Stranded With The Scottish Earl (11 page)

In the middle of the mattress sat a single white satin slipper. A delicate shoe useless for anything but dancing at a ball. Satin ribbons curled across the
counterpane toward a sheet of paper with two words upon it.

From Cinderella.

Charlotte had hoped for an enthusiastic response to her brazen invitation, yet when her door crashed open, she gave a skittish start.

“Do you mean it?” Ewan demanded, brandishing her dancing slipper like a trophy.

“You understood,” she said shakily, rising from the chair beside the fire where she’d waited in a lather of apprehension.

“Of course I bloody understood.” His powerful chest rose and fell beneath the elegant blue coat, rather the worse for wear.

“You ran here,” she said in wonder.

“Of course I damn well ran,” he snapped, striding into her bedroom as if he owned it. No man except her father had ever set foot in this
chamber. Thoughts of the night ahead sizzled through her. Closer to excitement than fear. Although fear was there, too.

She’d known he wanted her, but only now, staring across this firelit room, did she at last begin to grasp what Ewan Macrae’s desire truly
meant. He looked so wild and desperate, as if his life depended on what happened next. When she’d sneaked into his room, she’d been nervous,
but his turbulent reaction banished doubt.

“For pity’s sake, Charlotte, answer me.” That deep, confident voice actually shook. “Do you want me to stay?”

Her heart racing, she raised her chin. “Yes.”

He sucked in a deep breath and without shifting his attention from her, closed the door behind him with a sharp click. A symbolic act to express his
intentions. After all, they were alone in the house. “Thank God.”

Still with that unwavering gaze, he shrugged his coat off, then—breathtaking moment—he drew the fine white shirt over his head. He flung both
garments into the corner, statement enough that his mind was fixed on having her. He was by nature a careful man.

She started to tremble in earnest, and despite her decision to take this man into her bed, she twined her hands together at her waist in a fidgety dance.
The force of her emotions threatened to shatter her. Anticipation. Uncertainty.
Love.

Oh, yes, definitely love.

His beautiful hands dropped to the waistband of his breeches. She couldn’t look away. He gave a soft laugh. “No, perhaps not yet.”

“I…I heard you at my door last night,” she said in a croaky voice. How was it possible to be so sure, yet so afraid at the same time?

He was quick on the uptake. That was something she’d relied upon when she’d left her slipper. “Did you indeed?”

She licked lips dry as the Sahara. “Why didn’t you come in?”

He cocked a black eyebrow at her. “Did you want me to?”

Yes. No.
“I don’t know.”

Wry amusement curled his lips. “That’s why I didn’t come in.”

“You’re here now,” she said intrepidly, standing up and pushing back her shoulders, as though daring an enemy instead of inviting a
lover.

“Aye, I am at that,” he murmured. “Come to me.”

Stupid to haggle over dominance when they both knew she’d surrendered. “No, come to me.”

“That’s my braw lassie.” His smile expressed unfettered admiration. “You know, it would be easy enough to meet in the
middle.”

This was why she loved him. She ventured an unsteady step, then without a conscious decision, she threw herself forward at a run.

Only to land in his embrace. He’d come halfway.

His arms closed hard around her, warm, familiar, powerful. She tipped her face up for his kiss. How she wanted him.

His mouth was hard, too. He ruthlessly claimed her as his, and she stopped pretending she had any argument with that. Instead, she parted her lips for the
hot invasion of his tongue, and her hands ran over him, discovering the intriguing secrets of his body. The hard pads of muscle. The smooth golden skin.
The silky hair scattered across his chest.

Ewan gathered her closer, and his kiss intensified. Lightning streaked through her, left her restless, hungry, desperate. She’d never felt like this
before, even when he’d kissed her last night. He raised his head to stare down at her with blazing eyes, and her breath escaped on a sob.

“You’ll marry me,” he said in a rough voice. If they hadn’t just kissed as if the world ended, she’d think he was angry.

She tipped her chin up and spoke defiantly. “Yes.”

Charlotte waited for him to say he was pleased, but he still looked as if he poised on the edge of a cliff. A cliff with hungry crocodiles snapping below.

