Page 48 of Return to Wildsyde

“I don’t mean today.”

Luella blinked, hurt that he was back to accusing her all over again. “You must know that I didn’t.”

“Must I?”

“Yes,” she said, indignant now.

“All I know is that ye disturb me mightily. I can nae sleep, Luella.”

“Y-You can’t?” she asked stupidly, as her imbecilic heart seemed to do a complicated series of cartwheels in her chest.

He shook his head, those tawny eyes glittering with something she knew to be dangerous. She reminded herself of the lion trapped in its cage, awaiting the moment he could strike, but she was too foolish to heed the warning.

Luella cleared her throat. “Neither can I. It’s… It’s awfully inconvenient.”

He snorted at that. “Aye, that’s a word for it.”

Luella stared at him, wondering what was in his mind. Well, she knew what was in his mind, it hardly took a genius, but he had been a gentleman the last time and… She sucked in a breath as he took a step closer.

“Y-Your soup will get cold,” she said, cursing herself for saying something so inane but her wits had gone begging.

“Damn the soup,” he muttered, and reached for her.

Lyall was losing his bloody mind. He knew it before his hands made contact with her lush curves, but he couldn’t stop himself. Perhaps it was the sight of that bloody dress, trimmed with his tartan. The surge of possessive desire had tipped the balance between sanity and madness. This was the way he’d got into trouble before, he reminded himself, except what he’d felt then was nothing to this. Lilith had been temptation incarnate, beautiful, wicked, hell-bent on seducing him. Luella was different, though in what way he did not yet know. He knew only that he wanted her, wanted his hands on her skin, the taste of her in his mouth. The idea had taken control of his mind and would not let go.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a punishing kiss that was part anger and frustration, part relief. She didn’t hesitate, pressing herself into his embrace, her arms curving about his neck. He felt her hands in his hair, tugging. Lord, but she could kiss. He’d discovered that after their visit to the Grants, but it had not signified to him then. But if she knew how to kiss like that, she was not entirely innocent. Perhaps not innocent at all, with the life her father had led. The man had been unfit to be a parent from all Lyall could gather; he’d hardly have made a fine chaperone. Luella kissed like a woman who knew what she wanted and intended to get it, and that was fine by him. If she knew what she was doing, what she was asking for, he could hardly be blamed for giving it to her, for accepting what was on offer.

His hand moved from her waist to her breast, cupping the generous swell. She made a shocked sound but there was no protest. He heard a soft whimper, but nothing to imply a desire to stop. Lyall dropped his head, kissing the swell of her breast visible above the neckline of her gown. His tongue traced patterns on her silken skin, and he heard her gasp, her hands in his hair, holding his head in place now, as if he was going anywhere. Lyall dipped his tongue into the valley of her cleavage, pleased when her breath hitched. There was another whimper.

“Murdoch,” she said, a slightly irritated note in her voice. “Wait, darling, just… Oh.”

Lyall’s other hand firmed on her bottom, pulling her closer, making her aware of just where this was going, should there be any doubt. He kissed her again, and she met his passion head on, her soft moan stirring his blood higher.

There was an impatient scratching sound and a bark of annoyance.

“Hush,” Lyall said, too lost in the warm, willing bundle of femininity in his arms to care for anything else.

“I think… I think he wants…” Luella gasped, but Lyall stole the words with a demanding kiss that had her clinging to him. He deepened the kiss, gratified when she not only let him but clung to him harder, as if she couldn’t get close enough. Well, he could do something about that if she liked.

Murdoch barked. He barked and barked, louder and more insistent, until Lyall’s head came up, his senses returning to him in a rush. Did he want to end up married to another bloody Fulbright? Absolutely not. He stared at Luella, at the soft look in her eyes, desire and heat, and… and he needed her out of this room, out of the bloody castle. Now.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, letting her go and stepping away. “I… I apologise, Luella, I ought. I dinnae ken what got into me.” He hastened to the door, wrenching it open to let the unfortunate Murdoch out. “I’d best…”

He gestured helplessly after the anxious dog.

“Of course,” she said, her cheeks burning with mortification.

“Luella, I…”

“You’d best go, before he does something Mrs Baillie won’t like,” she said, giving him a smile that did not reach her eyes.

“Aye. I best had. I’m—”

“There’s no need,” she said, standing and regarding him, as proud as a duchess. “We are both adults. It’s a bad idea is all. We both know it. Good evening, Lord Buchanan. I won’t wait on you again, don’t worry.”

Lyall nodded, knowing she’d keep to it, and hurried after Murdoch.

Chapter 16