My Heart's in the Highlands by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

Hispulse was beating visibly at his throat, and Hero longed to feelthe pressure of it pulsing against her lips.

Her own pulse quickened at the thought offeeling his flesh against her lips, of breathing the scent of himagainst his warm neck. She inhaled a shaky breath and clenched herhands tightly before her. She had missed their private momentstogether these past days. She had missed him.

“The color of that dressing gown reminds meof your painting. Like the dress.” His hand reached out of thedarkness as he traced the back of his knuckles down the slipperysilk, but still Hero couldn’t move. “Since we’re here, should wedance once again?”

There was more than a request in his words,perhaps a hint at her uncertainty. In spite of his flirtation withDaphne at the dinner table, did Ian still desire her? Prefer her?Well, Hero wanted him to want her and had to know for certain. “Areyou sure it’s me you want to … dance with?”

“Good Lord, Hero,” he moaned, his arm lashingout to catch her around the waist, pulling her close. “What a foolyou are!”

Hero didn’t have a chance to respond but itdidn’t matter at all when Ian pulled her body against his anddipped his head to capture her lips with his. His kiss wasravenous. Far removed from the tender kisses they had shared indays past. His lips devoured hers hungrily as his arms enfolded hertightly.

Helpless against the passion that assailedher, Hero surrendered to his kiss, allowing him to part her lips,welcoming the sweep of his tongue with a low moan. She could feelhis hands running up her back and clung to his shoulders, kneadinghis flesh as he did hers.

Ian lifted his head. “Tell me you want me,Hero,” he whispered thickly.

“Tell me you don’t want Daphne,” shewhispered back, running a palm up his muscular chest until itrested over his heart. “Oh, my lord, please tell me that you feelthis too! It’s so strange and wonderful—tell me I am not herealone.”

Ian put a hand over hers and dragged it tohis mouth, pressing a hot kiss to her palm. “You are not alone,Hero. By God, you are not,” he growled, as if the words were beingforcibly torn from him. “You have drawn me into your web since themoment I laid eyes on you, flesh and blood. Yours is a face I haveseen a thousand times, yet you became real to me in that moment. Iknow you felt the same. You have known me in your heart always.Confess it.”

“Yes, always,” Hero complied automatically tohis command, feeling the words as if they were drawn from her verysoul. They wove about her an aura of desire and more. She ran herpalms across his chest until she was clutching his lapels andleaning against him in a posture she had never dreamed of engagingin with any man, most certainly not one she’d known so briefly. AsIan said, however, this was a feeling of ages. They might have justmet but what she felt was ancient.

“This is not the stuff of a scurrilousaffair, fair Hero,” Ian continued in his deep brogue, assuring herof his interest even more. “Mock me if you must, but I feel this isthe stuff of fairy tales. I’ve never believed such a thing possibleand, frankly, feel a fool for confessing as much.”

“You are no fool, Lord Ayr.”

“Say my name, Hero,” Ian urged brusquely.

“Ian …”

Her chance for more words was gone but Herodidn’t care. This was what she had been waiting for. Ian’s passionunleashed. The full intensity of it was set free to be spent onher. Ian kissed her hotly once more. Hero moved with him andagainst him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hold himtightly. Through her dressing gown and thin night rail, she couldfeel the heat of his body, feel the muscular planes of his chestand stomach pressed against her. Feel his thigh pressing betweenhers, feel his ridged length against her belly. Ian’s hand droppedto cup her bottom, pulling her even more tightly against him. Hisother hand cradled one breast while his thumb teased her nipple andHero quivered with desire, her breath coming in shallow pants.

“Ian,” she moaned against his lips, “I don’tknow … tell me how to please you.”

“Ye are, my Hero,” he murmured thickly,wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her against him. Hespun quickly and backed her against the side table, setting herdown on top of it. “I’ve ne’er been more pleased.”

Grasping her ankle, Ian ran his hand up herleg. His palm was rough against her soft flesh, sending shivers ofdelight through her. Reaching the back of her knee, he lifted herleg and pressed himself between her thighs. His erection pressedagainst her throbbing core. Hero gasped, his rumbled groan echoingthe sound. “Oh, yes. Ian …”

“I want ye, Hero,” he growled into her ear,and the wave of passion that sizzled through Hero’s veins left herdizzy.

The crash of glass shattered the night andthe pair pulled apart in surprise.

“What was that?” Hero asked weakly, her headstill spinning.

“If it’s your father, Cooper is about to bethoroughly sacked,” Ian grumbled, turning for the door. Again hewas left wanting, left with the pain of passion unsatisfied. Thefrustration was becoming unbearable and was working on his temper.If one of Beaumont’s nurses was again slacking in their duties, amere sacking would be the least of their worries.

“You’ll have my blessing,” she said as shepushed from the table, smoothing her dressing gown as she met himat the door. “What is it?”

“A broken lamp,” Ian said, picking up severalglass pieces from the hall floor and setting them on a nearbytable. The small stump of a candle lay in the middle of the poolingoil and Ian picked it up curiously, wondering how it had come to bethere. There were no candlesticks in the gas-lit hall. There was notable close enough to the broken lamp that it might have simplytipped and fallen. “Someone was here.”

The thought must have unnerved Hero, sinceshe drew her dressing gown more tightly around her. “Someone waswatching us? I wonder who.”

“It might have been one of the servants,” Iansaid. He glanced around, looking for