At least the man was wearing doeskin breeches and not the kilt that left his calves and part of his thighs bare. Mari sucked in a breath.Lud. Why was she thinking about his naked legs? Thank goodness, she was wearing a heavy, wool traveling dress and a solid cotton chemise under that. But how would… She pushed the thought firmly aside. A lady did not think about how a man’s skin would feel pressed up against her own flesh.
She had no more than folded her hands primly in her lap when the carriage lurched again, sending her sprawling forward.
Jamie wrapped strong arms around her waist as he caught and placed her back on the seat. To her chagrin, he looped an arm over her shoulder and tucked her against his side. Cocooned in his warmth, Mari inhaled his clean, soapy scent mingled with a hint of leather. Suddenly, she became aware that her breast was pressed against the hardness of Jamie’s chest, her nipple tingling at the strange feeling.
“Let go of me at once,” she said, struggling to sit up.
He loosened his hold, allowing her to sit up, although he didn’t remove his hand from her shoulder. When she looked up at him, his eyes had gone that dark-whisky color again. “Your hand also, if you please, sirrah.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, the dimple just beginning to show. “’Tis for yer own safety I will leave my hand where it is. Unless ye have a wish to land in the laps of young Robin and Joseph there.”
The footmen started to grin and Effie glared at them. “Mind your stations else you will find yourselves back in the rain,” she said.
Both young men blanched and stammered apologies, suddenly finding the landscape on either side of the landau fascinating.
“This is far too intimate,” Mari protested, keeping her voice to a whisper.
Jamie remained unfazed. “Ye have a strange idea of intimacy, lass. Akisswould be intimate.” The dimple deepened. “I will be verra happy to show ye the difference.”
Her breath hitched. Did he really mean to…right here? In front of servants?
Jamie leaned toward her, so close his warm breath fanned her cheek. Her nipples started tingling again. Merciful Heavens. She closed her eyes.
Nothing happened.
Mari opened her eyes slowly. Robin and Joseph were still surveying the passing fields intensely. She could hear Effie muttering. When she looked at Jamie though, he was studying her with an odd expression on his face.
“I think ye want to be kissed, lass.”
“I…I…no. Of course not.” Why did she feel so flustered? “You are quite rude to even suggest it. Do you think me a lightskirt?”
Jamie frowned. “Nae. I dinnae think ye such. ’Tis that I see no harm in a mon and a lass enjoying a wee bit of sport.”
“A wee bit of sport?” Mari managed not to squeak.Really. The man was insufferable. “I will have you know thetonconsiders a young lady compromised for such behavior.”
His eyes widened. “For akiss?”
“Indeed.”
Jamie shook his head. “With such notions, ’tis a wonder England has bred enough lads to supply the Army.”
“That, sirrah, is indelicate talk.”
“Is it now? Does yer Londontonhave some proper explanation for bairns then?”
“I am not going to discuss childbearing with you.” Mari heard a collective gasp from both the footmen and Effie. Her cheeks warmed. The arrogant Highlander brought up the most improper subjects. And, somehow, she couldn’t seem to refrain herself from answering him. “Do you enjoy embarrassing me, sirrah?”
“Nae. ’Tis not my intention.” He leaned close again and whispered, “When I do kiss ye, embarrassment is nae what ye will be feeling. Ye have my oath on that.”
By the time the carriage clattered over the cobblestones of Mayfair’s streets, the rain had slowed to a mere drizzle. Robin and Joseph were situated on the bumper seat again, and Jamie had—thankfully—taken the bench opposite Effie and her. Mari wasn’t quite sure how much more of his closeness—or his insinuations—she could have taken. The inside of the carriage had grown unbearably stuffy and hot. Her skin felt on fire and she longed to open the buttons of her pelisse, but the friction of fabric rubbing over breasts that felt oddly heavy and tender made her stop short.
Thankfully, the butler, Givens, hurried down the steps of the townhouse to greet the carriage, keeping Jamie from putting those strong hands on her waist again to lift her down. Mari briefly wondered where Dobbs was that Givens would come out in the damp weather to meet them, but she was too glad to be out of the confined space of the carriage to care.
“Welcome home, my lady,” Givens said.
My lady. Mari smiled. It was a courtesy title since her dear papa hadn’t been nobility and had died nearly penniless due to gambling debts accrued after Mama’s passing. Jillian, through an unusual act of Parliament, had been awarded the title of marchioness in her own right to Newburn once Wesley Alton had been arrested.
“I am glad to be back in Town,” she replied. “Is Aunt Agnes in?”
