A Scandalous Scot (36 page)

He took a step closer to her. “If you go with Andrew now, Catriona, you’ll never be more than what he makes you. Is that the choice you want to make?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. Did she think herself in love? How did he convince her Andrew wasn’t worth the effort? Today, he might want Catriona. Tomorrow, however, his eyes might linger on another woman.

“Catriona,” Andrew said, approaching them. He stretched out his hand to her. “Come with me. We’ll have a lovely life together.”

“He’s married,” Morgan said. “Did he tell you that?”

She nodded.

“I love you,” Andrew said, a remark that had Morgan frowning. How many women had heard Andrew’s avowal?

“Will you live the life you choose, Catriona?” he asked her. “Or the life Andrew chooses for you?”

She smiled, then, and Morgan marveled at her beauty. Catriona would be well received wherever she went.

“Catriona, please,” Andrew said.

Perhaps Andrew did feel something for Catriona. A pity, since he had a wife and five children waiting at home. Andrew needed to visit his family more often.

Catriona turned, and without a backward glance, placed her hand on Morgan’s arm.

“Jean said you were kind,” she said. “But I thought she was saying that because you were her husband and she had to.”

His laughter surprised them both. “I doubt Jean would say anything just because she had to.”

“She really will make quite a good countess,” Catriona said.

He nodded. “I do believe you’re right.”

Before he could say more, screams interrupted them.

He turned to see his countess, the irrepressible Jean, bent over the neck of a horse, her hands clenched in its mane. He couldn’t decide who was more terrified, the wide-eyed horse or Jean. But since he was married to the latter, he went to her rescue.

Chapter 34

RULES FOR STAFF:
None of the equipment, service, tools, or equipage belonging to the family is to be used by the staff.

“A
re you feeling better after your equestrienne adventure?” Morgan asked, entering the sitting room.

Jean felt warmth suffuse her face, which didn’t displease her all that much. Morgan had said she was beautiful with a blush. Silly man.

“I am,” she said. “But you needn’t have treated me like I was an invalid. I’m perfectly fine. Only a little sore. And Sally? Has she recuperated as well?”

“Sally’s none the worse for wear. Guthrie’s been cooing to her all evening, and has given her an extra ration of feed.”

“I can just imagine what he’s saying to the poor horse. ‘Never mind, Sally, I’ll never let the nasty woman on your back again.’ ”

Morgan’s laugh had a booming sound that filled the room and made her smile.

“And Catriona? Safely on her way?” he asked.

“She couldn’t wait to leave,” she said. “I think she was afraid you’d withdraw your offer. Does your aunt know what to expect?”

“I sent along a letter of introduction, enough money to see her through the end of the year, and a warning to Catriona. If she doesn’t behave, she’ll be forced to do good works with my aunt. My aunt is very strong on good works.”

“And Andrew is no doubt in Inverness by now,” Jean said. “Good riddance to him.”

He came to stand in front of her, reaching for the empty cup she held.

“My footman,” she said, as he placed it on the nearby table.

He didn’t respond, merely lifted her out of her chair and sat again, with her in his arms.

She made a sound of surprise, but settled back into place quickly enough. A remarkable experience, sitting on Morgan’s lap.

“I’m not ill,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I know,” he said. “I just wanted to hold you.”

She was silent after that surprising announcement.

“Thank you,” she said. “For what you’ve done for Catriona.”

“I was thinking about sending her to my aunt before she decided to leave with Andrew. I should have mentioned it earlier.”

They sat companionably for a moment.

“I do respect you,” he said, startling her again.

She raised up and looked at him.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about trust and respect being paired. I think you’re right. And I wanted you to know I do respect you.”

She waited, but when he didn’t say anything else, she asked, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he said, and the word was so quickly spoken she knew it was true.

Turning, she placed her hands on either side of his face, reached up and kissed him. Sometimes, he shaved twice a day, but today he hadn’t, and the bristly feel of his whiskers against her palms was curiously arousing.

