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“I would never dream o’ doin’ somethin’ so improper,” Alexander murmured, though the way his eyes roved over her face, her neck, her breasts, made her think that the truth was quite otherwise.
Perhaps that was what gave her the push to do what she did next. “Well,” she said, barely able to believe she was speaking. “I would.”
She pressed her hand to the back of his head, curling it in that impossibly soft dark hair, and pulled gently. There was not enough pressure that he couldn’t stop her if he didn’t want to, but just enough to make her meaning very clear.
And then their lips met, and their mouths molded together like they had been created as a complementary set. Cicilia’s one dim memory of a kiss had rather put her off the whole idea, but this, the way his mouth moved against hers, the way he leaned in so close, was mind-blowing.
Almost nervously, his tongue knocked against their lips, and she opened her own without thinking, needing more of him, needing more of this feeling. She made a little whimpering sound as he balanced on his elbows and gripped her arms with his hands, encouraging her to cling harder, kiss him deeper.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, it was over. Alexander drew back for air, and the moment was broken.
Cicilia darted backward, reminding herself of a frightened rabbit as she wriggled out from underneath his body and rushed to the door.
“Cicilia, wait—!” she heard behind her, but she couldn’t stop now. She threw open the doors and hurried into the morning air, hoping it would calm some of the embarrassment from her cheeks.
To throw meself at him like some kind o’ wanton!
As she ran back to the house, half-wishing she never needed to leave again, the cock crowed in a new day.
The kiss had been everything that was promised to Alexander in his secret, troubled dreams. No, it was more than that. The sweet pressure of her breasts against his chest.
The way her tongue danced with his, and her hands caressed his hair. Even more, that little moan she’d made near the end…
Enough.
Alexander coughed and straightened his clothes as best as he could, clambering to his feet in the barn. He could feel the horses all staring at him, almost accusatory. “Aye, an’ what do ye ken?” he snapped at the animals.
It felt so different from me last kiss. Softer an’ harder all at once. Nothin’ like she was.
A newly awakened Ailill whinnied in response, and Alexander sighed.
I should nae have done that. I should nae have done any o’ it. What kind o’ Laird takes advantage o’ such an opportunity?
But then, what kind of man did not? After all, Cicilia had clearly wanted him. Was it so wrong that he gave in to his body’s desires for just a moment? It had been little more than a kiss.
Troubled, he turned to pet Aibreann’s nose before leaving, and that was when he spotted the book on the ground. Cicilia must have left it behind in her embarrassment, and now here it lay, ready to reveal all of her farm and her father’s secrets at last.
He bent and picked it up, indecision tearing at his soul. On the one hand, he was here with a job to do. He was a Laird, and this farm was one of his clan’s most significant providers. It was his duty to understand fully what was happening here.
But…
What if she thinks I just kissed her to get the ledger? What if she believes I used her as a common illicit brothel-wench?
The thought horrified him so much that he almost dropped the book. Cicilia was aggravating, but she was also, no doubt, a good woman. Alexander would not be responsible for adding to her already considerable burden of pain.
She was like a whirlpool in the middle of the sea, drawing everything towards it with her irrepressible charm and undeniable talent. Alexander had a steadier course than most and could avoid the whirlpool or even stop it entirely if he so wished.
But a force of nature did not mean a force of evil, and he knew that Cicilia deserved better than to suffer yet another blow in her already fraught life.
Which left the question, then—did he try to sail around her, or did he set a course straight into the abyss?
Chapter 13
Amicus Certus in Re Incerta Cernitur
A Certain Friend in an Uncertain Matter
Nathair waited for Cicilia at the front gate of the property, filled with amusement at the complexity of their arrangements. He had barely seen either Cicilia or Alexander all morning. Though he had no real idea what had happened, he could undoubtedly hazard a guess.
