Scot of My Dreams (22 page)

“Horny laird.”

I clapped my hand over my mouth to smother a squeak of laughter. I didn’t want to be discovered.

Bryce put his hands lightly on my shoulders, his thumbs tracing my collarbone. “I’m going to enjoy taking this dress off of you.”

All the air left my lungs in one mighty swoosh. “I thought you liked it,” I croaked.

His hands slid lower, cupping each of my silk-wrapped breasts. My nipples beaded instantly. “I do like it, lass. You’re a dark angel tonight, an incandescent, sexual being drawing men like bees to the hive. But I like knowing I’ll be the only one touching what’s underneath that red gown.”

I shivered. My breathing grew shallow. “That sounds very possessive.”

He scraped the sensitive nubs with a fingernail. “Are you complaining?”

“No,” I sighed, collapsing into his embrace. “Not at all.”

Like a highly calibrated racecar engine, the romantic moment went from soft and romantic to carnal and desperate in seconds. Zero to sixty. The wicked whiplash of desire left me shattered and utterly defenseless.

Bryce bent me over his arm, kissing me like a mad man. The suave, highly sophisticated laird had disappeared. In his place was the man I first met in my bed. The skilled lover. The wily seducer. The deliciously inventive partner in carnal crime.

My dress was not a suit of armor. It was designed for a man to find easy access. In the blink of an eye, Bryce slid the top portion to my waist. He paused to stare at his handiwork, his chest heaving. “You’re exquisite, my Willow.”

The rough timbre of his voice stroked every yearning cell of my body. When he bent his head to taste me, I moaned. I couldn’t help it. No man had ever made me feel so much, so fast. Bryce’s lovemaking showed me a whole new side of myself. I had filled my life with work and more work, never knowing what I was missing.

I needed a man like Bryce to keep me balanced. To remind me that sex and love were not optional add-ons. They were the deepest, most exquisite gifts I had ever been given.

Though I had no clue what time it was, I did understand that Bryce was neglecting his own party. But I honestly didn’t know if I had the strength to share him right now. I wanted to be selfish. I yearned to revel in the feel of his hands and his mouth on my bare skin.

Five more minutes
, I told myself. Five more minutes. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask. Inside the ballroom, the wine still flowed freely, in addition to the punch, so I knew that many of the guests might scarcely notice their host’s absence. Even so, my guilt increased.

“Are you wearing anything underneath that kilt?” I dared to ask.

“Nay, lass. What about you?”

I thought of the narrow band of silk and lace that masqueraded as my underwear. “Nothing to speak of.”

Abruptly, he set me aside. An impressive, impassioned string of Gaelic curses tumbled from his lips. Though I didn’t know the language, the tone conveyed plenty.

His fists clenched on his bare knees. An unmistakable erection tented the front of his kilt. “God in heaven, Willow. You make me feel like a randy boy with naught on his mind but rutting.”

“Are ye complainin’, my laird?” I asked, feigning a Scottish accent to make him laugh. “We could be quick about it.”

“Damn it, woman. Don’t tempt me.”

I froze, knowing I was being unfair to the both of us. “Go,” I said urgently. “Go back to the party. I’ll follow you in a few minutes.”

“Are ye mad? I can’t waltz in there like this.”

“Oh.” Fair point. “Then it should be me.” I stood up and tugged at my dress until it once again covered me respectably. “How does my hair look?”

“A bit ruffled. But I like it.”

“Men.” I ran my fingers through it. “Maybe I’ll slip up to my room for repairs.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“If ye do that, I’d be bound to follow you.”

My knees wobbled. I sat down hard on the bench. He wasn’t kidding. The image of the two of us moving lazily beneath my sheets while the party went on without us made me breathless.

“Okay,” I whispered. “The party it is.”

I jumped up and fled through the garden, pausing only once when a branch snagged my dress. Fortunately, I was able to free myself without damage. When I came upon the area where the pre-dinner socializing had occurred, I stopped and smoothed my skirts. I was breathing too hard.

After a few moments of visualizing a serene mountain lake, I decided I was calm enough to go back inside. Unfortunately, literally the first person I bumped into was Abigail.

