School For Heiresses 3- Beware A Scot's Revenge (20 page)

She cast him an exasperated glance. “What rule is that?”

“You don’t leave my knee. As long as you remain there, I can’t take yer innocence. But we can still use our mouths and hands to pleasure each other.” He leaned her back against his arm so his hot gaze could pour over her naked breasts. “We can still enjoy each other. Like this.” Lowering his head, he sucked her breast, tonguing and teasing the nipple until she moaned.

“Lachlan, oh, my word…”

“Do you agree to my rule?” he demanded, in between tormenting her breasts with his deft mouth. Desire pooled low in her loins. She would agree to anything if he would just keep doing what he was doing. “Yes, yes, I swear.” She brushed a kiss to his hair. “Now let me…touch you, too.”

With a growl of satisfaction, he released her wrist, only to close her hand around his thickening shaft. She glanced down to see her fingers partly obscured by rich, dark curls. The sight startled her. “I-I never knew that a man had hair down there.”

Squeezing her hand into a stroke along his shaft, he gasped, “Didn’t you?”

“How could I?” She brushed his hand away so she could stroke him on her own. “My only experience of naked men comes from statues, and they have smooth, grapelike privates.”

“Statues and ballads,” he groaned as she fondled him. “Had you no real men in yer life to learn from, lassie? No kissing cousins? No brothers of schoolgirl friends to dally with in the woods?” He tugged on her nipple with his teeth, sending sensations shooting through her.

“None to teach me anything naughty.” Or delicious. She blew out a labored breath. “Although there
was
a book…”

A choked laugh erupted from him. “Of course there was. To go with the naked statues. What sort of girls’ school did you go to, anyway?”

“A fine one,” she said haughtily. “Naked statues are art, you know.”

“And the book? Was that art, too?”

“Hardly. It was about a harem, but it wasn’t terribly detailed about…well…something like this. So I don’t know…that is…” She caressed him tentatively, hesitantly. “Am I doing it properly?”

“There’s nothing proper about what you’re doing to me, lassie.”

“I mean, am I doing it right? Does it please you?”

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“It pleases me something fierce.” He arched against her hand. “But if you could hold a bit tighter and squeeze a bit harder…”

She did as he said, marveling at the silkiness of his skin and rigidity of the flesh beneath. After a few of her long pulls, his eyes slid closed and he hissed a breath through his teeth. “For a woman…who got her knowledge from statues and ballads…you sure know how to…arouse a man. Ye’ll be the death of me yet.”

“That’s my plan. To kill you with pleasure so I can escape.”

“Good plan,” he choked out. “Wish you’d thought of it sooner.”

“So do I.”

With a dark chuckle, he seized her mouth again, his tongue delving deeply as her hand worked his flesh. But kissing her wasn’t enough for him, oh no. Rogue that he was, he soon had her chemise lifted and his hand inside her drawers so he could stroke her between the legs, softly at first and then more firmly. She liked it. A lot. Far more than she’d have expected. Which only proved he’d been right when he’d accused her of being secretly wicked. Every time he touched her, he seemed to rub off more of the lady’s veneer that Mrs. Harris had striven hard to cover her with. A hysterical giggle bubbled out of her, makingLachlan jerk back with a frown. “And what do you find so amusing, lassie?”

“I was thinking…Mrs. Harris should add…
this
to her curriculum,” she managed to gasp, although what he was doing to her was muddling her mind. “She’d get lots more…pupils.”

His eyebrow arched high. “Do you like it, then?”

“T-too much…yes…” she stammered as she tilted her pelvis against his practiced hand. With a gleam in his heated gaze, he slid a finger inside her.

“Lachlan!” she cried, shocked by the bold maneuver. “You can’t do that!”

“Ah, but I can. As long as you stay on my knee, we’ll be fine.” He plumbed her flesh with a knowing smile. “Better than fine, if I’ve anything to say about it.”

His hand certainly had a lot to say about it. It was devilishly witty, too, fondling her below with a deftness that had her squirming for more.

Suddenly he fingered a particularly sensitive spot, and she practically leaped off his lap. “Lord save me!”

