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She would give her most valuable possession to reach for him. A fantasy of her placing her palms on his bare knees to graze them up under his tartan and caress the hair roughened skin until her fingers closed around—
Great! Now her cheeks flamed with a colour unmistakably akin to arousal.
Her treacherous imagination did not stop because she saw herself going on her knees to take him hungrily in her—
“Excuse me.” She croaked, eyes darting everywhere but him.
“Why, Aileen.” The rasp coarse. “You do not seem that eager to leave.”
Empty lungs sucked in air. “Do not start, Taran.” She warned.
His scrutiny burned her entire skin. “Actually, I want to… finish.” A pause for her blood to scorch. “In a very specific spot.”
The spot in question swelled and overflowed. This was so unfair! It would favour her if the man had not been so compelling.
“Is that so?” The inane question the unique thing her scattered brain became able to utter.
Legs braced in that posture of his, fists went to his trim hips. “Touch me, Aileen.”
The command persuasive to the point she must apply fierce willpower not to comply. The urge to do it so intense it hurt. Her fingers curled by her side until they whitened at her knuckles.
If she rewarded him with this now, he would never seek to put things to rights and they would be embroiled in his incongruous behaviour forever.
She made herself go cold with the possibility. “No.” She responded glacially. “Let me pass.” Her mahogany gaze flashed on his cement-like.
Stay there, she directed her eyes. The two pairs wrestled for dragging moments, his molten, arousing. Hers firm, for how long she would not dare tell.
Slow, almost languid, he moved to her side, insisting his chest rub her shoulder. The impossible man knew how to instigate a woman to regret resisting.
And she did. As soon as she stumbled out to climb the stairs hurriedly. Before she went back down and made good on his taunt.
~.~.~
Taran strode decisive to the entrance hall, following Glen’s announcement later in the day.
He had gone after his wife in the cellar out of sheer necessity to be close to her. Working side by side exhilarated him at the same time it soared his temperature. When she ogled him with such avidness only she could muster, he had been a hair’s breadth to taking her. He consumed every ounce of self-control to wait for her to decide their course of action.
And the hurricane left him hard and frustrated. Swimming in the loch unthinkable, he must wait for his… enthusiasm to subside. For a long, long time.
The woman was driving him insane with her determination to solve the entangled situation.
Talking of which… “Drostan, Fingal, Lachlan.” He greeted the three McKendrick lairds standing in the hall in formal green and black tartan. His wife proved to be right once more.
The consequences of his deranged break down quick to come.
“McDougal.” Their stances none too friendly.
Any wrong move in this and he might put said wife in dire position. Protecting her his priority now.
“Shall we go to my study?” He invited, and they headed to it.
On the way, the door to her own study opened. A smile began to flourish with the sight of her brothers, soon morphed into a worried frown.
“Stay out of this, Aileen.” Lachlan warned.
It was the same as if he had invited her to join them. “The deuce I will.” She replied vehement, following them.
Taran did not even try to divert her, knowing it to be useless.