She eyed me with raised brows. “Someone’s been having fun.”

I smoothed my hair self-consciously. “I don’t know what you mean. I was getting too hot, so I went outside for a few minutes.”

“Of course you did.” Her sly smile made me want to squirm, but I wasn’t about to confirm her suspicions.

The partygoers had thinned, though the dance floor was still crowded. Thanks to Abby, I spent the next hour dancing nonstop. One after another, she introduced me to charming men who twirled me and talked to me and paid me outrageous compliments.

Was the male of the species able to pick up on some weird sort of pheromones that let them know a woman was aroused? Not that I gave a fig about any of my dance partners, not in a sexual way. But I certainly was popular all of a sudden.

Of course, that could always be blamed on the alcohol being consumed and the late hour.

I worried about Bryce. It was a good thirty minutes before he made his reappearance in the great hall. After that, my relief was tempered with annoyance as he danced his way through a line-up of beautiful, sexy women, all of whom seemed delighted to spend time with the laird.

Bryce was only playing his role. He was the host…the founder of the feast. But did he have to enjoy himself so damn much? His laugh rang out time and again across the room.

Forcing myself to abandon my covert spy operation, I turned my attention to Abigail, who was out on the floor again. Unless I was mistaken, she had danced with Roger no less than five times. And that was even not counting the fact that I had been out in the garden for an extended period.

At last, the band played the final song of the evening. Bryce announced the total of the monies raised for charity and received a roar of approval in return. The amount made my eyes bug out.

After that, the crowd began to say their goodnights and find their way home.

I yawned without meaning to and glanced around, hoping no one had noticed. With fewer people in the hall, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore Bryce.

He caught my eye time and again, his enigmatic smile making me want to drag him away from his many female admirers. Perhaps I should go upstairs and shower. But on the other hand, I felt sexy and daring in my dress. So I stayed.

Bryce never asked me to dance again. I could have let my feelings be hurt by that omission, but I was pretty sure he was avoiding me for a very good reason.

While Bryce and Abigail were saying goodbye to the last of the guests, I escaped to my room. The nice thing about being a comfortably well-to-do laird was that you didn’t have to clean up after your own party.

My feet hurt. I kicked off my heels and flexed my toes with a grimace. I couldn’t remember the last time I spent so many consecutive hours in dressy shoes. I was definitely out of practice.

In the bathroom, I examined my reflection in the mirror. Not bad after a marathon party. I spent a few minutes fluffing my hair and making sure my mascara wasn’t smudged.

The waiting was killing me. Never a patient person on the best of days, I found myself getting bent out of shape. I should put a note on my door. Tell Bryce I had gone to bed.

Of course, knowing him, he would knock until I gave up and answered. He might even let himself in. After all, it
was
his house. The old saying ‘a man’s home is his castle’ took on whole new meaning in Scotland.

Fortunately for my state of mind, a quiet knock sounded at my door a half hour past midnight. I yanked it open only to find Abigail on the other side.

She burst out laughing. Apparently I hadn’t done a very good job masking my dismay.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “He’ll be up in a minute.”

“Who will?” I asked in a last ditch effort to be discreet.

“Oh, come on, Willow. You don’t have to pretend with me. When you and Bryce were out on the dance floor tonight, the room could have caught on fire and neither of you would have noticed.”

I decided to plead the fifth on that one. “Did you and Roger have a nice time?”

My red herring worked. Her cheeks went pink and her eyes sparkled. “Yes,” she said softly. “He’s invited me out to dinner next weekend.”

I hugged her gently. “That’s wonderful. Take things a day at a time. Life is easier that way.”

Did I have it in me to heed my own advice?

She nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Willow.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, suddenly remembering what had bothered her in the weeks past. “Were you able to reconnect with all your friends?”

“Yes. Everyone was very kind. And even though I knew that they knew what happened to me, it was okay.”

“I’m glad.”

She gave me a small wave as she disappeared into her own suite. I closed my door and felt a jolt of pain when I realized that by the time Roger and Abigail’s dinner date rolled around next weekend, I would be long gone. Breathless and sad, I sat on the edge of the bed and buried my face in my hands.

