The Great Scot (25 page)

Obviously dreaming. Or hallucinating.

He'd shrugged off the attentions of twelve gorgeous women to come hide out in her room, to seek her out, to tell her he wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her better…and she was turning him down?

Totally hallucinating.

“But I won't be staying,” she whispered. Giving voice to the cold, harsh reality of truth.

“I plotted and planned my whole life to get out of here, go to the city. I was convinced that was where I belonged and I manipulated everything around me, to make sure that plan stayed intact. I refused to see what was plainly obvious, stubborn to the end. Then life changed. And I came back here, still unsure if it was where I wanted to be, but I knew it was where I had to be, where I was supposed to be. Now my life is controlled by my ancestry, by my obligation to others. I've gone from over-controlling my life, to having life control me.” He lifted their still joined hands and brushed a kiss along the back of her knuckles. “For once, I'd like life to just take care of itself. No planning, no plotting, no analyzing, no worrying about tomorrow. Just let it take its own course.”

He made it sound so easy. “I don't have that luxury. I already know my course.”

“You'll be here, in Glenbuie, for a while longer. Why not allow yourself to let go of the worry, the fear of what might be? It could end sadly, could end badly, but at least we'd have had the time we did have. Do ye plan to live the rest of your life sealed up tight, so ye don't risk disappointment or heartache?”

“I don't live my life sealed up.”

“Don't ye now? If ye dinna let anyone have a say in things, then ye don't have to worry about them letting you down when you've come to depend on them, now do ye?” He pulled her closer, until their bodies touched, once again pressing her hands to his chest. “Ye started yer life with the one person who was supposed to be there for you, no matter what, leavin'ye on a doorstep for strangers to find. But perhaps, just perhaps, you were left with the hopes of finding something better than ye'd have had if she'd kept you. Meaning, sometimes ye have to risk the worst, to get the best. And even a chance at the best, is worth the risk, don't ye think? One thing you're not, Erin, is a coward.”

“You don't know that,” she said, badly shaken by his words, far more than she could let on, or even wanted to acknowledge. “You don't know me.”

“Then let me.”

“Dylan—”

“Come here,” he murmured, tugging her close, bending his head to hers. When his lips were brushing hers, he whispered, “You're no' the only one takin' risks here, ye know.”

She hadn't wanted to think about that, about his past, about how long he'd been holed up, hiding out from the world. No, he wasn't quite the tragic, grieving hero she'd made him out to be, but he hadn't allowed himself to feel anything for anyone in quite some time either. “Maybe this is just a sign you're ready to rejoin the world,” she said, shakily.

“I told myself the same thing.”

It surprised her, how much she didn't want him to agree with her. God, she was a perverse creature. “And?”

“And I was just assaulted by a bevy of beautiful women who will no doubt turn every man's head in Glenbuie. Propositioned by a few as well.” His lips curled. “You were right about not all of them being here to find true love.”

“Did it make you curious?”

“If you mean, curious as to how your poor sod of a Prince will sort through that mess, then yes. Curious as to what it would be like to have them all chasing me for a few fortnights? No.” He caught her face in his hands. “If I wanted that kind of attention, I'd be talkin' to your boss right now. Instead, I'm up here, hidin' out in your room. Because while they were pawing at me, all I kept thinking was that I already missed you.”

Her breath caught, and her heart slipped even further from her control.
Danger, danger
. “Dylan—”

“I don't proclaim to understand why the heart or mind works the way it does, Erin. You say maybe I'm ready to rejoin the world. I say, maybe I'm just a man who knows what he wants when he sees it. It doesnae make me want to go search the world over. You haven't sparked a hunger in me to go on the prowl.” He dipped his head, brushed his lips across hers. “Ye've just sparked a hunger in me for you. Just you.”

When he took her mouth this time, she had no defenses left.

“Ye taste good, Miss Erin MacGregor,” he murmured against her mouth. “And I didnae get my full of you last night. Aye, I'm a greedy bastard, indeed, because I want more. Much, much more.”

She wanted to tell him he could have it all, but some shred of self preservation remained and wouldn't let her put it to words. So she showed him instead, returning his kiss with everything she was feeling, even if she hadn't exactly sorted that out for herself just yet.

His hold tightened for a moment when she responded to him so ardently, then he completely let go, taking her mouth hungrily, almost savagely. If last night had been all about animal lust, this moment between them was all about staking a claim. And maybe, just maybe, she was finally staking one of her own.

S
low down, slow down
, Dylan schooled himself. He'd gone too fast their first time, he'd be damned if he was going to bulldoze his way through this once again. Despite her willing capitulation, he was well aware she still had reservations. Her instincts to protect herself were every bit as strong as his own. And it wasn't that he had no fear in this situation, he had plenty, but for the first time, he was acting on an instinct that was driven purely by his own desires…and not what he'd already determined was right for him.

With Maribel, he'd been as driven by possessing who she was, what she would provide for him, as he was by the woman herself. Aye, he'd been but a lad at the time, and she'd surely captivated him on first sight. But he'd long since convinced himself of what it was he wanted, and when she stepped into that campus cafeteria, he'd taken one look at her and put her squarely in that pre-determined slot he'd created just for a woman like her.

