “You can?”



“Aye, Beth. I daresay, you’ve never been kissed.”



Chapter 18



Elspeth could only stare, not trusting her ears.



Aidan shifted, his fingers splaying over the uppermost curve of her rump. She felt them through the too-thin fabric of her skirts, and then felt an answering hum between her legs.



He studied her from beneath a furrowing brow. “Might I?”



She couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d fallen on him like a clumsy oaf, but when she’d tried to get back up, he’d only hugged her closer. And now her heart was pounding too loudly in her chest to make sense of it all. “Might you what?”



She waited for him to toss it all off with a laugh and a wink. But instead his voice became a husky whisper. “Kiss you, Beth.”



Longing burst through her with a wild intensity. She wanted only to hear that voice in her ear, whispering dark things, his secret wishes conveyed on hot breath along her skin. “Yes, I wish you woul—”



He touched his lips to hers. They were soft, barely pressed on her closed mouth.



She breathed Aidan in and held the scent of him in her lungs, wishing he might never separate from her. But he did. Too soon he pulled away.



She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with a look so tender it filled her with a rush of feelings, all strangely new. For the first time, she felt seen, and known, and safe, and wanted.



But most of all, Elspeth felt bold.



She let go her hand from where she’d gripped his shirt. He stiffened for a moment, but when she laid it back down on his face, cupping his cheek, she sensed the muscles in his neck and shoulders relax.



Did it mean he was as unsure as she? Aidan was so confident, such an exhilarating rogue of a man, she couldn’t fathom that he might be as uncertain of her feelings as she was of his.



She stroked his jaw, savoring the strange, rough feel of beard stubble under her thumb, thinking of all the places she’d longed to touch him. And now here she was, over him, able to touch him where she would. His jaw, his brow, down his cheek, to the corner of his mouth.



He didn’t stop her. He only watched with an avid attention that deepened her pulse until it became a dull throb throughout her body.



Looking at her as he did, Aidan made her feel precious. In his arms, she was a goddess, like Aphrodite. Or Hera, the queen of them all.



“Might I?” she asked, in the barest whisper.



His blue eyes were intent on her. “Might you what?”



“Might I take a turn kissing you?” She traced his lower lip with her finger, and his answering groan made her feel like a woman in a way she’d never known before.



They came together, hard this time, each leading the kiss as much as the other. His breath changed, quickening, and it stirred her to a hunger so profound she thought she might burst from it.



They kissed, lying in the mud, with hungry mouths and questing hands, and she felt the rightness of all the books, and all the poems, that claimed that anger and passion were two sides of the same coin. For he’d made her so angry, yet now she thought she might not rest until she could consume him utterly.



She’d thought she wanted just one kiss—had hoped that her first kiss might suffice as her last. But she knew differently now. Elspeth wanted Aidan, wanted more, wanted it all.



Eventually they separated, and cupping her face close, he stared. “Beth, I … you…” A laugh escaped him. “It appears now I’m the one left speechless.” He traced a languorous finger down her throat to a spot just above her décolletage. “What other secrets do you keep tucked in that silent breast?”



Knowing she’d tell him everything, give him anything, she placed an earnest hand over his. “I wouldn’t keep a secret from you.”



“No, Elspeth.” He gave her a quiet smile. “I don’t imagine you would.”



After a moment, he squeezed her hand then let go. Bringing his hand to her face, he dragged his thumb along her lips, all traces of amusement gone. “Definitely beautiful.”



“What?” she asked, not understanding.



He searched her eyes. “Before, I couldn’t decide what sort of pretty you were. But you’re not merely pretty, you’re beautiful. I see that now. How is it everyone doesn’t see?”



Self-conscious, she tried to look away, but with a finger, he turned her face back to his. “I think it’s because you stay so quiet, hiding yourself away.” He gently traced a thumb over her brow. “But these eyes, they see everything. Did you know they’re flecked with gold?”



She shook her head, mesmerized by his words. She’d never thought overmuch about her eyes.



“Well, they are,” he said. “I’ve never seen the like. They’re light but not pale, as though you’ve a fairy’s eyes, able to see into the hearts of men.”



It was almost too much, this attention. Her deepest fantasies come true, and yet nearly unbearable, a pleasure so piquant as to demand respite. She broke the moment with a smile. “Now will you let me read your papers?”



He chuckled, quick with his answer. “Now, especially, I won’t.”



She contemplated this man beneath her. He posed as a loner. Cold and detached, he kept himself a stranger to all, and yet she felt she knew his heart. “You don’t scare me, you know.”



“That’s what I’m afraid of.” His trademark light good humor replaced the gravity in his expression. Aidan’s hands roved along her back, thumbs edging recklessly inward, until his palms cradled the sides of her torso. “Though hopefully there are other feelings I rouse.”