“Too late for that, lassie.” He stroked her senseless, making her writhe and wriggle on his knee. “No one’s saving you from me now. I mean to see you find your bliss before the night is gone.”

“My bliss…” She stared up into his heavy-lidded eyes as the word provoked a memory. “So
that’s
what it means!”

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He blinked, but didn’t pause in his caresses. “What?”

“A-a naughty ballad I read. It talks about…bliss. I never understood it before…it says Darby wants to seize on the lock…that lies in Oonagh’s moss of curls between two red lips…”

A rasp of a chuckle left his lips. “I know the ballad. And you, princess, must be wickeder than I realized, if that’s the sort of ballad you collect.”

She tried to glare at him, but how could she when he was touching her so wonderfully? “It was merely…an academic interest,” she said, then shamelessly belied the words when he thrust another finger deep inside her, and she grabbed at his forearm to guide his motion. “Oh, my…that is…”

“Aye,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Perhaps you’d care to…share that academic interest with me.”

His fingers drove into her below with a rhythm that beat through her like a gypsy’s tambourine, drowning out conscious thought. “What?”

“You’re not doing
yer
part, princess,” he reminded her. Only then did she realize she’d stopped fondling him, too caught up in what he was doing to her to notice. “Oh! Right…sorry…”

She returned to stroking him, and he let out a sigh that soon turned to gasping. “Ah, lass…yes…keep doing that…until I say to stop…harder now…faster…aye, like that…God help me…”

After that there were no more words, for they were straining together, each intent on the other’s enjoyment, working their hands in counterpoint, caressing heated skin and slick flesh as their need drummed higher and higher, crescendoing to a roar and then a scream—

Her
scream as pleasure pierced her, sharp and sweet, driving her beyond her senses.Lachlan swallowed her scream with his hot, searching mouth even while his own body went taut, his flesh spasming beneath her fingers.

As she reeled from the unfamiliar shocks of sensation, he yanked his hand from between her legs to grip the towel tightly around her hand. Then a warm fluid poured out of him, over her fingers and into the cloth.

He dragged his mouth free of hers. “Holy Christ! Holy Mother of God…”

Her pulse sang in time to his oaths. Dear Lord, what a feeling! What on earth had he done to her? Whatever it was, he must have felt the same, for he clutched her tightly against him, burying his face in her neck, breathing hard into her hair as he shook against her. It took a moment for the clamor in her loins to subside, and another for his body to slump, as if drained of substance.

Then he murmured, “That was…a damned sight better than…academic.”

“Yes,” she said, half laughing. “Yes, it was.”

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They panted together, like pipers finishing a reel. The steady drumbeat of rain on the window and the hiss and pop of the lantern were the only sounds beyond their heavy breathing. Slowly the chill of the unheated room seeped into her limbs.

Yet she hated to leave his knee. She bent her head to his. “So this is why Oonagh says she’d ‘part with life for joys like this.’ ”

“Joys like this are rare, princess.” He nuzzled her cheek, her ear, her hair. “Beyond rare. And thus all the more to be treasured.”

His words gave her hope. Until now she hadn’t dared to think past this moment, sure that his desire for her wouldn’t outweigh his desire for vengeance against her father. But what if it could? What if he was willing to put his revenge aside for
this,
for passion…for marriage? She was well past twenty-one—she could marry whom she pleased. And if they did it before Papa reachedScotland , he wouldn’t be able to prevent it. She also had a fortune, which might swayLachlan if his quarrel with Papa was just about the money.

Sadly, it wasn’t. Her heart sank. The feud between them went beyond that—asLachlan ’s wounds amply demonstrated.

She clutched him to her fiercely. No, there had to be a way. Perhaps she could make up for the rash acts of Papa’s men. Perhaps if she offered him her help and her fortune, he might listen. Perhaps if she offered him her body…

She drew back to stare at him, taking hope from his tender smile. “One should enjoy rare pleasures as often as possible, wouldn’t you say?” Running her hands up his strong arms, she gave him what she hoped was a seductive glance. “The night is young and—”

“Och, no, lassie.” His smile faded. “Rare pleasures are meant to be rare.”

Her mouth went dry. “They don’t have to be.”