“Soon?” he growled.

“Tomorrow if I could.”

“Good.”

He grabbed her old-fashioned round gown at the hips and crushed the material in his hands. “I want you naked,” he said, voice edged.

She loved his fierceness. It stemmed from need. She wanted him to need her. When she laid her hand on his heaving chest, he was as hot as a furnace. At her
touch, he bit back a groan.

Today she’d been impressed with his urbanity under trying circumstances. This lack of control now told her more than anything else could that if she
yielded to this passion, he yielded, too. They were equals in desire.

“This dress lifts right off,” she said. It was why she’d worn it. She saw his eyes flare sapphire, then a cloud of cotton blinded her as
he whisked the gown over her head.

Under the dress, she was naked. She straightened and stood before him, offering him everything she was. It was frightening to leave herself so
open—trust was never easy for her. But as she read the wonder in his expression, she recognized that this time, her allegiance wasn’t
misplaced.

“You’re so beautiful.” The awe in his voice brushed across her bare skin like a warm breeze. Emotion thickened his accent. He no longer
sounded as if he meant to devour her in two snaps of those straight white teeth.

With a gentleness that made her tremble, he drew her against him until her breasts met his bare chest. Instinctively she moved closer to all that heat and
power, making him groan again.

The universe was hot and dark, and brimming with sensual discovery. He held her face in the curve of his shoulder. With sight denied, other senses
sharpened. She stood in his arms, as their breath eased into the same rhythm. His musky scent was the air she breathed, and his heart pounded like hammer
blows against her. She was overwhelmingly conscious of his potent masculinity.

The communication was too profound for speech. Soon he’d join her in the bed she’d never shared with another person. He’d invade her
body, and she’d be a virgin no more. But this serene interval marked the beginning of their true union.

After a universe of time, he began to touch her, hands skimming across her naked skin in glancing exploration. Her heart kicked into a gallop, and she
arched closer.

He smoothed her wild mane of hair until she felt like purring. Then his hands slid greedily over shoulders and back and flanks. He dipped to shape the
curve of her hips and the swell of her buttocks. Her skin came alive under his exploration. His touch made her head swim, turned her legs weak. The wonder
left her clinging to his shoulders.

So close to him, she knew he trembled, too, with long, quaking shivers that combed through him like waves crashing toward the shore. She turned her head
and kissed his warm, male flesh. His taste flooded her senses. His busy hands stilled, and she heard his breath catch.

She shook her hair back from her face and stared up at him. This sensual man tugged so powerfully at her desire. His expression was intent, and his lips
were full and dark. His eyelids were heavy. He looked like he was lost in a drugged paradise.

“I don’t know how to please you,” she whispered.

For the first time since he’d burst into her room, tenderness softened his smile. Her blood melted to syrup as those strong hands rose to cradle her
head.

“You don’t have to do anything,
mo chridhe
. Your mere presence pleases me more than I can say.” He paused, then spoke with more
emphasis, in case she misunderstood. “
You
please me.”

The mad swoop of her heart left her dizzy. He kissed her again, and she sank into sweetness. When he lowered her to the bed, the sheets were cool under her
back.

Ewan stood beside the bed, staring at her. She bit back a whimper and shifted. Lying before him, naked and vulnerable, aroused a needy, heavy feeling in
the pit of her stomach. A deep pulse pounded between her legs. She shifted again, but the brush of bedding on her skin only heightened the barrage of
sensations.

In a leisurely inspection, his gaze drifted down her body, lingering on her breasts, the feathery, dark gold curls that covered her mound, her legs.
Although his hands remained loose at his sides, she felt like he touched her.

When she’d decided to give herself to Ewan, she’d resolved to be bold. What point hesitating, when she’d chosen so decisively to fall?

But his detailed scrutiny of her body, a body she’d never revealed to a man, tested her courage. She bore it as long as she could, before she placed
a shaking hand over her sex.

“You’re glorious, Charlotte.” That sweet smile still hovered around his lips. “There’s no need to be shy.”

