The Master Of Strathburn (24 page)

‘Quietly living in the depths o’ the Yorkshire countryside I believe, with my aunt’s family,’ replied Jessie. ‘No doubt they are all pining for a taste of London society by now. I know my aunt—her father is an earl—had high hopes tha’ my cousins would make well-placed marriages. She will be bitterly disappointed at their downturn in circumstances. It is a shame for all concerned.’

Robert took a sip of his claret, studying her over the rim of his glass for a moment. ‘It might be indelicate of me to say so, but I imagine that your family’s loss also affected your plans for the future, Jessie. Someone as lovely as you must have had a suitor or two at the very least …’

‘One or two,’ she smiled, taking a sip of her own wine, willing herself not to blush. ‘And yes, it is indelicate o’ you to discuss such things, Robert Grant. I dinna intend to ask you about yer past dalliances. And I’m sure you would have had quite a few more than one or two.’

Robert’s wide mouth tipped into a smile and he raised his glass to her. ‘
Touché
.’ He suddenly reached forward and clasped her hand. ‘I want you to know, that I care not a whit about your family’s fall in fortune. Or that your tocher probably went toward clearing your uncle’s debts. You are all that matters, Jessie. Only you. I want you to remember that.’

Jessie shivered, yet her face felt hot. She didn’t know what to say. Robert’s perceptiveness and his kindness surprised her yet again. She took a large sip of her wine, trying to hide her discomposure.

They were just sharing the last of the claret when there came another knock at the door.

Robert rose from the table. ‘I suspect it is the serving girls with our bathing water.’

Sure enough, Mary and Elspeth entered and deposited a large pitcher of steaming water, a bundle of towels, and soap on the washstand, before discreetly quitting the room. As soon as the door shut, panic began to dance a wild reel inside Jessie’s belly. There was no screen to speak of in the room, and there was no way on earth she was going to bathe in front of Robert.

As if sensing her disquiet, Robert turned to regard her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Don’t look so alarmed,
mo ghaoil
. I will go to the taproom for half an hour, so you may have some privacy … unless you feel you need my help of course …’ Wicked amusement gleamed in his eyes. ‘I’m very good at loosening stays as you well know … and washing backs.’

Such impudence could not go unpunished. ‘So much for your vow to keep yer hands to yerself, Robert Grant,’ she chided with a mock scowl, then lobbed the remnants of her pear core at him.

He dodged away easily, laughing. ‘Well, I suppose I have my answer then. Enjoy your bath,
mo nighean ruadh.
’ With a wink and another annoyingly rakish smile, he departed, locking the door behind him.

Jessie heaved an exasperated sigh and tossed back the last of her claret. Robert Grant was a Jacobite rogue and gentleman all rolled into one. He was, quite frankly, irresistible.

Damn him.

And damn her errant lust.

It was surely going to get her into trouble.
Someone was definitely going to have to sleep on the floor.

* * *

When Robert eventually returned to the room, more than a half hour later, it was to find Jessie sound asleep, her wildly curling red-gold hair tangled across the white pillows, the quilt tucked up around her chin. Her cheeks were flushed with sleep and her breath sighed gently between her slightly parted lips.
So beautiful
. He puffed out his own heavy sigh, resisting the urge to stroke a lock of hair away from her cheek. She was clearly exhausted, poor lass. He should leave her be.

A quick glance around the room revealed that she’d placed several blankets and a pillow by the fire. His mouth kicked into a grin. She was also a wise lass.

His amusement quickly died when he also spied Jessie’s green travelling gown, stays and stockings draped neatly over one of the chairs. That meant, that beneath the covers, Jessie only wore her linen shift. And he knew exactly how she looked in only a shift.

His cock twitched at the vivid memory. Damn. He was going to have to suffer more than a hard floor. He prayed exhaustion would win out, otherwise he’d probably get no sleep at all.

With another heavy sigh of resignation, he shrugged off his coat then took a seat by the fire and tugged off a boot. Clumsy with fatigue, he dropped it.
Bloody hell
. The sound of leather hitting the wooden floor was loud in the silence. His eyes flew to Jessie. Had he woken her? She murmured and turned over in her sleep, the quilt slipping. And he swore again as he caught a breathtaking glimpse of bare shoulder and the gentle swell of her breasts.

His cock swelled to full attention.

