Page 28 of Scandal with a Sinful Scot

“Kiss me then,” Alberta whispered.

Gently grasping the sides of her head, he stared into her glorious golden-brown eyes. Slowly, he leaned in, making the anticipation flare between them. He nibbled on her lush lips, then took it deeper, taking complete ownership of her mouth. Alberta kissed him in return, tangling her tongue with his.

How gratifying to react this swiftly to a devastating kiss at his age. At forty-five, he had a number of good years left; why not embrace everything life had to offer? Encircling Alberta’s waist, he brought her in tight against him. Against his stiff and aching prick.

She replied with a moan, which heightened his desire to a level of wild fierceness he’d not experienced in years. “Julian,” she whispered against his mouth as he trailed hot, fevered kisses down her neck.

Reluctantly, he ended it by cupping her flushed cheeks and gazing into her eyes. “I’d better have that brandy,” he rasped.

“Brandy?” She smiled. “Of course.” Alberta left his arms and walked toward the sideboard. He felt her absence keenly.

This had moved beyond a flirtation with an attractive neighbor. How far he wished it to advance was another question entirely. Julian understood Garrett’s reluctance. Hell, he’d lived it, and he never wanted to live through burying a woman he loved ever again. At least, not before reaching old age. Logic dictated that he walk away from what was developing between him and Alberta. But when did logic ever enter into emotions?

Caution was needed. To keep his emotions tightly reined.

Easier said than done.

Chapter 9

Later that night, Garrett paced about his room. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in more than two weeks. There were a number of reasons: one was finding out he had a daughter. To discover her kissing a man with decided enthusiasm was a swift kick to his guts. Megan stood on the cusp of womanhood, and Garrett had missed so much of her life. It put him in a somber mood, mourning the time he had lost.

His talk with Jonas had made him realize that the young man was passionate and intuitive about the world around him. He had come to know Jonas better the past several weeks, while he’d been supervising the improvements about the small Eaton manor house. Perhaps he should include Jonas more in the planning of repairs. Though he may be slow, Jonas did possess an innate intelligence that could be channeled into something worthwhile. The young lad had mentioned an occupation. He would give it serious thought.

His reflections turned to Abbie. Bad enough she had haunted his dreams all these years, drifting around the corners of his subconscious, tormenting him with heated memories of their youthful affair. But to have her down the hall was more than he could bear. How tempting it would be to march to her room, kick the door in, and make love to her until she writhed and cried out his name. Lick and taste every inch of her silky, sweet skin. No other woman had ever affected him in such a stark way. If he allowed this attraction between them to go further… Could he push her from his life once again? How could he with Megan in the picture?

Garrett stalked to the sideboard and poured himself a scotch, the family Mackinnon’s own special single malt. His rooms were laid out much like a large flat, with the front section serving as a combination library-study. Through to the rear were his large bedroom, dressing room, and bathing room. He had a custom-made copper tub built to accommodate his large frame. Water pipes had been installed two years past, eliminating the need for servants to fill the tub, so he indulged in a daily soak, especially after working in the stables all day. The rooms garnered him the privacy he desired. All of the men of Wollstonecraft Hall had similar floor plans in their respective wings.

After slumping into his leather wingchair, he stared moodily into the fire as he sipped his whiskey. His muddled emotions brought their first meeting to the forefront. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and was drawn away somewhere in time. He was riding the horse he had owned before Patriot, a black stallion called Midnight Thunder. He had come upon Abbie on one of the numerous horse paths meandering through and around the estate.

Garrett brought Thunder’s reins up short and called out, “Whoa.” Everything around him came to a complete standstill. Before him stood the most beautiful creature that he had ever laid eyes on. Could it be a fairy princess from another realm?

It was a young lady wearing a lavender walking dress. She wore no hat or gloves, but he couldn’t blame her, as the air was hot and humid. She carried a small matching parasol, but did not use it to keep the sun off her face. Instead, she seemed to be enjoying soaking up the rays.

The lilac shade of her gown enhanced her porcelain skin and glossy black hair, which was piled high on her head; a couple of loose strands framed her glowing, lovely face. The surrounding countryside faded away, leaving only…her. She was all that existed for him. Garrett’s heart pounded with a fierce beat, the blood rushing to his ears.

“Hello,” she said. “You have a beautiful horse.” She shaded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him. “And I must say that you are beautiful as well.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Bold minx. He gave her a wicked smile as he slid off Thunder. “I am Garrett Wollstonecraft.”

“I hope you don’t mind me perambulating about your property. I am staying with Sir Walter Keenan, your neighbor. His niece is a dear friend of mine.” The young lady returned his smile. “We arrived yesterday and are here for most of the summer.” She held out her right hand. “I am Abigail Wharton. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wollstonecraft.”

Her voice was light and musical, as if someone were clinking crystal champagne glasses together. The enticing sound caused shivers to run along his spine and his breath to catch. Taking her hand, he bent over it, somewhat awkwardly. He wasn’t used to the falderal of parlor manners. He’d only attended one ball, in London, and he had spent most of the evening in the card room. “And you, Miss Wharton.” His voice sounded husky to his own ears. It was as if he’d been hit by a bolt of lightning. He dropped her hand a little too quickly and took a step in reverse.

“Will you walk about with me, show me your property?” she asked politely.

What an audacious female. Not only speaking her mind, but daringly meeting his gaze. Weren’t young ladies supposed to giggle and avoid eye contact with men, instead batting their eyelashes coquettishly? Not this one, and he liked it. More than liked it, for he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “If you like.”

“Oh, dear. I am about to do something entirely scandalous.” She stepped before him, rose on the tips of her toes…and kissed him. The suddenness of it shocked him to the heels of his dusty boots. Then came the sensations that followed: the softness of her lips, her evocative scent of wildflowers, fresh air, and sunshine. If sunshine even had a scent. Dropping the parasol, she rested her hands against his chest. Since he was riding about his own property and because of the warm weather, he only wore breeches, tall boots, and a billowy white shirt open partway down his chest.

When her hands made contact with his bare skin it seared his flesh, and he dropped the reins and riding crop and pulled her into his embrace. Already aroused, his cock stiffened to the point of pain. Garrett deepened the kiss and she gasped, opening her mouth enough that he could slip his tongue into it. The taste of her made him moan. Every part of him sizzled from her heat. More…he needed more…

Soft rapping at his door brought him out of his dreamlike state. Bloody hell, he was aroused. Scrubbing his face with his hand, he glanced at the mantel clock. Past midnight, who in hell… No. She. Wouldn’t. Dare.

Garrett was shirtless, his trousers undone and riding low on his hips. He shot to his bare feet and slammed his glass on the nearby table. Whoever knocked at his door past midnight deserved to be traumatized by his appearance. He marched to the door and pulled it open.

Abbie.

God, she was gorgeous, still the fairy princess from another realm. She wore a sheer pink nightgown and matching wrapper, with pink fur trim about the neckline and the cuffs. He glanced down. Her small feet peeked out from under her ensemble. Slowly he trailed his gaze across her tempting curves. Giving birth to Megan had only enhanced her lush figure. “Abbie, what…”