Page 28 of Christmas Wore Plaid

“Then I’ll send your coachman ahead to inform her.”

“In this weather?”

“The snow is gentle and he’s an experienced horseman with a sturdy mount.”

“And remain here alone? Clara would prattle on for days if she found out.”

He shrugged, tightening his hold. “Who says she has to find out? My cook is here to ensure I behave, besides,” he smiled.

Emerson rolled her eyes and pushed him back, slapping playfully at his arm. “Behave to be sure. I knew your sense of humor was still in there, lurking beneath your razor edges. Why, you hold me now like a man who has some sort of claim, and you certainly weren’t behaving when you climbed to my window all those years ago.”

He chuckled. “If I recall, I was misbehaving quite flagrantly. Would you like it if I did so again, Emmy?”

Her face reddened and she looked away. “You wouldn’t dare, Brady MacInnes.”

He grinned. “Aye. But in truth, it’s too bloody cold on the high road for a second journey today, and I fear you wouldn’t make it home before sunset. I might jest about climbing to windows and claiming a boon, but I’m still a gentleman. I’d never turn out someone so late in the day, simply to keep up appearances.”

She was mulling over his suggestion. He could see it in her eyes. A thrill shot down his spine.

“I suppose if I stay, we could better plan such a charity party,” she finally conceded. “All right, I accept.”

His humored smile dropped. Lord, she was going to rope him into the damned party. If she stayed, no doubt she’d have everything drawn up by dawn, right down to the last tablecloth and teaspoon.

A grin lit her face. Dammit, she knew she was wrapping him around her finger. “In fact, it’s a brilliant idea.”

“Emerson, this plan is folly, and on such short notice?”

“I won’t be here next year.”

He stiffened at her remark as she continued.

“Once I sell Aunt Bess’s estate, I’ll be returning to my holdings in Oxford. Unless I have a reason to remain.”

The rusty smile she’d put on his face this afternoon fell off completely. He didn’t want her leaving again, not when he could sense attraction firing between them like musket balls. There was something between them. There always had been. And being reunited had rekindled it. Her uncle’s obstruction was no longer an issue, and judging from those letters, her aunt had fought for Emerson to follow her heart with him. He knew what he wanted. And he had always wanted her.

“Funny, how I always wished to leave Scotland, and never could, and you always loved it here, and couldn’t stay… You needn’t leave Scotland again, Emmy.”

She looked up at him. Words already forming on her lips fell away as she blushed at his nickname. “What reason do I have to stay?” she finally choked out, though hadn’t meant for her question to be answered.

He answered it anyway with such longing in his heart, he feared it came through in his response. “Me.”

She gazed up at him as if she had hoped he would say it. He could no longer resist her. Soft and pliant in his arms, he had to lay himself bare. He gazed at her full lips, then her eyes as they fluttered closed, then her lips again. They gently parted. He lowered his head, his eyes never wavering from the target he intended to hit, and his mouth finally touched hers. She didn’t pull away. He could feel her fingers tighten at his back to grip his shirt. But unlike the chaste brushing of lips they had once shared, this time, he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased her lips, and she responded to his silent request, opening for him.

He exhaled and sank into the embrace of lips and tongues, his hand trailing up her back to wrap into her spirals. They were silky soft and tangled between his fingers. He never wanted to untangle them. His lips slid upon hers and he felt her reach up on her toes as if desperate to taste all he offered. She sighed, such a soft and wanting sound, and his other hand dragged down to her rear and pulled her flush against him as he stiffened with need. The pressure of her body against his made him groan low in his throat and he dragged his lips away, kissing fervently down her jaw, onto her neck, as she tipped back her head.

“Emmy,” he growled, dragging his lips back up her soft skin. “Don’t leave again.”

Their lips reconnected and she demanded more of his offering. When finally, he lifted his head, her eyes were half-lidded in that dreamy state he had imagined on her face from making love to her. Her hands slid lazily onto his lower back where the rise of his rear met his spine. It only whetted his lust more. She smiled and let go, picking at his shirt as if pinching fluffs of lint, when in truth he knew she was trying to form something to say.

“Why did you stop?” she hedged, her eyes fluttering up to his, then away again.

He leaned down to nuzzle her cheek, her neck, and trailed his lips up to her ears as he watched gooseflesh rise upon her skin. Her question was what he needed know he had permission to go further. His blood was surging hotly in his veins, and if she wanted something more, he’d bloody-well give it to her.

“I don’t have to stop,” he whispered in her ear, nipping her earlobe, feeling her shiver as he ran his hand upon her rear again to pull her flush with his hardened desire. “Not if you don’t want me to. After all this time.”

Her palms slid up his chest, around his neck, and clenched the nape while she turned her lips into his, pressing their mouths together. “No, not after all this time.”

He kissed her, her soft moan igniting his impulses. He felt the vibration against his tongue and pulled upon her, relishing the way in which her fingernails bit into his skin and tugged his hair. She rolled against him, in unison with his body’s need for friction. He cursed on an exhale against her mouth and walked her backward until she bumped against the wall, no longer caring about notions of propriety. He braced her there and nudged his hips against her stomach, cupped her face, tilted it so he could lave his tongue across hers more hungrily.