I was not going to tell Bryce how I felt. He had already done so much for me: shared his home, introduced me to the Highlands. And now he had promised to bail me out of my financial mess. It was hardly fair of me to embarrass him with a declaration that would make him uncomfortable.

He was a man of the world. If he wanted me to stay, he would have told me. This brief chapter of my life was coming to an end.

All I had left was tonight. But that was enough.

When the next knock came, the clock on my bedside table read almost one a.m. I opened the door and smiled at Bryce. “I was about to give up on you.”

He groaned, moving past me and shrugging out of his jacket. “Do ye mind if I get comfortable?”

“Not at all.” I watched, dry-mouthed, as he unbuckled his belt and sporran and laid them aside.

He pulled the small ceremonial knife from its resting place and handed me the leather scabbard. “Toss that on the dresser, will you, lass?” Next, he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks. Now he stood before me clad only in his kilt and billowy white shirt. A pirate laird come to pillage and plunder.

I held up my hand. “That’s enough. I want a chance to enjoy this side of you. I haven’t seen you in a kilt since the first day we met.”

Moving toward me, he grinned, giving me a bad attack of goosebumps. “That was a grand day, Willow. One I’ll not soon forget.”

My smile didn’t falter. “Nor I.”

He glanced at the bed. Then back at me. “I feel a bit grubby to be coming to a lady’s arms. I thought about taking a shower, but I was afraid to make you wait too long.”

“I have a shower here.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “True.”

Retrofitting a several centuries old castle could be done, but the outcome was not necessarily up to twenty-first standards of luxury. My tub was an old porcelain affair on claw feet. The shower curtain surrounded it entirely. A hand-held sprayer hung from a hook on the shower rod.

“We could share.”

His blue eyes darkened. “That’s verra kind of you.”

“You’ve had a long day. I might even wash your back.”

He laughed, but his chuckle was hoarse. “Sweet Willow. My back is way down the list.”

As I turned red at his plain speaking, he spun me around and lowered my zipper. “You don’t know how many hours I’ve waited to get you out of this thing.”

“I love this dress. Don’t be rude.” When the silk started to fall, I held my hands to my chest, trapping the fabric, shielding my breasts from his hungry gaze. “We’ll take turns. You may remove your shirt now.”

He gave me a mock bow. “As the lady wishes.”

If I thought I had the upper hand for a moment, it didn’t last. When Bryce pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, I trembled. His chest was lightly tanned, taut-skinned, warm and sleek.

I summoned my inner smart-ass. “Oh, my. I feel faint.”

“You’ll pay for that,” he said. His grin promised retribution even more than his words.

So there we stood, me in my undies, half-wearing an evening gown; Bryce in a kilt and nothing else.

“Shall we adjourn to the other room?” I asked.

“Not until you lose that dress.”

“Very well.” He had seen me naked before. I don’t know why this time was any different, but it was. Holding my arms out to the side, I let the dress fall to my ankles.

Bryce paled, his gaze fixed on my narrow, black-lace bikini panties. “I can help with that last bit,” he said, a quiver in his words.

“Feel free.”

When his hands settled on my hips, I found myself at eye level with his aristocratic chin. I nipped it with my teeth.

“Damn it, woman,” he said, “Hold still.” Carefully, he hooked his thumbs inside my undies and slid them down my legs. Now I was completely naked. Bryce looked his fill, but he didn’t touch me anymore than necessary.

I crossed my arms beneath my breasts. “I’ll let you do the kilt. I don’t want to mess it up.”

His lips quirked. “Wouldn’t want that.” Rapidly, he unfastened the single pin. In a flash, the tartan fabric went the way of my dress.

I had spent a lot of hours imagining this moment. Now that it was here, paralysis gripped me. “The tub’s not very big.”

“We’ll manage.”

It was my room, but I let the laird take the lead. I expected him to take me in his arms and hold me close, but he surprised me at every turn. Linking his fingers with mine, he led me into the bathroom and made me wait while he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature.

“Come here, Willow. I won’t bite.”

He was teasing me, but I was ridiculously scared. Not of Bryce, never of him. But of the way my heart jumped out of my chest and into his keeping. All he had to do was raise one eyebrow and I melted.