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“Sleeping with yer own son’s intended is one indecency too many, McDougal!” Seamus, the kin who saw him in diapers, toddling around the gardens, displayed a disappointed look about him, mirrored by his wife’s.
Taran did not miss Aileen and Sam exchange an accomplice glance. They set him up, the idea being hers, without a shadow of doubt.
Infernal witch!
“Sam deserves better than this.” Gracie completed.
“Yes, he does.” Taran agreed, effectively calling off the arrangement, just as the impudent shrew wanted. What else could he do?
The termagant had it coming for her, he promised himself fuming.
She wanted to play this game? Fine, let us play it!
“Now that you have discovered the truth” A smug smile covered his mouth. “Could you, please, give us our due privacy.” His index finger rolled around a silky strand of her shiny hair. “We have… unfinished business here.” The deliberate tone came raspy, intimate. “Do we not, love?” He eyed her with excessive coveting glint.
> The worst of all being he did not pretend. They did have ‘unfinished business’, as of the study, for instance. One he found himself only too eager to ‘finish’.
A choleric glare hurled on him told him he succeeded in turning the tables on her.
“Come, Sam.” Gracie said. “No child should go through this infamous shame.”
Sam cast a rather worried gaze at Aileen. She must have made a sign, for he shrugged and followed Seamus and Gracie out of the room before they closed the door firmly.
Aileen left the bed and walked to the door. It had gone better than anticipated, she concluded relieved. Sam undertook the task of bringing the middle-aged couple as witnesses to bust the intractable man’s plans. She would leave here free to go on with her life at last. He tried to embarrass her with his insinuations, but it constituted a small price to pay for her autonomy.
It had been a little awkward to meet Seamus again in this… circumstances. After all, she had placed a knife on his throat and a pistol on his head the day the intractable troglodyte abducted her. It had been a fair fight and she would not apologise for it.
“Where do you think you are going?” The grave growl stopped her in her tracks.
She pirouetted a winning grin to him. “Home.” And started to the door again.
“No, you are not.” An order that demanded no contestation.
His feet abandoned the bed to go to the floor. The coverlet fell from his torso as his back faced her. A broad back. A naked back. The expanse of tanned skin, bunched muscles and sinew propelled her heart sky high.
Until this minute, she gave no thought to the way he slept. Because if she did, she did not imagine how she would have behaved during the night. Not properly, for sure, despite her nervousness.
Then, he stood up from it. Blast me! Perfect buttocks and powerful hair-peppered long legs assaulted her senses in the morning light coming from the window in front of him.
She broke a sweat.
He fished his red and black tartan from a chair nearby and wrapped it around his waist. Only. When he pivoted to her, her mouth dried. Thick neck, taut chest sprinkled with dark hair funnelling down his muscled abdomen to hide under the tartan together with other certainly… interesting parts of him.
She was speechless.
In vain attempt to clear her head, she shook it, as her gaze snapped to his. To clash with a knowing expression. He realised exactly what she was doing. Drooling over him like a ninny.
“Your plan failed in case you have not noticed.” She challenged, chin lifting.
“What?” His square stubble jaw jerked to her nightgown. Thin nightgown. “You mean to go away ruined?” His intense green beams did not spare her as she had not him. They sauntered over her in minutiae appreciation. Hot flush tinted her skin.
She felt naked.
“I am not ruined!” She countered. Nothing happened.
“No?” He crossed his strong arms over the expanse of masculine chest. “Tongues will not go wagging from here to Edinburgh, then.”
“Of course, not.” Her brows pleated with the absurd idea. “This is the middle of nowhere.” Despite her love for the Highlands, the truth could not be denied.
