Page 122 of The Scot’s Secret

Alex was scared. Or had been scared. And she had done that to him. She hated that she’d caused him pain.

Clara glanced at Gilbert, who said, “Go. I’ll be here when you return.”

She wanted to reach across the table and squeeze his hand. Gilbert was alive, and he was here. At Keston House.

“You better be,” she said, standing.

The look Gilbert and Alex exchanged was a conspiratorial one. Not only had the men met on the road, it seems they had formed a bond, which, knowing Gilbert, was not surprising. He might appear scary to some, but to her, he was like a second father. Her savior.

Clara followed Alex from the hall, and when they reached the door, he held it for her. She walked through it with one last glance at Gilbert. Alex continued walking, so she followed. Past the kitchen and the stables, he walked to a path that led downhill.

Like most inns, especially ones this remote, Keston House was built along a river. She’d discovered it on their very first visit. Rivers tended to have mud, which was a necessary component of her disguise.

He didn’t stop or even speak to her along the way. So he was angry. Well, she couldn’t blame him. But he could at least tell her that himself.

“Alex?”

He continued walking until he reached the river bed. She turned and could no longer see the inn. They were quite. . .

“Oh!”

He pulled her toward him so quickly she nearly lost her footing. His lips were on hers before she could say another word. She wrapped her arms around him and clung on as if she would never let go. His tongue slid into her mouth and she met his movements with her own. Urgent and frenzied ones that said more than words ever could have.

He’d been scared for her, but no more scared than she’d been for herself. To be in his arms again. . .

She never wanted to leave.

30

Alex had never been more relieved in his life. Seeing her through that window, knowing she was truly safe. He needed to be closer. He needed to feel her, love her, show her that they were never going to be separated again.

He started with the cap. Having taken it off her before, he knew where the pins were located. After tossing them to the ground, he removed her boy’s clothing next, which, admittedly, was much more malleable than her heavy lady’s gowns.

His heart soared when Clara attempted to remove his tunic, and he helped by raising it over his head.

“Clara,” he murmured against her lips. Her answer was to untie the laces of his breeks. He tore off the remaining vestiges of her clothing and didn’t even hesitate. His cock was hard, ready, and he knew she was just as primed. Checking to ensure it was so, he hardened even more at the feel of her slick folds and the sound of her soft moan.

Alex lifted her then, not wanting to waste time even to lay her down.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed as he held her with one arm and guided himself into her with the other. His face was buried in her neck, her hair teasing him from above. But Alex only wanted one thing, and he was about to have it.

“Oh,” she said as he entered her. He slid her down atop him gently and then wrapped both arms around her buttocks, bringing his mouth to hers.

Alex kissed her with all of the built-up passion, the longing he had endured not knowing if she was safe. He moved against her, trying to go slowly.

She wouldn’t let him.

The vixen slid her tongue against his suggestively and lifted herself up just enough to slide down once again. He groaned, increasing the pace and the pressure. He needed this, needed her. They matched each other’s intensity until she broke away from him, tossed her head back, and climaxed, allowing him to do the same.

He thrust into her, leaving no doubt that she was his, now and forever. He held himself there, wanting to bind them together for eternity.

Alex tightened his grip on her backside as he leaned toward her to whisper in her ear.

“You are mine, Clara. And I am yours. We will never, ever be parted again.”

If she said aye or nay, it hardly mattered. So long as she wanted him, so long as she loved him, he would spend a lifetime looking for her. He’d spend his days trying to convince her with words and his nights doing the same with deeds.

As the throbbing slowed, he pulled back to look at her.