To Tempt a Scotsman Read online

  Heat, he thought. She tasted like heat and lust and sweetness. Her small hand smoothed from his neck to the' curls of hair just above his collar and clutched him there, and Collin felt his cock swell.

  Jesus, he must be mad. He had to let her go, but he couldn't stop his hand from curving over her waist and pulling her hard against his arousal. Wisps of panic iced his veins, but between her fiery mouth and clutching hand all he could think of was having more of her.

  The roundness of her backside tempted the edge of his palm. Even as he thought of exploring it, he realized he'd al­ready swept his arm down, and now he found her gorgeous bottom cupped in his hand, the perfect shape to fill it.

  A small sound vibrated into his mouth. A tantalizing sound, something between a purr and a moan. Searing lust shot through him like fire, banishing his alarm, and he groaned and pressed his hips against her belly.

  The sun shone hot on them, and Collin felt her hand slide up under his coat and then the shock of her fingers pressing into his back. Even through his linen shirt, the feel of her touching him was so unexpected that it gave him the strength to try to pull away, but she pressed small kisses to his jaw and throat and murmured his name. When he felt the sharpness of her teeth against his skin, he jumped and set her apart from him.

  "We canna do this," he panted.

  "What? Why?"

  He could only answer her confusion with a pained laugh.

  "Collin," she moaned, "please." Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips. She stared at his mouth like it might save her from some dire danger.

  She needed to be startled to her senses just as he had been. "Think about this, Alex. Do you want me to take you here? Right here in the open, on the ground?" He threw the words at her in a growl—an insult, a threat—but they had the opposite effect he'd intended.

  Instead of drawing herself up in outrage, instead of slap­ping his face with the flat of her hand, she parted her flushed lips and sighed, and her eyes flared with blue desire. "Oh, yes," she breathed. "Would you please?"

  "Oh, God." He didn't recall moving toward her, but she was in his arms. He lifted her, carried her to a soft patch of grass sheltered beneath a tree, and laid her gently on the ground.

  "You canna expect me to ignore a pretty request like that," he murmured, pressing his mouth to the salt-damp skin of her neck. Her delighted laugh sealed his fate, and Collin lost his hard-fought battle with lust.

  Alex arched her neck to give him full access to that sen­sitive spot just below her ear. She felt the press of one of his hard thighs between her legs and scooted her knees farther apart as he kissed and nipped at her skin, and the muscles of her belly tightened at the feel of his body be­tween her legs.

  She couldn't keep from humming in pleasure and was thrilled when her sighs excited him further, excited him until he kissed her so deeply her body ached with it.

  Urging him on, pushing him further, she eased her hands beneath the shoulders of his coat and slid the fabric back as far as she could. He broke away from her mouth, rising up to tear off his coat in one great shrug. Before she could manage to even pull his shirt past his breeches, he had framed her face with his hands and kissed her again, more carefully, nearly gently.

  That gentleness stopped the press of her need for an in­stant, brushing against her heart instead of her body. She almost pulled her mouth from his, almost pressed a hand to his chest to end this mad embrace. She almost tried to reason with her selfish body. Almost. But when he groaned and slicked his tongue over hers, she let her conscience sink back to its hiding place beneath her lust.

  The sea breeze caressed her, tried to cool her skin but didn't succeed. She felt the brush of air on her thigh, and knew that his knee had pushed higher, raising her skirts up her legs. His hand left her face to skim down her body, down to her knee, then up to push her skirt higher so he could slide the calloused pads of his fingers over the skin just above her stocking.

  A terrible and wonderful tension coiled in her belly. She'd certainly been touched before, but the simple brush of a man's fingers over skin had never affected her like this. His mouth moved over hers with such delicious skill, but all she could do was close her eyes and wonder at the effect his hand had on her body. His fingers brushed over her thigh, rising slowly up, closer to that place where everything tightened to a shuddering pulse. The anticipa­tion built to torment, and she cried out before his hand had even traveled halfway up her thigh.

