To Tempt a Scotsman Page 11

  She stared down at the cherry mess of ruined pie and blinked. "What a terrible kitchen maid I'd make."

  "Well, I've worked as a kitchen maid and I'll be happy to serve you."

  "Really?" She blinked her shock away and looked him over with a crooked smile. "It must take yards of wool to make a dress your size."

  "As luck would have it, my mother did not require me to dress the part."

  Her giggle was a little high-pitched. Collin hadn't real­ized she was nervous, and perhaps she hadn't been earlier, but now he saw that her hands plucked at her skirt as she looked over the room, that her teeth worried the full curve of her bottom lip. It was easy to forget, especially in this circumstance, that the girl was only nineteen . . . no, twenty now. Twenty and usually so very sure of herself.

  He stepped close to press a kiss to her nose. "I'll light the lamps. It'll be dark soon."

  She avoided his eyes, let her gaze touch everything in the kitchen but him. "I should set the table. Get you some dinner."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "No?" Her gaze finally settled on his boots. "Thirsty then?"

  "Aye," he conceded, tilting up her chin with one cal-lused finger. "I could do with a touch of wine." She bright­ened with relief and moved quickly to the table, so urgent that her hair trailed out on a breeze behind her.

  The cottage was simple and small, and he took in the whole of the first floor with a sweeping glance. Stairs at the back of the kitchen led up to what must be the bed­room. Everything was neat and clean, stone and wood and fine rugs to protect against the hard oak floor.

  He wondered who had lived here before. Perhaps no one, perhaps it had always been a trysting place, a hide­away. It was certainly secluded enough. The dimming light of the sun filtered though a canopy of leaves, casting dusk an hour early. Collin moved to light the lamps.

  He laid out a small fire for good measure and was trying to decide whether to light it when her shadow fell over his shoulder. Turning from the hearth, he found Alexandra standing a few feet away with a tremulous smile and two glasses of deep red wine.

  His mouth watered.

  "The wine." Her voice was soft, a little husky, almost a question.

  "Yes," he answered, eyes on her mouth. She licked her lips, a gesture he recognized now . . . and appreciated. Smiling, he took the glass she offered and delighted in the blush that stained her cheeks. She didn't seem to know what to do with him now that she had him in her clutches, and Collin was relieved to finally be the seducer.

  Sipping his wine, he watched her gulp hers before she turned and retreated to the kitchen to refill her glass. When she wandered back, she did not walk to him, but stopped to stare nonchalantly out the window at the dimness of leaves and shadow.

  A wave of heat prickled his nerves and stiffened his cock, an anticipation like the scent of prey. The lust had always been there, always at the surface, but now it was tinged with the chase, the challenge of arousing her beyond her hesitation. He moved toward her with narrow-eyed focus, leaving his wine glass on the table as he passed.

  The line of her shoulders was hard beneath the cotton of her gown. She heard him approach, perhaps even saw him reflected in the window, but she pretended not to notice, frozen like a rabbit in the hunt. His smile widened.

  Chest no more than a hand's-breadth from the curve of her back, he stopped and breathed in the sweet, flowered smell of her hair. His shaft swelled.

  A gasp flew from her throat when his hand touched her hair to sweep it away from her neck. She hissed out a breath when he leaned close enough to kiss her. He didn't though. He only inhaled, savoring the scent that had haunted his nights for months, wanting more of it, the smell of her skin and her arousal, the smell of sex.

  She stood still beneath him, holding her breath, waiting. Collin closed his eyes, put his mouth to her neck just as he spread his fingers wide over the curve of her waist.

  He wished that he was a beast then, when she shook and gasped. Wished he had sharp teeth to sink into her flesh, that he could press her against the wall and plunge into her from behind like a dog, like an animal.

  She thought him so controlled, when he was everything but controlled with her. He wanted to punish her for that, to hurt her the way it hurt him to be near her, but not now. Not like this. Still. . . He was wild and the most he could offer her was pleasure in that wildness.

  Stepping away from her, he wrenched off his dusty coat. She turned to watch, no longer blushing, but flushed with desire. She shone with it, eyes glinting in the lamplight.

