Page 19 of A Heart Worth Loving

Her teeth grazed the sensitive sides of his cock in agonizing pleasure and need. Ewan pumped into her mouth, lifted his hips, and pumped faster. She moaned and his climax rolled over him with blinding force. She took him in, sucking harder, and he knew nothing but her.

Ewan jerked awake at a clap of thunder that shook the glass tumbler on the table beside him—and was someone pounding on the door?

Kyla—

Christ, he’d been dreaming. He grimaced. He’d been more than dreaming. He hadn’t pleasured himself like that in years. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad he was still capable of such pleasure or to be afraid that his neighbor had incited such passion.

The pounding on the door persisted. Ewan rose, strode across the room and down the hall. He reached for the door as he shouted, “Who the bloody hell is pounding on my door at this hour?”

He yanked the door open and stopped short upon recognizing Constable Hamilton. Two men accompanied him. Ewan glimpsed the grip of a revolver peeking out from behind the coat of one of the men. He flushed warm.

“Do ye plan on making us stand out in the rain?” the constable demanded.

Ewan yanked his gaze onto the man. “What— Oh, aye.” He stepped aside.

The men entered and removed their hats.

Ewan started to demand what was wrong, then thought better of the curt demand, and invited, “Come into the library. I will pour ye some whisky and you can warm yourselves.”

The constable nodded. “Aye, we wouldnae mind the hospitality.”

They took off their coats and hung them on the coat stand near the door, then followed him to the library. The men stood hear the fire and warmed themselves, then gratefully accepted the whisky Ewan offered. Ewan nodded at the chair near his, and Hamilton sat.

After he drank half the whisky, the constable said, “Have you noticed any strange doings, lately?”

“Strange doings?” Ewan repeated. Kyla Brodrick’s face rose in memory.

The taller of the men with the constable studied him harder than the other.

“Such as?” Ewan asked.

“A schooner dropped anchor in a cove ten miles down the coast in Beauly Firth,” Hamilton replied.

“I know that cove,” Ewan said.

The constable’s gaze sharpened.

“That doesna mean I am a smuggler,” Ewan said. “Any suspects?”

“We have some idea,” he replied.

Ewan gave a mirthless laugh. “Do you believe we could establish a smuggling ring in the month we have been here?”

“You wouldnae have to establish the ring to be involved,” the taller man interjected.

Ewan gave a slow nod, his gaze still on the constable. “What fool would use his own home to stash his pirated goods?”

“Do you store goods here at the abbey?” Hamilton asked.

“Of course,” Ewan replied. “Vegetables, hay, grain.”

“Any French brandy?”

Ewan snorted. “If we could afford it, aye. But, nae. We have no French brandy. Or silk, tea, spices, or anything else of any real value.” Ewan studied Hamilton. “Ye do not strike me as a fool. I wager you do not believe we are the smugglers, but others do.”

“Blackstone Abbey has been vacant for five years,” the constable said.

“If you suspected the abbey of being a smuggler’s hiding place, why did you no’ search the property when it was empty?”