“What iswhore?” she asked.
He frowned at that. “It’s nae a nice word to apply to a woman. Ye’re a woman, ye ken. I’m a man.” He tapped his chest.
“Woman.” She tapped her breast. “Man.” She tapped his knee. “Whore?” She queried again.
“A prostitute. A woman who sleeps with a man for money.” His gestures made his meaning clear.
“Ah! Jìnu!” she nodded.As I thought.
She pointed to the portrait. “Who is she?”
A shadow fell across his face as he looked at the portrait, and his expression softened into longing and pain. “My wife, Catriona.” He linked his fingers. “My wife, ye ken?”
She nodded. “Wife.” She touched his knee gently. “She die?”
“Aye. Six years gone.”
Aihan’s heart leapt and pulsed with a sympathetic ache at the patent sorrow in his tone and expression. He must have loved this woman very much.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Aye, thank ye,” he said with a shake of his head.
She gestured to the portrait. “Sons, Rory, Ca’um?”
“Aye, they miss her too.”
She nodded.The boys need a mother. Mac needs a lover. The house needs cleaning.Perfect. She would start with the house. She rose to her feet, which drew Mac to his feet also. She didn’t miss the bulge in his breeches. An answering pulse tugged between her legs. “I clean, you teach,” she said, firmly repressing her desire to reach out and touch him. She would leave that until his need of her was so strong it would overwhelm his reason. It shouldn’t take long. He was ripe already. And so was she.
He stared at her a moment, an expression in his eyes she couldn’t interpret. Then he did something that startled her. He took her hand and kissed it. “Thank ye, lass.” The jolt of his touch made her catch her breath.Yes, soon. Very soon.
She bowed her head in acknowledgement and left the room to go in search of cleaning cloths and a bucket.
Col watched her leave with a strange ache in his chest and a hot bloom in his breeches. There was something about her that cut to the quick of him. She looked fragile, yet she was as tough asleather boots and strong as tempered steel. He’d been plagued again last night by a rush of desire that wouldn’t be denied. Fortunately, he was alone and could assuage it with his hand. It left him wrung out and wanting. For the first time since Cat passed, he wanted physical touch with a ravening hunger that scared him witless.
When Aihan touched his knee just now, his cock had stiffened like a poker in his breeches. Her clean scent, with a hint of lavender from the soap he’d left her, curled into his blood and made it course hot and heavy in his veins. He couldn’t pretend to himself he didn’t want her, fiercely. Equally, he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t glad she was staying. He’d promised himself if she chose to go, he wouldn’t try to stop her. But he acknowledged he’d have been hard-pressed not to.
He’d walloped Rory for his whore comment, but if he was honest, he was thinking of making her one with his lewd desire. His leman, anyway, for as long as she’d stay. Taking her to bed and assuaging his hunger. Making her feel good. He swallowed the saliva in his mouth at the notion and groaned aloud. Fuck, he was a mess! He turned to look up at Cat’s portrait. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered.
Her warm dark eyes smiled down at him. The artist had captured her luminous beauty, her creamy skin, and her dark wavy hair that fell like a curtain round her shoulders in bed and enveloped them both. Her luscious lips and enchanting smile. How could he think of anyone but her?
Could any two women be more different? Cat was small of stature too, but much more sturdily built, with generous curves and a ripe, luscious beauty that had felled him practically on sight. There was nothing fragile about Cat; she had dominated a room with her graceful presence, her sunny laughter, and her peaceful demeanour.
And yet—there were similarities. Both were strong women, physically and emotionally. Both were practical and hardworking. And both pulled at him with a desire that threatened to bring him to his knees. He sat down abruptly, those knees giving out as he contemplated just how strong his attraction towards the tiny Chinese lass was. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was stronger than anything he’d felt for Cat. But surely that was just the effect of abstinence?I’ve been without so long . . . .
He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to beat back the waves of desire battering at him. It was no use: He had to do something about it, or he couldn’t function sensibly. He got up, locked the door, and sat down again to take himself in hand and fix it, for the moment at least.
Chapter Nine
“What are they?” asked Rory, poking at the little parcels of soft white dough on his plate.
“Pork buns,” said Aihan. “Try,” she said, picking one up off her plate and taking a bite. “Good!” she said round her mouthful.
Col hid a smile at Rory’s expression and took a cautious bite of his own bun. The soft, light dough was slightly chewy and sweet, and hidden in the centre was a pocket of crumbly sweet and savoury meat that was quite tasty.
He nodded and smiled at Aihan. “Good,” he agreed.
Fergus manfully took a bite, and his bushy eyebrows went up when he got the flavour of the meat. “Verra guid, lassie,” he growled.
