Chapter 18 #2
“Ye could’ve ignored the note,” he said, stepping toward her. “Or handed it to yer sister and let her throw it back at me. But ye didn’t. Ye came. So, tell me why.”
“That’s an awfully presumptuous thing to say, Your Grace,” she replied, her chin lifting, but her voice shook at the edges.
She didn’t turn fully away. Not yet.
He took another step forward, slow and deliberate, until the firelight glinted off the strands of her hair. Her scent, lavender and something soft, like the powder on the stationery she’d used in that drawing she’d sent him, wrapped around him.
Her face was a map of conflict. She’d always been easy to read if he looked hard enough, and right now, her eyes were screaming at him even while her mouth tried to act indifferent.
“Ye’re wrong, ye ken,” he murmured. “And I ken what I feel. When I saw ye with those lords…” His voice dropped, hoarse. “Ye were actin’. Pretending to enjoy their nonsense.”
“Pretending?” she repeated sharply, turning back to face him. “You think I was pretending? That I am incapable of enjoying their company?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at her as if trying to memorize her entire face.
“Aye,” he said at last. “Because I’ve seen the way ye laugh when it’s real. And that laughter tonight? It was for them. For their benefit. It wasn’t for ye.”
“You’re impossible,” she whispered, her fists clenched at her sides. “Isn’t this what you taught me? To be charming. To be confident. To convince them I am someone worth marrying. Shouldn’t you be celebrating your success?”
His jaw tightened. “I should. But I’m not.”
Their eyes locked. The tension between them snapped taut, humming between heartbeats. He could feel it down to his bones.
“They don’t deserve ye, Elizabeth.”
She flinched. “You don’t know that,” she whispered, though her voice was starting to shake. “You act as though you know me.”
“I do know ye,” he said, stepping closer again, until there was only a whisper of air between them. “I’ve seen ye angry. I’ve seen ye scared. I’ve seen ye flushed after a kiss, and breathless after I touched ye. I know what ye sound like when ye want more and don’t dare ask for it.”
She sucked in a breath, her composure clearly slipping.
He dropped his voice, almost reverent. “And those men tonight? They don’t see what I see. They see yer dowry, yer face, the cut of yer gown. But I see the lass who sends drawings instead of letters. The one who sketches me eatin’ a damned macaron like it’s the most intimate moment she can imagine.”
Her face turned scarlet.
“Stop it,” she said, trembling. “You—you have no right to speak of it like that.”
“Oh, but I do,” he said, his voice deepening. “Ye gave it to me. And when I looked at it, Elizabeth, I felt seen. Not as a duke. Not as a Scot. As a man. As myself.”
She looked overwhelmed, as if the words were unravelling her.
“I—” she started, but couldn’t finish. Her lips parted, struggling.
Then she turned. A retreat.
He couldn’t let her go.
He reached out and caught her wrist firmly. Not harshly, but enough to stop her.
“Let me pass,” she snapped, spinning toward him.
“Not until ye beg,” he answered, low and rough.
“You devil!”
He released her at once, stepping back like he’d been struck. “Aye. I’ll be that. But not to ye. Not unless ye want me to be.”
She didn’t move. Her breath hitched.
“Those lords will never know what stirs in that beautiful mind of yers,” he continued. “They’ll never understand how yer fingers linger over a page when ye’ve something honest. They’ll never make ye feel what ye’re capable of feelin’.”
“Stop,” she whispered again, her voice cracking, her eyes now shimmering in the firelight.
He reached for her, his hand cupping her cheek with aching gentleness.
“They’ll never hear yer moans,” he said, his voice like a sin. “They’ll never taste yer name on their lips like I have.”
Her lashes fluttered. Her body leaned into him. Her hands trembled, but they didn’t push him away.
“Ye said stop before. Tell it to me again, and I will,” he whispered, his breath brushing her lips.
She didn’t speak.
He kissed her. Gently, at first, and softly, almost hesitantly.
Then, when she didn’t pull away, deeper. He poured everything into the kiss. His need. His reverence. His hunger.
Her hands gripped his coat, pulling him closer as her body melted into his.
He groaned as her lips parted for him, as her tongue met his tenderly then hotly. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She gasped when his mouth trailed to her jaw, then her throat.
“Alasdair,” she breathed, her voice soaked in wonder and desire.
“Elizabeth,” he rasped back, ravenous.
She clung to him when he lifted her gently, pressing her back against the wall. He kissed down her neck, tugged at the neckline of her gown until it slipped, baring one perfect breast.
“Let me worship ye,” he whispered, as he lowered his mouth to her.
Her moan was the answer he needed.
He licked, tasted, savored. Her nipple tightened under his tongue, and she arched into him. His other hand fondled her other breast, coaxing another helpless sound from her throat.
“Ye’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “So brave. So perfect.”
She tried to speak but only moaned again. Her legs parted instinctively.
“Ye want more,” he said, voice rough.
“Y-yes,” she gasped. “Please.”
“I knew that word suited yer lips, darlin’,” he replied.
Then, he knelt before her, reverent, lifting her skirts slowly. He traced her thighs, then pressed a kiss to her damp core. She trembled.
“So wet,” he murmured. “So ready.”
He found her nub of pleasure, tasting it like he would a cherished confection.
One lick. Then another. Then a flurry until she was shaking against the wall.
When she was panting, almost undone, he slipped one long finger inside her. Then two. Slow, deep strokes, meant to tease and torment.
“That’s it, Elizabeth. Take it. Feel it.”
Her hips moved with him, her breath ragged. Then he rose and kissed her just as she shattered, her cry swallowed by his mouth. Her slick walls pulsed around his fingers, her thighs quivering.
He held her through it, then gently lowered her skirts and stroked her cheek.
Her eyes were wide, dazed. But then, they cleared, and the shy smile she gave him nearly brought him to his knees.
“This isn’t wise,” she whispered.
“Of course it isnae,” he said as his lips brushed her temple. “But it’s worth it. Ye’re worth it. And I’ll prove it to ye.”