She wanted to thank him for being a gentle lover, for teaching her about passion, for giving her pleasure. She wanted to thank him for his kindnesses, not just to Catriona, but also to her. He’d never ridiculed her, even in her silliest moments, or when she’d gone exploring for ghosts. Instead, he’d shared the adventure with her.

Morgan was not the arrogant boor she’d thought him at their first meeting. Instead, he was a complicated, intense man who sought to achieve his father’s honor, never realizing he’d surpassed the 8th earl in decency, caring, and responsibility. For the last few days, he’d been the steward of Ballindair, and when his daily duties were done, he’d spent time with Mr. Seath.

She’d believed him to be autocratic, and now she knew that the man who’d first come home to Ballindair had been in pain. She folded her arms around his neck, placed her cheek against his and wished she could remove those memories, as well as any of his doubts.

He deserved someone to love him, and she did. He deserved someone to honor him, and she did. But he also deserved someone to be honest with him, and she’d not yet done so.

He pulled back and kissed her, and tears peppered her eyes beneath closed lids.

She loved his kisses, loved everything about him. Even when he annoyed her, he charmed her.

Standing, she stood and stretched out her hand to him. Without a word, they went into the bedroom, and in the light of the Highland night, she removed her clothes. When he would have moved to help her, she shook her head. She wanted to come to him naked, to bare everything of her body since she couldn’t share her mind, her past, or a great many of her thoughts.

When it was done, when the clothing was neatly folded and placed on a chair, she pulled down the counterpane of the bed and knelt there, reaching for him.

First, his shirt, and once that was done, she placed her hands flat against his chest. How magnificent he was. Muscles ranged from his corded neck all the way down to his broad and long feet.

“You’ll have to do the rest,” she said, pointing to his trousers.

He only smiled and rid himself of his clothing.

The light in the room should have shamed her. She should have kept beneath the covers instead of letting him look his fill. But as she touched him, she could feel his eyes on her.

She reached out and held that part of him that fascinated her. She knew he liked her to explore him, with her fingers and her mouth. Now, she dared herself to make his eyes darken and his breath come fast.

A powerful man, one momentarily in her thrall.

Her hands moved from his beautiful cock to rest on his hips.

“May I touch you?” he asked, his voice a husky burr.

“Where?” she asked softly, her words a mere breath of sound.

“Here,” he said, placing one finger against her shoulder.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” she said primly.

She sat back on her heels, pulling him closer. When he mounted the bed to kneel in front of her, she reached around him to squeeze his beautiful muscular buttocks.

The finger he’d placed on her shoulder moved to trace a path to the base of her throat and from there to rest between her breasts. Slowly, as if asking permission, the finger moved to the left, over the curving slope of her breast to rest against her nipple.

She would have cautioned him that she’d not given him permission to touch her there, but his finger slowly twirled around the nipple, causing heat to blossom deep inside.

She closed her eyes, the better to experience the sensation, an awakening, perhaps. A dampening, readying herself for him.

His kiss made her lose her concentration, until all she could think about was him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, breasts against his chest, her cleft pressing against his length.

Suddenly, she was on her back and he was over her, kissing her ear, her throat, her breasts, an exploration conducted with lips, mouth, and gentle whispers as he lingered over select locations.

Smiling, she threaded her fingers through his thick hair, her heart expanding with an indescribable joy.

His fingers danced among her swollen folds, her legs widening instinctively. He tasted her then, his tongue darting, circling, teasing.

“Morgan.” His name sent chills through her.

“Jean.” He kissed his way back up her body, whispered her name in her ear. “Jean,” he said again.

Time elongated, then narrowed to frame only the two of them. If the world outside this bed existed, she neither felt nor saw it. Only Morgan with his teasing smile and intoxicating kisses, who touched her with slow fingers, as if fascinated by the sensation of skin against skin.

When he entered her, so slowly she almost screamed at the restraint of it, her hands gripped his shoulders, then his waist, then his buttocks to pull him to her.

He refused to hurry, however, torturing her with need.

