“Where will you go?” He would follow her to the ends of the earth to protect her.
“Mr. Forrester is looking for a home for the children and me as we speak. Although, if our names are restored, Urquhart Castle would be a wonderful place to raise my children.”
Like hell it would be. “Your sister is there with her husband.”
“Yes, but there is plenty of room for all of us.”
He stared at her lips, unable to think of anything beyond tasting her. He held his body in check, and told himself to let her control the tempo of whatever was happening at that very moment.
“May I kiss you?” she asked.
“As long as you know that I am ‘unfit for any place but hell.’”
“Shakespearian self-castigation is not the appropriate use of the bard’s talent.”
“Yet, it’s true. If you kiss me, I want you to understand that you are kissing an unworthy man.”
Her eyes twinkled. “I beg to differ,” she said as she rose on her toes and brought her lips to his. It was light and tender and sweet, barely a whisper of a touch, that was the most alluring kiss of his life. It was over too quickly.
She drew back and studied his mouth, as if she couldn’t quite believe she had been that bold. He couldn’t believe it either, and yet, he was too afraid to move, least he frighten her with his desperate desire. Then she was rising on her toes once more, only this time when she sealed her lips to his, she was no longer tentative. She nipped and licked and pressed her body so closely to his, he thought he had to be dreaming.
He thought he’d pass out with frustration when her palm left his thigh, until she grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to her feminine backside and he discovered heaven in his palm. Soround and soft, the globes of her arse were gloriously plump and perfectly proportioned for his palm to squeeze as he pulled her even tighter against his body.
The growl he’d been desperate to contain rumbled through his chest when she moaned her pleasure, as she pressed her tongue to the seam of his lips to deepen their kiss. He opened for her, still allowing her to be in control of the pace despite his own need to finally have her in his bed. When she pulled back and stared at his mouth as if she was stunned by what had just occurred, he said, “I should not confess this, but at this moment,‘your bum is the greatest thing about you.’”
She laughed at his quote and he gloried in the vision, and the sound of her mirth. It was like the bells in the town square when the war was over.
“I don’t think Escalus was praising Pompey’s backside inMeasure for Measure. I believe it was more of an insult.”
He squeezed the thinly covered flesh in his hands and imagined the silky skin he wanted to worship. “With yours, it is the greatest of compliments. Your arse is perfection.”
Caillen blushed and he stole a quick kiss and then confessed, “I would rather you come back to Langley Castle with me instead of returning to Harding House.”
She laughed again, too quickly this time. “Your mother would not approve.”
It was now or never, so he gambled on whether his reception would be like plunging into the heated springs of Somerset, or the ice-cold waters of Rosemarkie Bay. “My mother would be overjoyed if we returned and you were my countess. Will you marry me, Caillen?”
Thirteen
Dear Sisters,
Gentlemen of the ton are ‘dull of tongue and dwarfish.’ Spend time with one and you will find that beyond his pretty words of flattery and handsome visage, he is ‘not worth the dust in which a rude wind blows in your face.’ I will not marry a gentleman of the ton ever again. Frailty is not my name. Our parents raised us to think, to feel, to love.
Do not short yourself. You will not find such a man in London who can allow you to flourish as our mother did. She was happy and joyful and our parents’ love was a rare thing not found amongst the ton. Look at the unhappy wives deep in their cups, seeking pleasure in the dark rooms of any ball, or the many who seek fulfillment at the modiste. Is that not why our mother fell in love with a quality man of business from the Highlands after two seasons in London?
Be true to your heart. dear sisters, not their silver tongues.
With all my love,
Caillen
—A letter to the Blair sisters at Harding House where they were living under the roof of the Duke of Ross, Nash Harding, and their older sister, Iseabail, who had found a love as cherishable as their parents. One year and one month after the death of Baron Bredlebane.
“Marry you?” She sputtered the word as if it were mud in her mouth. “‘Your kisses are Judas’s own children!’”
His lip quirked. “Darling, I believe the quote you are looking for is from Act Three ofAs You Like It. “Something browner than Judas's;marry, his kisses are Judas’s own children.’”
“Are your kisses like Judas’s own children? Do they betray even as they’re given?” Because his kisses were what dreams were made of. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his lips. Those tantalizing, sensual lips that awoke something in her William had killed. Rather, had never brought to life in the first place. Although she had found William’s kisses pleasant enough before their marriage, they lacked a tenderness that was inherent with the man holding her in his arms, with his large hands kneading her buttocks even as they spoke, driving her mad with a desire she had been incapable of feeling—until him.