  "I canna promise you finesse this time, Alex."

  She shook her head. "No."

  "Tomorrow, perhaps."

  Her mouth softened a little, smiled, but her eyes dropped to his chest as he reached for the buttons of his shirt. Her lips parted as she watched his movements, avid and heavy-eyed. When Collin jerked the shirt from his breeches, she stepped forward to push the linen up.

  His muscles jumped and strained at the sweep of her fingers. She pressed both hands to his ribs, slid them over his chest and up to slip the shirt from his body. Collin threw his head back, overwhelmed by her roaming touch and the fascination on her beautiful face. That she could look upon him with such fervor. . .

  "You can't know how much I've wanted to do this, Collin. Since that day in the stables . . . I've spent hours dreaming of your body. Days."

  He felt her palms surveying him, lingering over his nip­ples, the hair that curled in the middle of his chest.

  A growl of need flooded his throat, and he laid his hands over hers to still them. "You will unman me before we even start." When he opened his eyes again, she grinned up at him with delight. So much for the hunter being the hunted.

  Collin smiled at the thought, chuckled.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. I overreached myself is all."

  She blinked in puzzlement, but her smile never faltered, even as she backed away and began to unfasten her simple dress. Collin's laugh regressed to a growl.

  The tiny ribbons of her bodice opened beneath her fin­gers at a maddeningly slow rate. Dozens of them trailed down the cotton, a line of restraint that ended below her waist, and his fingers itched to help. By the time she had reached the bows at the middle of her belly, Collin realized she wore nothing beneath and lost his fight for patience. She gasped when he reached for the collar and spread it wide, sliding it down over her arms till she was naked to the waist. She did not try to stop him.

  "Jesus God," he whispered and kissed her finally, drank in her taste of wine and heat, and nearly spent himself at the warm press of her breasts against his body. A groan fell from her throat and Collin's hands shook as he buried them in her loose hair.

  "God," he whispered again, pulling away from her mouth and dropping to his knees before her. Her small, high breasts rose and fell just above his eyes, lifted by her panting chest.

  Reverent, fierce, he gazed up at her, almost afraid to touch that soft curve of flesh, afraid to give himself over to her power. She watched him, waiting as he set his hands at her waist and pushed the dress down, letting it fall away from her.

  The fabric slithered into a pile and left silence in its wake. He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Alexandra stood before him, naked and glorious and unashamed, and Collin's heart twisted with a pop of pain.

  "Alex," he moaned, hands smoothing a line from her hips to her waist, to the hard curve of her ribs. "How can you be so beautiful?"

  He pressed his face to her belly, to the twitch of strong muscle and satin skin. He dragged his lips over the texture of silk and the scent of woman. Bit lightly at the first rib he found so that her legs gave out and he had to hold her, so that her body fell far enough that the pearl pink tip of one nipple slid right into his mouth.

  She arched into him with a cry and a plea. He sucked and she wept. Nipped and she screamed. Then she wrapped her­self around him, trapped him within the circle of her legs and pressed her wet heat against his belly.


  They both panted, both pressed hard into the other as he fell back on his haunches and slid her onto his lap.

  Her mouth fell upon his, and he thrust into her with his tongue as he longed to do with his cock, slipped his hands down to clutch the round firmness of her buttocks, and cursed the painful confinement of his breeches. His hands refused to relinquish their prize long enough to set her aside and tear them off, but he was going to explode before he ever got inside her if he didn't hurry. He'd been waiting so damn long.

  Alex rocked against him, sucking his tongue, and Collin forgot his breeches and slipped one hand further down, along the seam of her body and into her slick core.

  Rearing up, she cried out as his fingertips pressed in, screamed when he slid them further along to the hard nub of her pleasure. She was already peaking, he realized in shock, even as he circled her again, even as he pushed a finger deep inside her. Her body squeezed him, tight and so soft he wanted to weep in desperation, wanted to cry out with her as she pushed and rocked against his hand.