She made a helpless murmur and won a quick kiss for it. She placed her palm against his cheek, before gripping his shoulders with insistent hands, anchoring him in place by a touch gone suddenly dominant and needful.

She wanted the moments to last forever. Let her forever recall the touch of his tongue, the tenderness of his kiss against each eyelid, his soft breath as he nuzzled the hair at her temple, then kissed the curve of her ear.

Her mouth opened against his skin, her tongue tasting him.

The bedchamber became an oasis of shadows, a place of whispered promises, grazing kisses, and the touch of his fingers gliding over her skin. Her fingers clenched on his upper arms, then shoulders, before grasping his back as he entered her. Her breath caught on a sob as her forehead ground against his shoulder, her eyes tight as her body responded, knowing him, trusting him, as he led her into a land of pleasure.

For a few moments she was lost in the movement, the hot, slick feel of his body thrusting into hers: torso to breast, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. She lifted up, wanting more, needing more, until she felt something give, an abrupt surrender that poured molten bliss into a hundred places in her body and melted her bones.

She murmured his name, and he clenched, emptying himself into her with a throaty growl that ended with a kiss.

Were those her legs or his? And whose hand lay possessively between her breasts, fingers splayed? Lost in the throbbing aftershocks of passion, she didn’t care.

Morgan smiled at her when she opened her eyes. Embarrassment warmed her. When the blush traveled to her cheeks, he laughed, raised his head and kissed her.

She was reminded of the first time she’d seen him. If she’d known then what she knew now, she might well have grabbed him and kissed him soundly. She did exactly that, kissing his smile.

The light revealed the teasing glint in his eyes, the tousled black hair, the sheer beauty of his shoulders and chest. She leaned to the side to get a glimpse of his buttocks, smiling at herself.

“And just what are you looking at?” he asked, brushing a kiss across her nose.

“Your lovely backside, Your Lordship.”

Before this moment, with his smile coming wicked and amused, she might never have confessed to such a thing.

“Never the likes of those breasts of yours, Your Ladyship.”

She smiled back at him, feeling his equal in this moment, captivated by passion, and perhaps a little bemused by it.

When they loved again, it was sweet and simple, she rising and falling away, him setting the slow and silky rhythm. When pleasure seeped through her, it was with grace and delicacy, a reminder that passion can have a pure edge, and one not so needy.

Delight unfurled where they joined, and deep inside petals of bliss traveled outward. Her legs trembled, her fingers tingled, her breath hitched even as her blood surged through her body.

On a sigh, she surrendered, becoming nothing more than a feeling, a color, a wisp. Only Morgan kept her from disappearing.

She wrapped her arms around him and sighed again, holding him with tenderness and quiet joy.

Loving him, as she’d never loved another.

Chapter 35

RULES FOR STAFF:
Attend all church services in suitable, respectable attire and with the appropriate demeanor.

W
ith Catriona gone from Ballindair, the castle became an almost enchanted place. Or perhaps it was Andrew’s absence that was responsible for Morgan’s pervasive feeling of relief.

If it rained, he blessed the fact it would aid the crops. If it remained sunny, he took pleasure in the Highland summer day. Nothing could disturb his ebullience, unless it was the condition of his steward, a man he was coming to admire more each day.

Or perhaps the whole of his existence was made better by the presence of one woman, his surprising wife. Even thinking of her made him smile, and when he caught himself doing that, he laughed, and focused once more on his tasks.

When gloaming swirled at the base of the trees, and waning sunlight sparkled through the highest branches, Morgan would put down his ledgers, dismiss any visitors to the library, and nearly sprint to the Laird’s Tower.

They’d not given up the habit of eating dinner in the sitting room, and it was a cozy prelude to a night promising passion and wonder, surprise and delight.

He’d never felt this way before, and it amazed and amused him. At the bottom of those feelings was another: caution. Jean was, with every smile and comment, beginning to wrap herself around his consciousness and embed herself in his mind. Perhaps she was even stealing little bits of his soul.