  A growl sprang from his mouth to hers, and his hand gripped her leg in a tight hold for a moment before he slid his palm up the last few inches of her thigh. He stroked just the barest touch against the curls between her legs, and she jerked her mouth from his, gasping and straining, then crying out when his hand lifted to hover over her, a cruel torment.

  Desperate, she opened her clenched eyes to slits to see him. His face looked carved from stone, it was edged so sharply, but his jaw jumped in time with her own pulse. Fearing he would change his mind and cry off, she squirmed beneath him, pushed her hips up till his hand was flush against her. He lowered his mouth to hers again and curled his fingers into the wetness.

  "Collin!" His name flew from her lips as he slid one finger into her slick seam, then farther, until he was snug inside her body and so, so deep. She wanted to tremble, wanted to buck beneath him, but she held herself still, wait­ing. His finger slid out, out, then slipped to trace tiny cir­cles around a little nub of sensation.

  "Oh," she moaned, turning her face away. "Oh, yes."

  It felt like torture, like she would die from the pleasure and pressure curling deep in her belly. She'd wanted so badly to be calm and irresistible and enticing to this man and all she could do was push herself against him and try not to scream as he rubbed and thrust and stroked.

  Tiny shivers took her body, starting somewhere in her knees and working up, up, up till even her chin shook.

  "Alex."

  She heard her name against her throat just before her back arched and her hips jerked so hard that she sobbed. Every feeling in her body rose and spun and thrummed through her until it spiraled tight and exploded, and she fi­nally grew limp against him.

  "Oh, Collin," she sighed one last time and let her head fall back to the green ground.

  * * *

  Collin's smile nearly split his face. A man could live his whole life and never hear his name spoken with that kind of reverence.

  He'd lost any will to resist her long minutes before. She wanted him and he certainly wanted her and they were both adults. Young as she was, she was no innocent, there was no reason to protect her from her wants.

  Now he was simply fighting not to throw her skirts over her head and push roughly into that tight heat.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, took several deep breaths. Her response had shattered his control. She'd reacted to even the simplest touch with such unbridled pleasure that he worried he would hurt her in his eagerness. Not that she wasn't ready. Not that she wasn't so slippery that his mouth watered. Still, he had yet to even undress her.

  Slowly, missing the warmth of her already, he slid his finger out of her limp body. "I hope you're not planning to sleep now."

  A soft smile played over her lips as he unbuttoned her jacket. "No. No, I couldn't bear to miss a thing."

  Finished with the jacket, he went to work on the buttons of her demure white shirt. Alex's drowsy eyes met his as he reached the last button and his hand smoothed the fabric away from her. Her corset was cut low, and her breasts rose above it, covered by only the thinnest linen of her shift.

  His eyes fell to the tiny bows that held the chemise to­gether, and he watched as his callused brown fingers pulled at the blue bows. The linen parted in a slow revela­tion. He felt her eyes on his face as he slid the fabric down and his fingers brushed over bare skin. She was small and perfect, the warm rise of her just fitting into his palm.

  He felt curiously unhurried now, though his cock strained at the tightness of his breeches. He let his hand r
est still against her hot skin a moment, absorbed the hard thud of her heart into his palm before he slid it aside and lowered his mouth. His tongue circled the pink tip of her breast, felt it harden and peak against him. Alex sighed and

  her fingers curled into his hair. He took the hard pebble of her nipple into his mouth and laved his tongue against her until he felt her hands tighten to fists.

  Urgency came upon him again, and he shifted and bared her other breast to taste that one as well. She moaned and raised her knees into a V that cradled him between her thighs. His clothes were suddenly the roughest wool cloth against his skin.

  Collin knelt between those raised legs, tugged at his cravat, and tore his fingers down the buttons of his shirt. Her flushed face stared up at him, her small, beautiful breasts heaved with the force of her breath.

  An unwelcome sound floated to his ears over the thump of his heart and the steady rush of the sea. He froze, shift­ing his eyes to a place above her body.

  "Collin, what—?"

  He raised a hand for silence, but she groaned when the clear jingle of a harness chimed from the west.

  Hands already closing his shirt, he stood to retrieve his coat and laid it over her nakedness. "A rider. Stay here."