  Waiting till the last spasm shook her, Collin laid her back against the burgundy rug and tore at the buttons of his riding breeches. His eyes took in her panting mouth, her tight nipples, before they settled on her center, pink and wet and spread before him.

  "I willna last long, mo caitein. No longer than you. I'm sorry." She trembled a little as he finally slipped free of his damned clothes.

  Her hand rose, and Collin tried to stop her, tried to stay her movement, but her fingers brushed his erection before he could manage a word. Looking down, unable to help himself, he saw her small hand, her delicate fingers trying to wrap around him, to grasp him. The sight of that hand, nearly too small to circle the whole of his shaft, sent him over the edge. He pulled out of her reach, braced his knees against the ground, and slid the tip of himself inside her.

  His body was already straining, already drawing itself up to explode, and he knew he could not hesitate or it would be over before it began.

  "I'm sorry," he growled again and thrust deep and hard, sinking himself to the hilt.

  His release was upon him even as she screamed, even as he felt the sudden resistance that was even more suddenly gone, even as he realized with a horrible shock that some­thing was very wrong.

  His muscles clenched. His seed spilled into her, and her small white hands pushed at his shoulders, trying to free her body from his.

  Chapter 10

  The room began to right itself, slowly inching back into place. Collin reared back, still tight inside her, and stared into her wide eyes. He felt the beginnings of a thought, felt his brain begin to ease back to reality, and tried to deny what it was telling him.

  Absolutely not. He had not taken her maidenhead.

  But she was shaking beneath him, trembling, her face tight and pale. "Please," she bleated, hands pressed into her own stomach.

  He withdrew with a grimace and stared in disbelief at the bright smear of blood on his flesh. Blinking hard, he shook his head, rose to his feet. His mind stirred anew as he padded into the kitchen and wet a cloth with cold water. He delivered it to Alexandra, tossed her his shirt to cover herself, and turned to find his breeches.

  "I'm sorry," she said from behind him.

  "Sorry." He fastened his buttons with numb fingers.

  "Yes."

  He swung about to find her still huddled on the floor, his shirt clutched tight to her body. Her chin inched up, and he was shocked by the urge to slap her. "That's it?"

  "What?"

  "Is that the whole of your apology?"

  "I. . ." She swallowed, glanced around at her scattered clothing. "I would like to explain."

  "Oh, explain*. Explain what? That you are a liar and a cheat? That you tricked me into coming here? Explain that I will have to do the honorable thing and marry you be­cause I'm now covered in your virgin's blood? Good God, is there someone hiding in the broom closet, waiting to give witness?"

  Her jaw tightened, flexed to rock. "Don't be ridiculous."

  Collin choked, coughing on his rage. "What the hell have you done, Alexandra?"

  Her eyes jerked around the room again. "Could you please turn around so I can dress?"

  "Turn around?" Collin could hear himself shouting and cared not a whit. "Turn around? For God's sake, woman, I just plowed through ye!"

  She drew herself up straight, red spots of rage bright on her pale cheeks. "Fine." Standing, she crumpled his shirt and threw it at his face. Collin glimpsed a pink drop of fluid snaking down her thigh before he turned his back to her.

  Rustling cloth and soft curses reached his ears as she dressed. Collin's heart began to stutter with panic as the reality of the situation sunk in. She would be his wife now. His wife.

  Jeannie Kirkland would be pleased, at least.

  "I didn't come here to trick you into marriage," Alex spit at his back when she finally felt covered enough. The words spun him around.

  "Well, it's too late to cry off now."

  "No, Collin, listen. I don't want to marry you, I just—"

  He cut her off with a snort, spreading his hands wide. "It's too late."

  Alex resisted the urge to press her hands to the ache between her legs.

  "You are despicable. To trap me into a marriage that I never once encouraged. Jesus, you're English. An English princess. What the hell am I supposed to do with you at a horse farm? God damn it!" A small stool flew across the floor, propelled by his bare foot.

  She gasped, struck by hurt and sudden alarm. She had known he wouldn't be happy, but she hadn't thought he'd be quite so mad. What did it matter anyway, if he was the first or the tenth?