“Aye, they do.” Eyes solemn as an eagle’s gazed darkly at her as he wiped her hand clean on his towel.

“You have to go back to bed now. Alone. Before I’m tempted to do the part of the ballad that we skipped.”

She slung her arms about his neck. “And what part is that?”

His gaze flicked to her naked breasts, and he sucked in a harsh breath. “You know what part. Where Darby enters Oonagh and they jointly ‘oil her lock’ with ‘showers of bliss.’ That part.”

“That sounds intriguing,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss his mouth. He stopped her before she could. “No. I will not ruin you.”

An admirable sentiment before, but surely not now. “Would it be so awful if you did?”

“Aye. I’d have to marry you then, and I cannot.”

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I cannot.
Nothing like the bald truth to ruin a good seduction. But she wouldn’t let him throw this away so easily. “Why not?” she whispered, trying not to let his words wound her.

Dropping his gaze, he concentrated on pulling her chemise back up to cover her breasts. “Even if yer father would allow it,” he said, “and even if he and I can settle this matter between us, you wouldn’t be happy at Rosscraig.”

“How do you know?”

His cold glance struck her to the heart. “Because ye’re too fine a lady for that sort of life.”

Odd how he could turn what should be a compliment into an insult. Her breath burned her throat as she rose, trying to gather the shreds of her pride about her. She noticed he made no move to stop her.

“Too fine a lady?” Her fingers shook violently as she tied her chemise. “Surely I have just amply demonstrated that I’m not remotely a fine lady.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, lass.” He stood and the towel fell away, but she got the merest glimpse of him naked before he turned his back on her and scooped up his drawers. “Even the finest ladies have desires. But it doesn’t change what they’re born to. And once the heat of desire cools, they have to live in real houses and endure real hardships. Desire doesn’t make up for that.”

Not for a woman like you.
He didn’t have to say the words. She watched despairingly as his lovely behind disappeared beneath the stockinette. He meant for this to be the only time they were intimate, didn’t he? He’d allowed it because she’d pressed him, but he would never take it further.

“Let me see if I understand you. The fact that I desire you doesn’t matter. Nor the fact that I enjoy your company—”

“Enjoy my company?” With a bitter laugh, he faced her. “You’ve spent the past two days calling me a vulgar scoundrel. None of that has changed.”

“Everything has changed,” she whispered. “You know it has.”

“I know nothing of the kind.” He set his chin the way he set his shoulders, with a warrior’s belligerence.

“You felt sorry for me, felt responsible for the wounds yer father’s men inflicted. And we got…carried away. But that doesn’t mean we could make a life together. You know better.”

She only knew that his hatred of her father ran deeper than she’d dreamed, that it stretched even to her. He was perfectly happy to play with her “in the moment,” but marrying Duncannon’s daughter would never be acceptable.

Until now she’d never been ashamed of who Papa was, who
she
was. And the fact that he could make her ashamed angered her. “You despise my father that much, do you?”

“It has naught to do with him.” But he wouldn’t meet her gaze, turning instead to scoop up his clothes.
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“Really? And if I weren’t his daughter, you’d still spurn me?”

“Spurn you!” He whirled on her. “You’ll be the one to spurn me when yer father comes after you, and I’m forced to—”

When he broke off with a curse, her heart plummeted. “Forced to what?”

He didn’t reply, just strode into the hall to deposit his clothes for Sally to wash, then reentered and slammed the door before grabbing a pillow from the bed.

“Answer me,Lachlan .” Foreboding clutching at her chest, she followed him to where he tossed the pillow to the floor. “I asked you before what you’d do if Papa didn’t give you the money, and you evaded the question. I’m asking again, and this time I want the truth. What do you mean to do?”

“Stay out of it,” he growled. “It has naught to do with you.”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be here. Tell me what you mean to do. I’ll give you no peace until you tell me.”

“Fine!” He faced her, eyes ablaze. “You saw what yer father’s men did to me just for robbing McKinley. And now I’ve gone and kidnapped his daughter. If he comes here without the money, it’ll be because he wants my head. It’ll be him or me, don’t you see? It must end one way or another, and it’s damned sure not going to be because I let him get away with treachery.”