“No shame,” he whispered. “Only pleasure.”
It was true. Alec stared down at her, deriving pleasure from her pleasure.
She moaned. “Alec…I want—”
“This?” He slipped his finger inside her.
Her eyes squeezed shut. Her hips were twisting. Writhing. Churning around his finger…around her own.
She cried out her protest when he left her. She opened her eyes just as Alec levered himself over her. His arms were bulging, his eyes glittering blue fire.
Drenched in arousal, drenched with heat, she moaned when he plunged hard and deep. This was desire unleashed. Desire unchecked.
One single thrust and she spasmed around his rod.
And then it began anew. With every searing plunge, every heartbeat, shivers raced inside her. Her whimper of need kindled the rise of his. His kiss was greedy, his body hungry. Sensing the rise of his climax, she clutched at his shoulders as he erupted inside her again and again.
Spent, he slid to his back and gathered her against him.
Maura buried her cheek against the hollow of his shoulder. She couldn’t look at him. Right now she wasn’t sure she could ever look anyone in the eye again. “Alec,” she moaned, “I cannot believe that I—”
He gave a soft laugh and wrapped her closer still.
Maura woke, stretching slowly. In the haze of her mind she was aware that she’d spent the night in Alec’s bed. A vague memory lingered. A memory of a kiss light as air pressed upon her lips, along with throaty, male laughter. She remembered screwing her mouth tightly closed, for she was in the midst of a wonderful, lovely dream from which she protested awakening.
Alec was there, in her dream.Why, where else would he be?chided a most preemptory voice in the dream. They were on the beach in Ireland; Castle McDonough crowned the cliff top above. Alec was laughing. Laughing at a small, wiry figure she tried to see but could not. In some wispy corner of her dreamworld, she wondered why Alec would be carrying a stick, wielding it as if it were a mighty sword. But she was happy. Oh, happy as never before.
That same husky male laughter echoed through her dream state. She felt herself rising through it, yet she hated to leave it, for it was so very, very perfect and she knew she would never tire of that husky male laugh. And when it was gone, with a wispy breath she lapsed back into her dream with a sigh of wonder anew.
When she appeared in the dining room where breakfast was laid out on the sideboard, Mrs. Yates informed her that Alec had gone out with his estate manager. She was both grateful and disappointed. In the wake of the eroticism they had shared, a part of her wondered how she might face him. Yet another part of her longed for him, to throw herself into his arms as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
Which was rather silly, really. So it was that frustration gnawed at her. Her presence was not needed anywhere. Not knowing what else to do—she was at a loss as to where she mightsearch for the Circle next—she pored over the family annals once more. Alas, a futile effort that only brought more frustration.
Closing the leather-bound book that contained the family records, she left the library. Her path through the house carried Maura past the family portraits. She paused, turned back. Her gaze immediately swung to the portrait of James, seventh Duke of Gleneden. Even as she smothered an oath, she prayed that his portrait might provoke some great revelation.
As always before, shivers plied along her nerves. That strange sense that the Circle was here at Gleneden returned in full measure. Here was the Black Scotsman, the Black Scotsman that no one else knew, jeering at her.
Turning her back to him, she wandered outside. The day was warm. There was no need to tug a shawl about her shoulders. Almost without conscious awareness, her steps guided her to the loch.
She sat down and slid her arms around her upraised knees.
In the morning sun, the loch was a brilliant blue, with pale patterns that trembled on it in silvery paths. Across the shore were densely wooded hills.
With a sigh, she lay back on the grass. Palms up, her hands rested beside her head as she stared at a few cloudy wisps high above.
All around lay peace. Serenity.
But her soul, her very being, was anything but tranquil. Doubt crowded her. Everything inside her cried out. Locked in her breast was a world of torment.
She was weary and bleak. Her search for the Circle had proved fruitless. Was she on a mission of triumph or was Alec right? Was she on a fool’s quest?
She’d promised her father she would find the Circle—promised him on his deathbed. But now, doubt crowded her. How could she possibly find the Circle? Something she had never seen…that no one in two hundred years had ever seen?
Despair wrenched at her. Hope was meager.
It wasn’t just her family lands that were at stake.
Her heart was in jeopardy as well.