  "You were a virgin. You could have married anyone. Why do this to me?"

  She blinked back tears and the urge to hit him. "Don't be stupid," she yelled instead of slapping. "Why would I want to marry you?" He didn't even look her way, simply kept pacing and panting, enraged because he might have to suffer her presence for the rest of his life.

  "I am the daughter of a duke. I am rich, richer than you'll ever be, Collin Blackburn. What the hell makes you think I would deign to marry a Scots bastard who breeds horses for money?" That got his attention, froze him in his tracks. "I wasn't looking for marriage, you idiot. I was looking to get 'plowed' as you so eloquently put it. Really, what's the point of being a whore if you can't enjoy yourself once in a while?"

  " 'Enjoy yourself.''"

  The rush of her anger drained away at the hatred in his eyes. When he took a step, she backed away.

  "Ye wee selfish bitch. You've been handed everything your whole life. Everything and still it wasn't enough. You had to ruin your brother's life and your own. My brother too. And now me.

  "I was one of those shiny things you wanted, eh? An­other toy to entertain you? Well, you've had me. Was it as good as you expected, spreading your legs for a low-born Scot?"

  Her chin shook, giving her away. She clenched her teeth and glared. "No," she answered, very clearly. "No, it wasn't nearly as good as I'd hoped."

  She had thought him angry enough, but her reckless, spiteful words goaded him into fury. The skin of his face tightened and paled, and his silver eyes glittered. She took another step back, actually flinched when he raised his arm. She stared at his large hand, waiting for it to strike her, but he only ran it through his hair, gaping in disgust at her fear.

  "Do you think me an animal, Alex? Is that why you wanted me? The danger of a man who might strike you when you need it?"

  "No, I. . ." Her throat closed up with tears that she re­fused to let out. "I just wanted to be with you."

  "You knew I would not want this. You knew I would never have done this if I'd known."

  "I did," she answered with false bravado. "But I never lied to you. You just assumed."

  Collin shook his head and the sadness on his face thick­ened the tears in her throat. "I did assume. You're right. And you will marry me now, whether you will it or no."

  "I won't."

&nb
sp; "I'll go to your brother and tell him what's happened."

  "No. I'll deny it. . . that I was a virgin. I'll tell him you're after my fortune."

  He drew back, taking her in with cold eyes this time, eyes that measured her and found her less than he'd ex­pected. "You'd truly do that?"

  "I would."

  His face turned from her. He looked out the window, at nothing, at darkness. She watched the anger drain from him, watched his shoulders slump.

  "I tried hard not to dishonor you when I thought you a harlot. To be the one to make you into that. . ." The sound of his choking laugh made her ache. "You knew it would hurt me."

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, as one tear finally escaped her control. "I'm sorry. I wanted you, you're right. But it's not fair. If I were a man—"

  "But you're not a man. You're a woman—a girl, it seems."

  "I don't want to marry," she cried out, frustrated and hurt. "You or anyone else. My life is more now than it ever was. I am free to do as I please."

  "Don't be childish," he spat. "You are not free. Where are all your friends? Where are your loyal suitors? You are free to dress as a boy and roust about with laborers, but what of a husband? What of children?"

  "I don't want—"

  "And your brother will marry one day, have a wife and a family. Will she be happy to have you hanging about, running her estate, crowding her responsibilities?"

  Alex sneered at him, outraged that he would try to take apart her life. "My brother would never marry a woman who did not welcome me."

  "I'm glad you don't mind so limiting his choice of mate."

  When she raised a hand to push a stray curl off her fore­head, she was frightened to see how badly it shook. Collin didn't notice. He was staring at the floor now, hard, as if it had gotten him into this mess. His breath jumped out in a great huff and he glanced at her, then away as he moved to grab his boots.

  "I need to think."

  Staring at him, afraid to speak, she wondered if he was leaving, if he would just resaddle his horse and ride away. As she watched, he tucked in his shirt, fastened his buttons, pulled on his boots and coat. He did not once look at her, did not say a word before he turned and walked out the door, shutting it with a quiet thump.