Page 60 of When the Laird Conquers

It was certainly a better game than cards, and she was not at all sorry that she had lost.

Indeed, she could have stayed like that for a very long time, safe in his embrace, savoring his kiss. So much so that she did not want it to end, despite the fact that she could feel herself getting sleepier and sleepier.

With one last kiss, Gordon pulled back and bent down to retrieve her nightdress from the floor. “Stand up, Sunshine.”

She barely had the strength to, her limbs feeling as if they were made of butter.

With a rumbling sound that might have been a chuckle, Gordon carefully pulled her arms through the sleeves of the nightdress. That done, he buttoned the garment, his fingertips deft and quick despite the large size of his hands.

“Now that I’ve tired ye out,” he said, scooping her up into his arms, “ye’re to go to sleep.”

He carried her back to her side of the bed and tucked her beneath the coverlets.

“I daenae want to hear another peep out of ye,” he added teasingly.

From the soft pillow, she turned her head to look at him and, smiling sleepily, gave a nod. “Only if you stay beside me.”

He sighed. “Very well, but if ye toss and turn again, I cannae be held responsible for what I have to do to get ye to fall asleep.”

“I agree to your terms,” she murmured, momentarily wishing she did not feel so relaxed, so sleepy, for she rather wanted to find out what his other options entailed.

As she felt the bed dip under his weight and sensed his closeness at her side once more, she closed her eyes. This time, there were no racing thoughts, only the pull of a deep, contented slumber.

23

Vaporous sunlight teased Agnes out of her deep slumber, her eyes blurred as they fluttered open. Half-dazed, she stirred slowly, feeling each limb awaken. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so relaxed or slept so well.

It was at that moment that she became aware of where her hand was… and what she could feel beneath her palm. Something that radiated heat, hard as a rock.

She blinked down and saw through her hazy vision what she was touching—that mysterious part of him that so intrigued and frightened her.

His kilt had shifted in the night, riding higher up his powerful thighs. If she were to tease the hem up just a little more, she might actually get to see what it was that she was touching, might be able to unravel the mystery once and for all.

What could be the harm in taking a peek?

After last night, seeing him somewhat naked would only be fair.

She was about to reach for the edge of the kilt when she heard a growl above her, rumbling in the chest where she rested her head.

“For Christ’s sake,” Gordon murmured. “There ye go again, provokin’ me.”

A soft yelp slipped past her lips as he snaked his arm around her waist and rolled her over. The weight and power of him pressed against her as he pinned her to the bed, his grey eyes blazing with the same hunger she had savored last night.

A smile graced her lips as she ran her hands down his muscular arms, enjoying how they flexed as he held himself up. Maybe she should have been scared to be pinned beneath such a man, but after what they had shared, she felt nothing but growing desire.

What might I learn this morning, I wonder?

A sudden frown creased Gordon’s brow, as if he were in pain. His voice took on a harsher tone as he said, “Do ye see what ye’re doin’ to me?” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “That’s a problem, lass.”

“It is?” She tried to be coy, certain that this was all part of some enticement, a game to play before he pleasured her again.

His gaze hardened, his hunger turning into something more like anger. “Aye, it is, ‘cause I willnae claim ye. I willnae be somethin’ to ye. Our agreement was a fake betrothal until ye’re safe.” He paused. “This isnae real. Ye understand?”

She stared at him, her desire turning cold in her veins. She didn’t need to be scolded by him as if she had done something wrong. As far as she was concerned, what had happened last night had happened because they both wanted it. She was not solely responsible for it.

More than that, how could he call her pleasure fake? How could he call their closeness fake? How could he hold himself right there on top of her and call their desire fake? Was he trying to convince himself, or was he merely revealing the cruelty that she had overlooked and disbelieved before?

And here I was, thinking something had changed last night.