  Throwing her hands over her eyes, Alexandra blew out a loud sigh that followed him as he walked away.

  Collin slipped into the trees, then worked his way back toward Thor. The jingling of the harness grew louder with each step.

  By the time he reached Thor, he'd spotted the wheel ruts of a much-used trail twenty yards away. It seemed to follow the western edge of the wooded area. Looking back to where Alex lay, he was relieved to see no sign of her. He couldn't even see Brinn from here.

  He stayed in the shadows, unwilling to take the risk of some friendly traveler stopping for a long chat. He was not in the mood. Still, he wasn't in quite the same mood he had been a bare minute ago.

  His blood had definitely cooled, he realized with some disappointment as he watched a tinker's cart emerge from the copse of trees and rumble past. The tinker himself looked to be asleep at the reins. Collin watched for a good ten minutes to be sure that the cart continued on its way, then sighed with no small amount of sorrow as he turned to work his way back to the lovely Alexandra.

  His brain had sprung back to vigilant attention. Damn. She was by far the most responsive woman he'd ever had the pleasure of touching. Holding her had been like hold­ing a living fire in his arms, a fire that threatened to burn out of control at any moment.

  A few minutes ago he'd thought he would die if he didn't slide himself into the core of her. Now, mourning the loss of that pleasure, he would have to help her back into her clothes and escort her home.

  Why had he been cursed with a mother who'd brow­beaten him into responsibility?

  He approached their makeshift bed and saw her still lying on the grass. As he drew closer, his scowl relaxed into a smile. She'd fallen asleep. Despite the danger of being spied by a traveler, she hadn't even bothered to dress. She'd only pulled down her skirts and drawn his coat close before curling onto her side.

  As quietly as he could, Collin sat on the grass next to her, arms resting on his bent knees. He watched her, stud­ied her face, turned as it was toward the shade. Her lovely pink mouth had relaxed in sleep, lips parted slightly and curved just the tiniest bit into a smile.

  By God, she was a beauty. Her heart-shaped face was delicate—the perfect foil for those huge blue eyes. Her black hair contrasted deliciously with pale skin, especially the pale skin of her belly and thighs.

  No, he told himself sternly. Do not think of that.

  Even her imperfections were perfect. The freckles made her seem real. And the too-strong jut of her chin matured what might have been a child-like face.

  Still, she looked young and fragile, a fairy princess caught in a nap.

  The soft breeze picked up a stray curl and it whispered over her cheek to caress her lip. Collin gently brushed it away and leaned in to replace it with a kiss. Those blue eyes of hers peeked out beneath heavy lids.

  "Collin," she breathed and he remembered very clearly how he had lost himself in that mouth so easily. But he only smiled down at her.

  "Do you feel as lovely as you look?"

  Her smile turned to a grin as she rolled to her back and stretched like a well-fed kitten, shirt gaping open to reveal one shell-pink nipple. Collin took a deep breath and reached toward her—he couldn't help himself—but he forced his twitching fingers to draw the shirt together. Her naughty smile faltered when he began to refasten the buttons.

  "What are you doing?"

  Collin fought the urge to laugh out loud. Any other young miss would have spoken those words if he had had the gall to try to unbutton her blouse.

  "I'm fixing your clothes," he finally replied.

  "But you . . . I mean . . . We are not done!

  He did laugh then, as he moved on to the next button. "I think we'd best be done after all."

  Alex gasped and slapped his hands away from her half-open shirt. "No! Stop that!"

  His smile gentled at the confusion in her eyes. "Alex. We can't do this."

  "I was under the impression that we were doing it quite successfully before we were interrupted."

  He didn't know now whether to laugh or cry at her out­rageous statement. He had keen memories of just how nicely it had been going.

  "Alexandra, you are—"

  She cut him off with a frantic wave of her hand, eyes flashing danger at him. "If you dare to bring up my broth­er's title again, I will hurt you."