Her cheeks were hot, and that throbbing, insistent demand between her thighs threatened to send her insane. Shamefully, the touch of her hand made her
imagine Ewan stroking her.

“I’ve never done this before,” she stammered, struggling to revive the audacious girl who had invited him to come to her.

But that girl hadn’t been spread out on a bed like a sacrifice. Charlotte sucked in a shaky breath and noticed how his eyes fixed on the rise of her
breasts. Her nipples pearled in longing, and heat flooded her.

“I know how privileged I am.”

“Then why are you so far away?” she asked, almost on a wail.

Self-deprecation tinged his smile. “Because I want you too much,
mo leannan.
”

He sounded more Scots than ever. She’d noticed that his brogue thickened when his emotions were engaged. He curled one hand around the bedpost,
knuckles turning white as he strove for control. His breath was unsteady, and a muscle jerked in one lean cheek.

“Can…can you want me too much?”

“I want to give you pleasure.”

She swallowed as heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m sure wanting…me is no barrier to that.”

“I fear losing my head.” He paused, then spoke more roughly. “I fear frightening you.”

“I want you so much, it hurts,” she admitted.

“Oh, my love,” he said, stepping forward. “You shouldn’t say such things. They make me forget I’m a gentleman.”

At last she found the confidence to smile. “You’re a man as well as a gentleman, Ewan.” Mustering all her nerve, she raised her hand and
extended it toward him.

Desire flared in his eyes. A few deft movements and he stood naked before her. All the moisture dried from Charlotte’s mouth, and she swallowed to
ease the tightness in her throat. She regarded him with curiosity and awe. And trepidation. How on earth would that fit inside her?

“Oh.” The sound emerged as a squeak. Her muscles tightened, the heat between her legs turned liquid. She squirmed and clenched her hands in the
sheets.

For the first time tonight, he laughed. “I’ve never seen you stuck for words before, lassie.”

The gentle teasing shattered her paralysis. She pushed up against the pillows, unable to take her eyes off him. “You steal my breath away. I
don’t want to wait any longer.”

His face expressed elation, and excitement. And something that she thought might be love, although he’d never said the words.

A thrill rippled through her, and a deep certainty that they were meant to come together like this. A great wave of love washed away her quibbling.

He leaned one knee on the bed. “I want you so much.”

“I want you, too,” she said in a broken voice.

“Charlotte…” Ewan seized her in his arms, dragging her up for a ferocious, explosive kiss that turned the world to fire.

Lyle reveled in Charlotte’s eager response. When he first saw her naked body, she’d seemed too perfect to be real. Creamy skin. Tumbling hair.
High breasts tipped with rose. A symphony of curves. Hips, waist, tender stomach. Long, graceful legs—he’d always suspected his sweet
Cinderella might have lovely legs. But the woman in his arms now was all alluring human warmth.

His hands conducted a feverish exploration, up, down, across, above, below. Loving the catch in her breath at every caress, the broken moan when at last he
cupped those magnificent breasts. He took one beaded peak between his lips, feeling her start of surprise.

“Oh, Ewan,” she sighed, when he drew on the sensitive nipple. Her hands tangled in his hair, bringing him closer.

He turned his attention to her other breast. She offered a banquet of endless pleasure. He felt torn between the urge to possess and the urge to cherish.
She was a virgin and deserved his care. She stirred his passion as no woman ever had, and her ardent welcome stoked the fire inside him.

When her breath emerged in irregular gasps, he trailed his hand down that soft feminine belly to the dark gold curls between her thighs. He placed his palm
over her mound, and she tilted her hips toward him.

He rose over her, resting on one elbow. There would be another more powerful claiming later, but he wanted to give her a taste of pleasure first.

With slow concentration, he stroked that silky hair, glistening with arousal. She made a soft sound of enjoyment deep in her throat, and her thighs
relaxed.

He kissed her softly, reverently. His tongue traced the seam of her lips as he discovered her satiny folds. She was hot and wet, and when his thumb brushed
her center, she gave another of those delicious murmurs. He began to build her response, and was gratified when her shining amber eyes turned startled,
then cloudy.

“Oh, Ewan,” she said again. “That’s…that’s wicked.”