Page 45 of Deception of a Highlander

“Yer skin is smooth as silk.” A ripple of excitement raised the hair on her arms. “Everywhere.” His voice was a strangled groan that tightened her nipples.

Mariel felt herself swaying toward the hard wall of his chest as if physically drawn to his strength, his warmth. The pad of his thumb brushed her lower lip, sending an insistent thrum of desire humming in her core.

He stared down at her, and a muscle leapt in his jaw. “We canna do this.”

Frustration coupled with the sting of hurt. His face became impassive, and the wall he so often put up rose between them once more.

“You want me,” she insisted. She could feel the proof of his desire pressing against her belly.

“I dinna need a mistress, Mariel.”

He stepped away, and the chill of the room crept across her scantily covered flesh. His rejection burned deep despite the comfort his words had brought only moments before.

He strode to his chair and sank into it before resuming his stare into the smoldering fire.

But Mariel did not move toward the door.

This was not over.

She would not give up so easily.

CHAPTER 18

The floor was cool beneath Mariel’s feet, a balm for the searing heat flaring through her.

Kieran stared into the flames of the fire, his gaze unfocused. She knew he expected her to leave, but she would not. She could not be rejected again, not with so much at stake.

Mariel drew a deep breath, gathering the strength to sever herself from the newly formed bond between them. If she stayed, she could not allow herself to deepen that connection, or she might never succeed at what she’d been sent to do. No, this needed to be an act of a physical nature. An act aimed at his pleasure.

One that omitted her feelings and thoughts.

They were far too dangerous.

She did not ask his permission to stay. Instead, she knelt beside his chair. His gaze turned to her, startled no doubt by her lack of obedience to his firm command. The wooden floor was smooth beneath her knee as she leaned forward and trailed her finger along the side of his strong calf.

“Mariel…” His tone held a wary note, and he tensed beneath her fingertips.

Her hand skimmed over his knee and brushed the hem of his kilt. Were Kieran a typical target in the usual setting, he would have succumbed to the effects of the laudanum by now.

She inched toward the edge of his plaid and higher still to reveal the middle of his thigh. Her fingers trembled in their ascent across his legs, hard with muscle despite being relaxed and sprinkled with dark hair like his chest.

She had never proceeded this far before.

Kieran’s eyes were inky black with desire, watching. Waiting. She bent over his knee and swept her lips across the coarse hair. He did not move to stop her.

A languid thrum of longing pulsed low in her belly. She slid her palms up his thighs and focused on his knees in an effort to pretend he was another man, one she did not respect and admire. One she did not care for.

His fingers threaded through her hair and sent a ripple of pleasure tingling down her scalp to the base of her neck. The heat of his arousal whispered against her fingertips, and her heart slammed in her chest with overwhelming anticipation.

Kieran’s hand tightened into a fist against the back of her head with a pressure firm enough to bring her actions to a standstill.

She drew a deep breath and held it in preparation for what she knew would inevitably come next—rejection.

* * *

Kieran held Mariel pinned in front of him, torn between taking her back to her bed and carrying her into his. His thighs burned where her fingertips had explored, where her lips had scorched. He should have let her continue her way up his legs, let her mouth wrap around him, hot and wet. His loins throbbed in painful reminder, cursing him for interrupting her once more.

Now she knelt before him with her eyes averted and her mouth soft and trembling. A tense silence filled the room as desire warred with honor.