  "Your social status is nothing to be scoffed at. However—" he held up a hand when he saw her lips part—"I was going to say that you are George's cousin and a friend to Lucy and it would be unconscionable for me to take advantage of their friendship by. . . by taking advantage of you."

  Her luscious mouth thinned to a hard line of displeasure. "I had not planned to run back and announce what we'd done. And I'd hardly call it taking advantage."

  His hand felt rough when he ran it over his face, and his throat felt rougher when he spoke. "I'm sorry, Alex. Be­lieve me. I am sorry. But this cannot be."

  She blinked, looked away from him. That stubborn jaw worked hard to clench and unclench her teeth. High spots of red burned her cheeks.

  "Fine, Blackburn. You obviously have your reasons. Shall we return to the house then?"

  He watched her hurriedly fasten the last three buttons of her shirt and stand. She adjusted her skirts with rough twitches and tucked in her shirt, all without meeting his eyes. He saw the exact moment her face cleared of all emotion. When she turned to look about for her discarded jacket, he reached to take her hand. "Alex, please don't."

  "Don't what, Mr. Blackburn?"

  "I'm trying to do the right thing by you. Don't look past me like that."

  She finally met his eyes and he saw them warm to just above freezing. "It is a rather uncomfortable situation, is it not?"

  "It does not have to be. It was a surpassingly lovely morning."

  Her lips quirked. "I did enjoy myself."

  "Well, lassie,"—he couldn't resist pressing a quick peck to her mouth—"so did I."

  Alex glanced away and forced a wider smile. He was very sweet to lie to her like that. It was part of the problem, this extreme likeability of his.

  "We should head back," she murmured. "We will miss luncheon."

  Her not-quite lover nodded and bent to retrieve his coat. He gave her a searching look before he walked away toward Thor.

  When he'd gone, she put her hands to her face and groaned. How embarrassing this all was. She should have learned her lesson the last time she'd been humiliated by her baser needs. Of course, that time had been nothing like this. No, this time had been very nearly worth any amount of embarrassment.

  Nearly. It had taken her a few awkward moments to re­alize he was rejecting her. She'd offered herself to him like the harlot she was, and he had, very politely, turne
d her down. She didn't even know that men would do that.

  He must find her wanting in some way. She almost smiled at the thought, despite her rising humiliation. Oh, she was wanting all right.

  Not waiting for help from him, she scrambled onto Brinn's back and stared out at the sea until she heard the soft sound of hooves behind her. When she turned, she found Collin watching her intently and smiled for his ben­efit. No need to make him feel guilty for something she had forced between them.

  During the long ride back, Alex made every effort to keep some distance between their horses, trying, simulta­neously, not to make it obvious. But as they drew closer to the manor, Collin pulled his horse next to hers and said her name.

  She sent him a vacuous smile. "Alexandra, I wanted to ask you. . ." "Yes?"

  "Will you contact me if St. Claire writes again?"

  She frowned, blinked. She had not expected to hear him speak of it again. "I. . . But what of the information I gave you?"

  He shook his head. "Old."

  "Oh." More humiliation to add to his account. "You didn't tell me."

  He had the grace, at least, to shift in his saddle. "When I left Somerhart, I left with the intention of coming back in two weeks to see if you'd received additional letters. But I thought, now, considering the circumstances, perhaps it would be better if you simply sent me notice next time."

  Her spine stiffened. What did he mean by "the circum­stances?" And had he shown interest in her just to secure her cooperation?

  She glared at him, and he looked back, mouth flat and miserable, but his eyes did not avoid hers. No. No, he hadn't used her. He seemed more noble than any nobleman she'd ever met. And anyway, he hadn't bothered to cement their relationship nearly as tightly as he could have. The very uncomfortable "circum-stance" he'd referred to, no doubt.

  "I'll send the direction," she said simply.

  When they reached the manor, she tossed her reins to a groom while Collin led his own horse to the stables. She hurried into the house and up the stairs and told herself she had no reason to be mad at him for rejecting her when she was the woman who'd betrayed his brother so vilely. She should be thankful he could be kind to her, be friendly. But as she closed her bedroom door with a firm thud, thankful­ness was the least of her emotions.