He was weary from sleeping in the drizzly mountains with nothing to keep him dry but an oiled tarpaulin. Robert’s shoulders sagged when he finally walked in the front door of Moriston Hall. They’d marched the tinkers down the slopes of the Highlands and around the banks of Loch Ness at a snail’s pace. Thankfully the blighters were now tucked away in the wee gaol built out the back of the stables by his grandfather. The chieftain of Clan Grant’s word was law throughout the district, though it had oft been encroached upon by government dragoons of late.
We’d all be better off if Parliament returned to Edinburgh. Nary a Scotsman was in favor of the queen’s abolishment of the Scottish assembly seven years past. Worse, the aristocracy was forced to travel to London whenever the houses were called to session. England upped the taxes on Scottish goods and took her landowners away from their homes far too many months of the year.
As he passed the drawing room, the mantel clock chimed midnight. He removed his sword belt and climbed the stairs, his every footfall echoing as if the house were empty.
In the corridor he paused for a moment outside Janet’s door, his hand itching to turn the knob. And then his jaw dropped when the door opened of its own volition.
“Robert? You’ve returned.” Janet’s eyes glistened like sapphires in the shadows.
“I have.” His gaze dipped lower. She wore only a linen shift with an arisaid draped about her shoulders and clutched at her long, slender neck—he pictured his lips tasting her there. And the picture was made only more enticing by the waves of golden tresses cascading clear down to her waist. “But you should be abed,” he said. “’Tis late.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Suddenly Robert didn’t feel like sleeping, either. He leaned on the doorjamb. “Is it your arm?”
“Actually, it has been feeling better of late.” Her gaze meandered down his chest and back up. “I’m surprised you’ve returned so soon. Did you find the thieves?”
“We found a mob of a half-dozen tinkers, but I doubt they had the wherewithal to steal six and sixty head of cattle.”
“Do they know who the culprits were?”
“Said they didn’t, though I tossed them in a cell to help jog their memory.”
“They’re here?”
“Locked up out back.”
“Are they cold? Hungry? Do they need blankets?”
“Och, they’re prisoners, lass, not bloody guests.”
“Well, I’d like to visit them on the morrow. No one should suffer the cold, no matter how lowly born.”
“Or how far he’s fallen.” Sighing, Robert snatched a lock of her hair and twirled it around his finger. If only he were on a bed with her silken locks spread across his bare chest.
“I want to show you something.” She ducked inside and retrieved a book from the table, then handed it to him. “I thought I’d do some reading and found this in the library.”
He opened the cover and chuckled. “Look at that. I’d forgotten about Da’s hazard dice.”
“He added an inscription to the book—remove at your peril.”
“Aye, to dissuade any sticky fingers from helping themselves.”
“Is that why he hid them?”
“Nay. He kept them hidden from my mother.”
“She didn’t approve of gambling, I take it.”
“Nor should you.”
“Then I blame you for your scandalous influence.”
He winced. “Apologies.”
“No apology needed.” Biting her bottom lip, she tapped the book with her finger. “So, what do you say? Shall we partake in a few wicked rolls of the dice afore we retire?”
Robert’s knees wobbled but he cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. Bugger the dice; God save him, he wanted to roll with the lass.
He started moving inside her chamber, but she placed her hand on his chest—a very warm, inviting hand. “Might we venture to the library?”
Damnation. “Ah…how about the parlor? The furniture is far more comfortable.” Especially the settee, where he could sit alongside the lady, perhaps with their thighs touching. More if I’m lucky.
“Very well. Give me a moment to don a proper dress.”
His shoulder twitched up. “Och, no one will see you at this hour.”
Leaning forward, she peered up and down the corridor. “Are you certain?”
“Positive.” He offered his elbow, and to his astonishment she placed her dainty fingers around it without another objection. Together they walked side by side down the stairs.
“What shall we wager this time?” she asked.
He opened the door to the parlor, led her inside, closed it, and set to lighting the candles. “I have an idea.”
She sat on the settee, exactly where he wanted her. “Yes?”
“You are quite talented at kissing.” He slipped into the seat beside her…his thigh snug against hers. “We could wager kisses.”
Covering her mouth with her fingers, Janet turned scarlet. “Sir, you are brash.”
“We’ve kissed before. I rather enjoyed it, and if I had to guess, you enjoyed kissing me as well.”
“I’ll not lie, but we mustn’t.”
He slid a finger along her forearm. “Whyever not?”
Her breath caught as those brilliant blue eyes met his gaze. He raised her chin with the crook of his finger. “A wee kiss never hurt a soul.” His heart thrummed faster while he slowly savored her beauty, lowering his lips until he plied her mouth with a single peck. “See,” he growled. “That was not so wicked.”
“I beg to differ. I daresay even a simple kiss from you is unquestionably wicked.” Her eyelids fluttered closed as she puckered her lips, clearly wanting more.
But she might be even more tempted if they played the game he planned—one he couldn’t lose. Taking the book, he removed the cup, plunked in the dice, and rolled them. “I call six for the main.”
She leaned forward and examined the dice. “Twelve.”
“Nicks.”
“I have a feeling luck is with you this night.”
He shifted a hand to her waist. “I do believe you are right.”