There was only one thing for it. He was going to have to scrub away his ardour; there was probably warm water left in the pitcher—enough to bathe and do what he needed to do.

But he didn’t want to disturb Jessie or shock her again, if she should awaken to find him half-naked or even worse, slaking his lust. He silently approached the bed and drew the heavy damask curtains across the end.

* * *

Drifting on the edge of a dream, Jessie stirred from sleep. Water splashed and she fancied herself by the shore of the Cromarty Firth, at home, at Dunraven. Sighing, wanting to recapture the dream, she rolled over—and a sudden stab of pain in her arm, brought her crashing back to reality.

She wasn’t home. She wasn’t even at Lochrose.

She was in Invercauld. With Robert.

But where was he? Had he come back yet?

She pushed herself up, pushing a tangled wave of hair out of her eyes. The room was still suffused with the warm glow of fire and candlelight but strangely, the curtains had been drawn across the end of the four-poster bed. She frowned, nerves prickling with anxious curiosity. She hadn’t done that.

All senses on alert, she sat up straighter. In a narrow gap between the swathes of dark blue fabric, she sensed a movement. And then bit back a gasp when she caught an unexpected glimpse of Robert, his upper torso naked, his breeches slung low around his lean hips. He was by the washstand, his back to her. He must be bathing.

She should close her eyes, at the very least avert her gaze, but she could not.

She was transfixed.

Surely he wouldn’t mind if she peeked, not after his shirtless parade before her yesterday.

Through the opening she could just see a section of Robert’s back and lean waist, the firelight limning smooth flesh and sleek muscle with a golden glow. She unconsciously licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart pounding. He was magnificent. A dark-haired Apollo. Her fingers itched to touch him, explore him.

Then he turned slightly and she saw him,
all of him
. And her breath caught in her chest.
He wasn’t washing himself.

His hand was curled around his manhood, stroking the shaft—his rock hard, impossibly long shaft. Then he squeezed the ruddy head, groaning softly, biting his lip as if in pain.

What in heaven’s name was he doing?

The answer hit her like a bolt of lightning.
He’s pleasuring himself, you ninnyhammer
.
Remember Maggie told you … it’s what men do.

This time, she couldn’t stifle her gasp.

Robert immediately turned his head toward the bed. ‘Jessie?’ he called.

Jessie was speechless, gawping. He would know that she had been watching him. Her cheeks flaming, she squeezed her eyes shut as Robert drew the curtains back. She couldn’t look at him.

‘Jessie, I’m sorry if I startled you, lass.’ There was the sound of something rustling. ‘You can look now.’

She cautiously opened one eye and then the other to find Robert standing at the end of the bed, his buckskin breeches re-buttoned and in place.
Thank the Lord
. Although acute embarrassment still twisted uncomfortably inside her, she couldn’t stop herself from running her gaze over his beautiful body—his heavy pectorals with their light dusting of dark hair, the hard ridges of his stomach and then even lower to the suspicious bulge beneath the placket of his breeches.

She caught her lip between her teeth. She now knew what was in there. Apprehension and desire in equal measure, curled her toes.

Wicked, wicked, Jessie.

‘Are you all right?’ Robert asked. She doubted that it was only concern that gave his voice a husky edge.

She swallowed and shook her head as if shaking herself awake, before dragging her gaze back to his face. ‘I … I woke an’ I could see yer … back through the curtains … an’ you were …’ She couldn’t say what she had really seen. She bit her lip again.

Robert cocked an eyebrow, a glint of amusement lurking in his eyes. ‘Half-naked and washing?’ he suggested.

‘Yes,’ she huffed, prickly with indignation now. She hated it when he was amused at her expense. ‘And you still are half … you know …’

Robert’s smile grew broader. ‘Half-naked. Like you.’

Jessie glanced down at herself and squealed. Her linen shift had slipped to an alarmingly low level, revealing far too much of her breasts. Blushing furiously again, she belatedly hauled the bedcovers up to her chin. ‘You should have said something sooner,’ she accused.

Robert winced a little, his expression approaching contrite. ‘Yes, I should have. I shouldn’t tease you. And I apologise for waking you. And if I somehow startled or offended you for any other reason, I offer you an apology for that as well. We men are very basic creatures sometimes. And … well I assure you, it won’t happen again.’