This was different. So completely different. He wasn't looking for anyone or anything, and wouldn't know where to begin if he had. His focus in life was entirely elsewhere, and if he'd been asked to describe who he thought might best suit him on this new path he'd undertaken, nowhere on an endless list would he have ever described someone like Erin. It simply wouldn't have occurred to him.

Which was why he knew he had to pursue this. Because maybe you weren't supposed to know until you just
knew
. Last time, all that endless plotting and planning intended to insure his everlasting happiness had only succeeded in getting him long-term discontent. For the first time, his heart was leading the way, no' his head, nor logic, or some kind of other determination of who would be most suitable for him when matched with his current goals.

Of course, there was no guarantee that this wasn't simply an all-new recipe for disaster. She wasn't from here, her life was an ocean away. Hell, she wasn't even sure she wanted him long term. Not, perhaps, in the way he knew he wanted her. They could be horrible for each other. Or they could be the best thing that ever happened. He didn't know, couldn't know. But he wanted to find out. With a determination that was made far less terrifying by the fact that he hadn't felt this alive in a very, very long time.

She was clutching at his shoulders, driving her tongue into his mouth even as he claimed hers for his own. He felt this fierce, almost overwhelming sense of protectiveness, not just of her, but of this fragile new beginning they were creating. He wanted to feed and nourish it, and do nothing that would jeopardize its fledgling roots. And alongside that need grew a fear that no matter what he did, or how well or thoroughly he did it, he might still fail to bring a relationship with her to fruition. Because he wasn't the only one who had a say in it.

He scooped her up against him, their mouths still fused, tongues dueling, chests rising and falling, as he blindly turned them toward her bathroom. He kicked the door open, rousing Erin enough to break their kiss long enough to blink and look around. “There's a bed. Where are you—?”

“You said you had to shower and get back downstairs,” Dylan said, pinning her against the wall next to the shower and tracing kisses along the side of her neck as he leaned down to pull the water faucets on and crank them toward hot. He pressed more tightly between her thighs as the room slowly filled with steam and smiled as he framed her face again. “I'm showing you how compatible I can be with your lifestyle.”

She arched one eyebrow and looked poised to make a quick retort, but he took her mouth again and all she managed was a long, soft moan as they once again gave themselves over to the demands of their untamable need for one another. He wanted more from her than that, but it was a start. And a damn fine one, he thought, as he tugged her shirt over her head, and yanked his off shortly thereafter. They both shimmied their pants off and he stepped into the shower first, holding out his hand for her to step over the high side of the deep, narrow tub.

“I have no business doing this,” she said, even as she took his hand and stepped in next to him.

He blocked the spray with his body until she had a chance to acclimate to the hot steam. “You have every right in the world to a shower before putting in another fourteen-hour day.” He took her shoulders and turned her away from him. “You're simply lucky enough to have someone willing to scrub your back. Don't complain.”

Whatever she'd been about to say was lost in a long groan of deep satisfaction when he poured a puddle of her scented body wash in his palms and proceeded to lather her up.

“My god, that feels incredibly good.”

“Exactly.” He massaged her shoulders and ran his thumbs along her spine as she braced her weight on the back wall. Her muscles were tight, the likely result of sleeping on a pile of rocks the night before. He pictured the huge feather bed in her hotel room and wondered what it would take to convince her to let him share it with her tonight.

But all thoughts of sleeping and beds vanished when she arched her back and tossed her head back as he kneaded his way down her spine, thrusting her hips back at him, and…onto him. Now he was groaning as he instinctively moved forward, slipping the rigidly hard length of himself between her thighs as he slipped his sudsy palms around her waist and up over her stomach, before closing them around her breasts and taut nipples. She squirmed back against him, panting, and his hips began working without any permission from him, but he was well beyond controlling it.

He leaned over her back, kissed the side of her neck, as he continued his slippery slide between her wet thighs, continued his soapy teasing of her breasts. Dear god, he would go mad with want of her.

She pushed herself back harder, ground on him a bit, whimpering. “Dylan…”

He knew exactly what she wanted as he wanted it in the very worst way himself. “I—I canno'.”

“Wh—why? Oh,” she gasped as he slipped his hands down over her belly and slid his fingers between her thighs.

“I'm afraid I'm no' prepared.”

She was jerking against his hand and he could feel her coming close to climax. He could well go there himself without ever being inside her. Dear god, she was so honest in her response to him. What man wouldn't crave this? Crave her?

“I—it's okay,” she panted. “Really. I'm…oh…” she gasped again as he slipped one finger slowly inside her.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from exploding when her body squeezed tightly around his finger and she started to move on him, her thighs clamped tightly around the part of him he dearly wished was where his finger was at this very fine, torturous moment.

“Pill,” she finally managed to gasp. “I'm on the—please! Dylan. It's okay—”

He didn't have to be told twice. He slipped out of her, making them both sigh in regret, then quickly stepped back, allowing the brunt of the shower to cascade over his shoulder and down her back as he lifted her hips slightly. She took him all the way with one thrust, crying out, her back arching deeply, her hands slapping against the tiled wall. He wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her hips pinned to his for a long, rapturous moment as he simply reveled in the feeling of her holding on to him so tightly, so perfectly.

