Page 4 of The Highlander’s Improper Wife

She drew a sharp breath when he bent and whispered a kiss on her neck. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You are beautiful.” He flicked his tongue against her beating pulse point. “I want to steal you away, but I will settle for having you here.” He cupped the back of her head, angling her mouth for a kiss. She parted her lips and his tongue glided along hers. A low groan rolled from his chest as he pressed the hard length of his cock against her abdomen.

“Having me?” Clutching fistfuls of his shirt, Caroline allowed her head to fall back.

“Yes,” he murmured, and blazed a trail of kisses along her jaw, down her neck, to the curve of her shoulder. He traced the swell of her breast, then found and pinched a beaded nipple.

She cried out. He tugged down her bodice, exposing a taut tip, then plucked the bud between his lips and gently bit.

“So sweet.”

“My lord,” she breathed.

He threaded his fingers through her wig. The wig shifted. Caroline jerked to shove it back into place, brushing her hip against his erection. He sucked in a breath and yanked up his kilt. She froze at sight of the full erection jutting towards her, as if begging her to take what she wanted. His warm fingers closed over hers and guided her hand downward, where he firmly wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

She startled at the velvety smoothness. He was so…she squeezed. Not rough or calloused—her heart raced—what had she expected? Caroline realized with a horrified start that she had no idea what to expect, and released him as if he were a snake. She flattened her palms on his chest in an effort to distance them and met the warmth of his sculpted torso.

“Good Lord.” She snatched her hands back.

He cupped her derriere, lifted her more intimately against his arousal, and rested his forehead against hers, their masks touching. “Let me touch you.”

Her pulse jumped. They were alone. Margaret believed she had fled the masque. What could a little touch hurt?

“Yes,” she whispered before she could change her mind.

He set her feet back on the ground, then slipped a finger beneath the dress and shoulder. Gooseflesh raced along her arms where his warm fingers touched her. She shivered. His gaze remained on her as he slipped the dress off her arms. The fabric dropped to her elbows, exposing both breasts.

Silence drew out between them. She trembled, but knew her reaction was fear and not the damp air that crept across her flesh. What had happened? Had he changed his mind? Caroline stiffened. Was she not beautiful enough? She lifted her gaze to find obsidian eyes staring from within the slits of the mask. He watched for another long moment, then lifted a hand and cupped a breast. She shuddered.

His mouth curved into a slight smile. “Do I please you, Aphrodite?”

Caroline was unable to utter a sound. He gave a low laugh, then bent and traced a circle around her nipple with his tongue. Cool night air chilled the places his hot mouth and tongue touched. She grasped his shirt. A woman’s moan of pleasure abruptly intruded on their solitude.

He straightened. Caroline yanked her bodice over her breasts. He pulled her close, sheltering her from view. Whispered words drifted towards them from the maze entrance.

“Bloody hell,” Caroline cursed.

He looked down at her. “Interesting vocabulary, my lady.”

She scowled. “Not nearly as interesting as our present position.”

“Indeed.”

There was no mistaking the laughter in his voice and Caroline narrowed her eyes with the intent to chastise him when the woman giggled.

Caroline jerked her gaze in the direction of the voices. “They are searching for a private nook.”

“I shall inform them that this particular nook is occupied.”

He started to turn and she seized his arm. “No!” The voices drew closer. “Good God.”

Caroline released him, and rearranged the sash. The bodice didn’t fit as snugly as it had earlier.

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Do you think we will be discovered?”

“There is always a chance.”

More giggles followed, closer this time. Caroline squinted past him into the shadows. His warm fingers grazed her cheek beneath her mask. She lifted her gaze up to his. He stared down at her and her pulse spiked. A woman’s low moan sounded nearer. Caroline’s masked lord grasped her shoulders and maneuvered them a few inches to the left, then back between the bench and denser foliage. The rustling of fabric drew her attention and she peered around his broad shoulders.

“Shh,” he whispered against her ear.