So Robert did suspect that she’d caught him out. Jessie willed herself not to blush again. But Robert’s apology dispelled some of the tension crackling between them. She let out a shaky sigh, and at last had the courage to fully meet his gaze. ‘Thank you, Robert. Your apology is accepted.’

‘Well,’ Robert rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I suppose it’s time for bed.’

Jessie grimaced. ‘About that …’

Robert gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry. If you can spare another pillow, I’m quite happy to sleep on the floor. It was always my intention.’

Guilt twisted in Jessie’s belly. She suddenly felt quite mean, and she didn’t like it. ‘Here you are then,’ she said needlessly, pulling one of the pillows from behind her and thrusting it toward him when he approached her side of the bed. ‘Are you sure this is all you need?’

‘Quite sure.’ As his fingers innocently brushed against hers, her breathing faltered. Even that brief contact set her skin aflame, made her pulse race all over again. This yearning ache inside her was almost too much to bear.

A pillow might be all Robert needed, but she definitely needed something more, something she’d promised herself she wouldn’t have.

The question was, would Robert give it to her?

* * *

Robert hovered by Jessie’s side of the bed, pillow in hand, in a definite quandary—kiss his fiancée goodnight or beat a hasty retreat to the fireside.

He truly regretted that Jessie had caught him
in flagrante
; he wasn’t sure how much she’d actually seen, but judging by her reaction, it was enough to shock her. She might have accepted his apology, but there was still a strange awkwardness between them. Indeed, the very air around them seemed to vibrate with it.

Perhaps a brief goodnight kiss would help to alleviate the tension.

After all, they were hand-fasted.

He glanced down at Jessie; she’d begun to worry her bottom lip with her teeth again. The urge to soothe her poor abused mouth with his own was strong, but he wouldn’t. He would keep the kiss light and amicable. And away from her delectable lips.

‘Well,
mo chridhe
,’ he murmured, catching her gaze. ‘I’ll bid you goodnight then.’ Leaning down, he aimed for Jessie’s cheek. But then somehow, it all went wrong. In the moment before he kissed her, Jessie turned her head and his lips found her mouth instead—her soft, lush-as-a-ripe peach mouth; her lips moved imperceptibly against his. Had she done that deliberately? Stunned, he broke the contact and sought her gaze again.

There was no censure or trepidation in the golden-brown depths. Indeed, Jessie’s eyes looked almost drowsy with longing; her lids were heavy, her pupils dilated. She had told him earlier that she enjoyed his kisses. Would she welcome another?

God forgive him, he definitely wanted another.

He cleared his throat. ‘Jessie, what happened just now—’

‘It’s all my doing, Robert,’ she said in a breathless rush. ‘I wanted you to kiss me … I just didna know how to tell you.’

Christ.
She really meant it. Despite catching him in the midst of a crude act, despite all of his provocative quips, she still wanted him. It was more than he deserved.

Robert dropped the pillow and sat down on the edge of the bed. She did not draw away. If anything she leaned closer, her gaze focused on his mouth.

One more kiss, that’s all he needed. One more kiss and he would be sated. What harm could it do when they were practically wed?

He swallowed past a throat suddenly tight with longing. ‘Jessie, may I kiss you again?’

The tip of her pink tongue darted out, moistening her lips. ‘Aye,’ she whispered, her eyes dark as molten honey. ‘I thought you would never ask.’

* * *

At long last, the moment she’d been waiting for all afternoon and the best part of the evening had arrived.

Jessie held her breath as Robert slid one of his hands into the tangle of curls at her nape, then oh, so slowly bent his head to claim her. His mouth slanted over hers, hungry, yet gentle. His lips satiny smooth yet firm. Delicious. Intoxicating.

Exhilarating.

She pushed herself against Robert’s naked chest and the potent scent of him—warm, clean, aroused male—wrapped around her. Flooded her senses. Her head spun as she breathed him in. She slid her hands over his hot, naked skin and his powerful muscles flexed and rippled beneath her touch … she couldn’t touch him enough. Couldn’t taste him enough.

Robert was holding back, taking too much care with her. And she didn’t want him to. She wanted passion and blinding heat, all the sensations he’d aroused when he’d kissed her the night before. Boldly, instinctively, she slid her tongue between the seam of his lips. With a deep throaty growl that sent a deep thrill right down to her toes, he returned the thrust, his tongue stroking and tasting her in return.