She opened the door and gave him a small smile before shutting it behind her. She leaned back against the wood, waiting with bated breath until she heard his footsteps retreat.
She let out the breath she had been holding and scurried to her bed, throwing herself onto it as excitement filled her. She screamed into her pillow, kicking her legs as their earlier activities flashed through her head.
She rolled around and bit her lips to suppress a smile, but failed when she remembered Ruaridh leaning in and capturing them with his own. She placed a hand over them, as if she could feel his kiss again. Then, remembering her list, she got up and moved to her desk to pick it up.
He had offered to help her complete her list without knowing everything on it and had unknowingly ticked off one of the items already. She smiled and crossed off the item before replacing it at the bottom of her drawer.
If their match was off to such an interesting start, she almost felt guilty that she was planning her escape.
10
It wasjusta kiss.
Perhaps if she reminded herself of the simplicity of that action, she might be able to get over it faster and function like the composed lady she had been the hour before.
Settled.
Unscathed by the force of Ruaridh’s passion.
Except it was not that simple, and she suspected that there was no going back to the woman she had been before he had claimed her lips.
Every time she closed her eyes, she could still feel his strong arms around her, pulling her into his heady embrace, taking her lips with his, drowning her in the eroticism of his touch.
She was addicted. He was going to be her life’s worst addiction, and somehow she could not bring herself to care.
It was easier when it was just a line in her list
Kiss a gentleman.
It was supposed to be that easy, a simple lock of lips. Except she should have known that when it came to Ruaridh, things were hardly simple. After all, her life had taken a bizarre turn since she met him.
When she had first written her list, she had pictured stealing a kiss from a gentleman in a darkened corridor at a ball. She had certainly not imagined that she would be sharing that kiss with a Scottish laird in broad daylight, their wet skin sliding against each other as their passion carried them away.
A minute longer in his arms, and she would have locked her arms around his neck, desperately trying to climb his body and get closer to his delicious heat. It didn’t help that she suspected that he would have welcomed it, making that delicious sound at the back of his throat that did things to her core.
She fanned her face frantically in the hope of dousing the flames growing in her body and quelling the blush that was now turning her as bright as a tomato. She admitted that this was no one-off event and that having the memory of his taste meant that the next time she was alone with him, she would be immensely pressed not to drag him in for a kiss.
Heavens! Now it made more sense why it was easy for many gently bred ladies to give themselves to ruin if they had felt a fraction of what she had shared with Ruaridh.
She should be troubled by how easily she had turned a wanton for him simply because of a kiss. Instead, all she could think about was that it was not enough. While he kissed her, his hands had roamed her body, sparking pleasure and desire where they went, though she felt him holding back despite the obvious evidence of his desire for her.
She suspected that if he hadn’t done that, they might have ended up in a tangled heap on the grassy bank of the loch, giving rein to the passion that had been driving her crazy for weeks, uncaring if anyone found them.
In a castle of this size, they would have certainly been found out. If they were not found out while they still clung to each other half-dressed, in the throes of passion, the residents of the castle would definitely put two and two together and come up with five when she eventually came back with grass stains at the back of her dress and tiny pieces of foliage and sand in her hair.
It would be equal to announcing their tryst if she returned that way. A scandal, to be sure.
Even though Highlanders were less sensitive to topics of that nature, she was an English lady through and through. She should be horrified at the thought of being embroiled in such a scandal. Instead, all she could think about was how it would beworth it if she experienced the pleasure she so deeply craved in Ruaridh’s arms.
This was surely proof that she was going out of her mind, except she could not dredge up the appropriate feeling of worry.
There were very few remedies for impending obsession, but one temporary remedy existed—distraction.
Since it seemed that the subject of Ruaridh was anathema to her peace of mind, she turned her mind to another innocuous subject—Keira, his daughter. Who also happened to be her friend, whom she had all but abandoned as she became engrossed in her preoccupation with Ruaridh.
Violet had decided to look for her after she got herself out of her cold, wet clothes, which were already drying on her skin, cooling her in the process.
When she stepped into her room, it was to find Ona efficiently making her bed, her brow furrowed in concentration. She waited until the maid tucked down the blanket and smoothed it before speaking.
