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‘Not really.’ The words escaped her before she could stop them, but she couldn’t regret them. Not when they lit a spark in Fraser’s eyes that made the night seem a little less dark.
‘You don’t want to go back?’
Oh, there was so much more to that question, and she could see from the look in his eyes, lit only by the moon, that he knew it.
Surely it was late enough by now that she wouldn’t be missed at the reception? In her plan for the day, that was meant to be her cue to leave. To get home to her mum and her sister. Not to slope off somewhere with a stranger she would probably never see again.
Because if there was one thing she was sure about when it came to this connection she felt to Fraser, it was that it was never going to last more than a night. She had tried balancing a relationship, her work and family commitments before, and it hadn’t been possible. She’d got hurt. Alex had got hurt. And she knew her family had been hurt too, as they’d seen all their hopes for her unpicked and falling away.
But one night with this man—well, that could be something interesting. More and more, it was feeling as if it could be something irresistible.
‘I don’t want to go back,’ she said, looking up to meet his eyes, making sure that he couldn’t mistake her meaning.
She let the tree take her weight, surrendering herself to her decision, to her desire. The champagne glass slipped from her hand and she heard it hit the ground with a soft rustle. With her hands free, she brushed the front of Fraser’s jacket, taking a moment to really feel the fabric, the softness of well-worn wool on her fingertips. From his lapels she stroked upwards, inwards, and heavy fabric gave way to soft cotton.
His eyes never left hers as she reached the studs of his shirt and hooked her fingers into the fabric, pulling him down to her.
‘What do you want?’ Fraser asked, breaking their look at last and glancing down at her hands.
‘I think you know.’
‘Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea. But I want to hear you say it.’
‘It’s going to be like that, is it?’ Elspeth asked with a shiver, hoping very much that it would be.
He was still looking at her as if he wanted to consume her, and she was good with that. She had too much in her head. Too much in her life. She wanted to be devoured, to devour. To lose herself in her senses, in the present. To be so overwhelmed that she couldn’t think about anything beyond the next second.
She slipped her foot out of her shoe and hooked it around Fraser’s calf, noticing the feel of every hair that slipped beneath the arch of her foot, the line of his calf muscle, taut and defined and bared to the elements.
As she slipped her fo
ot higher, feeling the slide of his skin beneath hers, she couldn’t help imagining what she would find higher still. Wondering whether he was exposed to the elements, to her, beneath that kilt.
With the fingers of one hand still hooked in his shirt, keeping him close, she lifted the other to the back of his neck, feeling the softness of the hair curling at his collar. Meeting his eyes again, she smiled.
‘Enjoying yourself?’ Fraser asked, with a smile just the right side of smug.
‘You know I am,’ she murmured, dropping her eyes to his mouth and finding herself unable to look away from it.
She licked her lips, and watched as his mouth curved into a knowing, confident smile.
‘Good. Don’t stop.’
She had absolutely no intention of stopping. Gripping the front of his shirt tighter, she twisted the fabric between her fingers as she pulled him down to her. She held her breath as she closed her eyes, stretching up on tiptoes until at last her lips brushed against his. Sensation exploded at the touch of his warm mouth and she let out a quiet moan, revelling in every physical sensation assaulting her body.
In the press of hard wood and soft woollen blanket behind her, the creased cotton and tweed in front. The curling hair and soft skin beneath her hand. And the uninhibited mouth on hers. Tasting her, tempting her. Teasing her with its tongue and its lips.
Fraser’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her away from the tree into his solid chest. Elspeth let her lips trace the line of his jaw until she was close enough to whisper in his ear.
‘Let’s go.’
* * *
Fraser woke to the sensation of silk sheets beneath his body and a warm summer breeze caressing his back. And soft, soft lips pressing against his.
Elspeth.
With his eyes still closed, he wound fingers into her hair, cupped his other hand around her cheek and kissed her lazily, slowly remembering the night before. He pulled her down on top of him, but she stiffened, drawing away until his body and his bed felt cold.
