Page 38 of Forever My Lass

“As much as I wanted tae, I dinnae give way to temptation yesterday, lass.” The whisper was a soft caress over her senses, and her eyes fluttered shut despite her best efforts to resist the hypnotic sound of his voice. “But ye did say tae make sure I am right before I prove a point, mo bhòidhchead fuilt dorcha, and I need tae ken if ye lips are as sweet-tasting as they look, if only tae prove tae myself that I’m right.”

God, the man could make a dictionary sound sexy as hell, but whatever he was calling her in that Gaelic language of his was enough to make her willing to do just about anything he asked of her. Ready to melt from the heat rushing through her, Madeline dragged in a sharp breath just before his mouth covered hers in a light kiss.

Frozen where she stood, a tremor rocked its way into every inch of her body as his mouth hardened against hers. Strong muscular arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into his sinewy frame. Hands splayed against the steely hardness of his chest, her lips eagerly parted beneath his.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, and it vibrated through his muscles to dance against her fingertips as his tongue mated with hers. The spicy, orange flavor of the jam they’d had at breakfast flooded her mouth. It held the faintest hint of honey and whiskey. God, the man was a veritable feast of everything hot and male.

Desire spiraled through her limbs, while her nipples hardened. The corset she wore was low enough that the hard edge of it brushed against the stiff peaks causing them to tighten and ache with an almost painful pleasure.

The moment a large hand slid up from her waist to brush across the top of her breasts, a soft moan whispered out of her. Beneath the gown’s bodice, the tip of her breasts tightened even more until she whimpered with need. In the back of her mind, she knew this kiss was madness, but she was beyond all sense of reason. The only thing her body wanted—needed—right now was his touch. Everything else was lost in a mind-numbing bliss.

Chapter 10

The sweetness of Madeline’s lips against his made Iain’s heart slam into his chest like a sledgehammer. Every erotic thought he’d ever had about her clouded his head as he savored the hot taste of her. The soft scent of lavender filled his nostrils, and he pulled her soft curves even tighter into his body. Beneath his kilt, his cock was hard as iron.

It had been a long time since he’d had a woman, but he couldn’t remember ever having a woman in his arms as intoxicating as Madeline. The soft sigh of delight he heard pass her lips stirred a need in him to carry her upstairs to his room and revel in her warm, fragrant skin.

He wanted to explore every inch of her with his mouth and hands. Most of all, he wanted to sink into her hot, silky folds. He wanted to feel her body clutching his as she cried out his name, just before her body shuddered beneath his with wild abandon as she came fast and hard.

Like a sleek kitten aching to be stroked, her body moved against his in a silent plea for him to satisfy them both. His hands cupped her buttocks to tug her hips forward until his cock was nestled between her voluptuous thighs with only her gown and his kilt preventing him from taking her this second.

Raw, carnal need surged through his veins as he struggled not to sit her on his desk, lift her skirts, and slide into her. Knowing he was on the precipice of doing just that, he pushed her back until she was an arm’s length away from him. Passion softened her features as she stared up at him with surprise and disappointment.

Self-disgust sailed through him. Christ, the woman was a guest in his home, and he’d been on the verge of taking his pleasure with her. Iain shook his head as if doing so would clear the fog that still blinded him to almost everything in the room except her.

“Forgive me, Madeline.” He swallowed hard. “I should nae have—”

“There’s no need for an apology. We’re both adults.”

Shoulders rolling in a nonchalant shrug, she turned away and took a step toward the door. There was something about her stiff posture that made Iain reach out to catch her arm. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he saw something unfamiliar flicker in her gaze. Unable to decipher the emotion, he studied her intently.

“Ye misunderstand, mo leannan. I dinnae regret the kiss. I found it immensely pleasurable, but I took advantage of the situation.”

“I don’t regret it either,” she breathed softly. “And it was… I enjoyed it very much.”

Color flooded her cheeks, and with a gentle tug, she freed her arm from his grasp then fled the room. As the study door closed behind her with a solid thud, Iain shoved his hand through his hair. Madeline Whitworth was beginning to be a problem for him.

A delectable one, but a problem nonetheless. Iain dragged in a harsh breath. He’d nearly lost control a few minutes ago. No woman had ever affected him like Madeline had. His chest tightened as he remembered the tantalizing heat of her mouth against his.

She’d been every bit as tempting and exquisite as he had imagined she’d be. But the last thing he wanted was for her to think there could be anything permanent between them. He had Thane’s and Flora’s deaths on his hands, Iain refused to be responsible for a third.

With a sharp turn on his heel, Iain turned and walked to the window to stare out at the sea as he remembered the conversation that had led up to their kiss. Her claim that she was from the future had made her sound like a madwoman. If not for the woman he’d seen on the cliffs the night the Phoenix Rising sank, he would have thought Madeline demented.

Perhaps they both were. Madeline for saying she was from the future. Him for believing she was the woman who’d vanished mere minutes before the sea had smashed the Phoenix Rising on the rocks. But every detail of Madeline’s dream matched up precisely with what had happened the night he’d stood on the cliff watching the Phoenix Rising fighting to reach safe harbor.

The only thing missing from her description was how she’d disappeared like a phantom right in front of him. What had happened to her at that precise moment? She’d said her dreams always ended the same way before she awoke. She was drowning.

Iain released a harsh breath as he remembered Grace’s vision. The an dara sealladh had shown Grace images of Madeline drowning. Thinking back to the day of the storm, Iain remembered how badly shaken Grace had been by what she’d seen. The night his daughter had tended to Madeline’s injuries, she’d reminded him of her vision before he’d sent her down to supper.

Later that evening, when he asked his daughter if she was certain Madeline was the woman in her vision, Grace had been unshakeable in her conviction about what she’d seen. Grace had been emphatic that the an dara sealladh had shown Madeline drowning. Iain drew in a small breath as he remembered how his daughter had said Madeline had drowned somewhere else, but not here.

Was such a thing possible? Could Madeline really be from the future? Could she have—no, Grace had to be misinterpreting her vision. Madeline hadn’t drowned. She’d bravely swum through the rough sea to him, and he’d pulled her from the water himself. He shook his head at the memory of her clinging to him as the waves pounded the two of them against the rocks. Iain didn’t have an explanation for anything where Madeline was concerned. At the moment, the only thing he understood was that both of them might be mad as hatters.

§ § §

Iain smiled as his daughters charged out of the front door of the manor. Yesterday afternoon, the prospect of rain had forced him to change his plans for surprising the twins. They’d not been happy when they’d been told they would have to wait until today for their surprise, and he was grateful the sun was out so they weren’t disappointed again.

Following behind the girls at a more sedate pace was Madeline. As she stepped out into the sunshine, he allowed himself to enjoy the sight of her. The sun gave her skin a warm glow and made her brown hair shimmer in the light. She looked delectable, and the moment his gaze swept over her, pink color crested over her cheeks.