Her lips parted, making her look more tempting than an apple tart fresh from the oven. Powerless to resist, Robert captured her mouth in a searing kiss, hot enough to melt his very bones. With a wee moan, she slid lithe fingers up his chest. Och aye, she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Growing more daring, he trailed kisses to her neck. Janet’s back arched as she leaned in to him. The arisaid slipped from her shoulders, revealing ample breasts hiding beneath the thin linen shift. A shadow of dark circles enticed him, the buds of her nipples straining against the cloth and begged to be suckled. His lips traveled lower, and he tugged the tiny ribbon at the shift’s scooped neckline.
“Good Lord,” she said breathlessly. “You mustn’t…’Tis my turn.”
Bugger the game. “I’m not yet finished claiming my prize,” he growled, spreading open the linen and beholding pure perfection. “My God, you are divine.”
“But—” He lapped her nipple with his tongue. “I-I may swoon.”
His cock stood at attention, already leaking seed as he kneaded and kissed her breasts. Breasts that should be worshiped and loved morning and night. Breasts that were too perfect for words. Breasts he needed to kiss and suckle over and over again.
“Please, Robert.”
Relenting, he gave each breast one last kiss and sat back.
“You push me too far,” she said, closing her shift but not tying it. “I call fives,” she declared, while Robert’s cock throbbed beneath the folds of his kilt. He was surprised she hadn’t decided against playing, slapped him across the face, and marched up the stairs.
It took her two rolls to make nicks—her turn. Arching her eyebrows, she faced him, her gaze meandering to his shirt. “Are a man’s nipples as sensitive as a woman’s?”
Again a pulse of desire thrummed through his member. “Why don’t you kiss me there and find out?” He untied his lace and pulled the shirt out from under his waistband and over his head. His nipples hardened at the mere sound of her gasp.
A primitive growl caught in his throat as her silken finger caressed him. Her touch brought his flesh alive, tingling with the slightest contact as she drew him into her spellbinding web. She drew a line from the center of his chest down below his navel and toyed with the tuft of hair leading beneath his kilt. “You have more hair than I imagined.”
“And there’s even more where that wee line leads.”
By the way her eyes grew dark, she was curious, but she snapped her finger away, leaned forward, and kissed his nipple as if she were kissing a bairn on the forehead. “Och, is that all?” he asked. For the love of God, he’d led her to the fountain, the least she could do was drink.
She gave him a sober look, though a wee bit of mischief twinkled in her eye. “I’m just starting out…planning my mode of attack, if you will.”
Then, like a woman accustomed to the wiles of the boudoir, she took his nipple in her mouth and teased him with tongue and gently nipping teeth. By the time she came up for air, Robert was leaning back on the settee and panting as if he were the one being seduced, his cock as hard as the steel hilt of his sword. Given Janet’s present state of undress, all it would take was a few flicks of his fingers and she’d be naked. He could take her right there in the parlor.
But I cannot.
I must not take her innocence. Doing so will incite a bloody war against Glenmoriston lands, and I will not risk the lives of my clan no matter how much I want her.
Still, he picked up the dice and rolled again. Janet won the next two rounds, and by the time she finished kissing him like a conquering lover, Robert was as hard as marble and on the verge of throwing caution to the wind. When he finally won again, he crawled over her like a fox stalking its prey. “There’s one more place that needs to be kissed, lass.”
He slid to his knees and wedged his shoulders between her legs.
Janet shoved her hands downward. “Oh no.”
“Oh aye.” He tugged up the linen, exposing her calves. “’Tis my turn to drive you mad. Deliciously, rapturously, stark raving mad.”
* * *
Janet couldn’t remember how she’d ended up on the settee with Robert’s face between her knees, her bottom half naked and utterly prone to him.
Heaven help her, his tongue turned her wanton as he swirled it along her thighs.
“Och, ye smell like heaven,” he growled.
“But—”
“Wheesht.”
Janet grabbed the armrest as her back sank into the settee. Robert watched her while his tongue worked magic. With a devilish chuckle, he lapped his tongue right over the most secret part of her body. She gave a wee gasp as her thighs shuddered. “Mercy,” she cried, arching her back.
But the rogue was ruthless in his attack. His fingers swirled in tandem with his wicked tongue. Janet gasped again when his finger slid inside her. Her core was wet and slick, and he worked his finger back and forth as he continued his merciless kissing.
Her eyes rolled back, and her hips began rocking in tandem with the escalation of desire—a craving low in her belly demanding more, threatening to send her to the brink of insanity if he dared to stop. His finger worked faster. Stars darted through her vision. Her breath came in short gasps, the mounting tension making her buck.
“No more,” she whimpered, afraid his promise to drive her mad had not been in jest. As the words slipped past her lips, the rumble of his chuckle reverberated in her flesh. He swirled his tongue faster, matching the rhythm of his relentless finger. Unable to utter a coherent word, Janet gasped and tossed her head from side to side as he drove her body’s need higher and higher, making her crave more and more. “Don’t stop! Please!”
Then, all at once, her eyes flew open, and a cry caught her throat as her body shattered. Stars shot through her vision while she tried to catch her breath. Her breasts heaved as if she’d just run a footrace. Finally she gained enough control to gaze down at Robert’s face, the predatory look in his eyes unmistakable.
“What happened? Have I gone mad?”
“Nay. You’ve experienced a sampling of what it is like to lie with a man.”
“A sampling?” She glanced down to his loins, knowing full well what lay beneath—wanting more, but knowing such an act would ruin her for the rest of her days.
“Aye, but I reckon we’ve played enough hazard for one night.” Sliding beside Janet, he wrapped her in his embrace and kissed her temple. “I could hold ye here forever.”