When he thought he could keep his legs beneath him, trembling as hard as he was, he slid his hands to her hips, and began to move. Thrusting slowly, deeply, both of them grunting, almost growling, as their pace quickened, bodies slapping together as the water pummeled down on them. He went screaming right to the edge and had to force himself to slow down.
Pacing, lad, pacing
. But the feel of her directly against his skin, with not even the flimsiest of barriers between them was almost too much of a perfect thing. When he thought he had a shred of control, he leaned over her back, holding her tight against him with one arm, as he slid his other hand between her thighs again.

“Oh, oh,” she cried, as he teased her, holding her tight, moving slowly, deeply.

Only when he felt her begin to convulse did he give himself over to it. As she came, he pumped harder, deeper, pulling her hips back so tightly against him it was all he could do to maintain balance.

And as she continued to shudder through aftershocks, he slid his hands back to her hips and reared up, and let himself loose inside of her. Thrusting hard, fast, deep. She pounded her fists on the tiles, pushed back hard against him, on him, but it was that moment, when she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes still filled with need, filled with desire, and, in that moment, needing to connect specifically with him, and not simply giving herself to the moment…that was what sent him finally soaring over the edge.

And even as he was pumping everything he had into her, he vowed that next time, it would be slow, gentle, and she'd know, without a doubt, who was making love to her with every second they were joined.

He wasn't sure whose knees were wobbling the worst when he finally slid from her. They were both gulping in the thick, steamed air, their breathing labored and raspy. He shifted his back to the wall, leaning all his weight against it as he turned her toward him, cradling her against his chest. They said nothing, just let the hot water caress them, as he held her close, his cheek pressed to the top of her head, her face buried in his shoulder, as they slowly reclaimed control.

But this closeness wasn't enough, and the moment he could, he tipped her face up to him and kissed her. This time it was tender, quiet, more a reverent benediction than an impassioned plea. His heart squeezed almost painfully when she responded in kind. He couldn't remember ever feeling such sweet affection, such honest emotion, for anyone.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her, but, for once, he was wise enough to know it wasn't the time. They were too raw, too confused, too riled up. So he kissed her, and held her, until the water started running cool. “I think our ten minutes are up,” he said, smiling when she laughed a little.

“Tommy's probably had a cat and a few litters of kittens by now,” she said, then leaned back and looked up into his eyes. “Poor Tommy.”

Dylan's smile spread. “Aye.” He leaned over and shut off the water, then reached out for several of the hotel towels. She reached for one and he shook his head. He wrapped the towel around her and helped her out of the tub, carelessly wrapping his towel around his hips before joining her. “Let me,” he said, when she started to pat herself dry. He winked at her when she just looked at him. “Full service.” He didn't give her time to argue, though she seemed pretty willing to let him dry her off.

But when he'd wrapped her in the hotel bathrobe and tugged her close for another kiss, she surprised him by whipping his towel off. “My turn,” she said. “Fair's fair.”

“I rather like the way your mind works,” he told her, then snatched the towel back and wrapped it again around his hips. “However, if you've any prayer whatsoever of getting back to work, you'll leave me to it. Otherwise we're going to find out what it would feel like to make love in that big bed of yours out there.”

He saw the emotion immediately leap into her eyes and reveled in it. Aye, so she did want him as he wanted her. Body and soul. His body stirred in response, which, considering the toll taken on it these past twelve hours, was nothing short of miraculous. He shooed her out of the bathroom before he could change his mind. “Off you go. Unless you'd like me to dress you as well.”

She looked over her shoulder as she crossed the room toward the wardrobe. “As I can't go downstairs naked, I'm thinking that's not such a good idea.”

“Now you're getting the drift.” He stayed in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the jamb, both enjoying the steamy air behind him…and the view in front of him. Aye, he was a lucky, lucky man, indeed.

She toweled her hair dry and he found himself grinning at the messy pile of hair that looked about the same wet as dry. He couldn't imagine her looking any other way.

“What about you?” she asked, as she pulled the clean bra and panties from her drawer. She slipped the panties on, then shrugged out of the top half of the robe, leaving it hanging over the belted waist.

“What about me?” he asked, crossing the room and brushing her hands away as he helped her hook her bra in the back.

“Here I'm all clean and fresh. I'm sorry you have to pull on those same clothes again.”

He crossed to her bed and flopped backward, arms crossed behind his head, ankles crossed. “I suppose I'll just have to do without.”

“Your towel! You're getting the bed all wet.”

To which he simply whipped it off. “There.”

“God, what am I to do with you?”

“Have you a few hours? I can give you a detailed list. Or better yet, I can show you.”

“Don't you have anything better to do than lay about my room, a kept man?” she teased, clearly expecting that to get a rise out of him.

He stretched luxuriously and rather enjoyed the way she couldn't stop sneaking peeks at him. “You're the one who took over my home and all but booted me out. I think it's only fair you cater to my well-being in the meantime. Besides, I'm beginning to see your point about the owner not being underfoot during filming.”