Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) by Angeline Fortin (bill gates books to read .TXT) 📕

If she thought she’d run the gamut of possible kisses that day, she was wrong. It wasn’t slow and sensual as some had been, nor was it hot and fervent. Meant to arouse or impassion. Even though she might have begun it with that intention.

No, it was a kiss of joy. Release.

Just plain liking.

They sank below the water before the kiss ended and broke it before reaching the surface once more. Keir smiled down at her as he wiped her hair from her eyes. As if he had gotten a glimpse of the freedom she felt. The smile was one, not of teasing or flirtation or deviltry, but happiness.

“Tell me how ye learned to swim so well.”

And so she told him, opening up for the first time about her family and childhood. The loneliness in her life and the peace she’d found in swimming but had forgotten until that day. They floated along, languidly stroking through the water every once in a while, talking. Just talking. Not about the future. Not about science or innovation. Or the history of the years between them.

But about themselves. About the history of him and her and the stories that had made them who they were.

The sun began its descent by the time they swam toward shore, the water beginning to chill them both after almost an hour in it. He caught her hand, tugging her along with him. When he could touch bottom, she hugged his shoulders and climbed on to his back, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“What is this?”

“Haven’t you ever carried anyone like this?” she asked, running her lips up the side of his neck. Her breasts flush against him.

He shook his head though his hands running familiarly along her thighs to cup her bottom belied his words. “Nay, nae quite like this. But I maun hae carried one like this a time or two.”

He rotated her until she was chest to chest with him. Again he cupped her bottom, but this time drew her down instead of lifting, pulling her tighter against him. The rough hairs of his chest tickled and aroused but not as effectively as the rampant erection pressed between her thighs.

“You’re such a rake,” she said softly, teasing the curling hair at his nape through her fingers. He gave her a sharp glance but Al only smiled. “A rogue then. Tell me what would a rogue do in this situation?”

Take her in the water until there was nothing left of the firth but steam? Make love to her on the beach until they both had sand everywhere it should never be?

Fantasies spinning through her mind, she kissed him again but to her surprise, he didn’t allow it to deepen as he had before. Instead, he eased her away, carrying her up to the beach before dropping her on her feet.

What was wrong with him? Or was it her?

It had always been her.

No, he wanted her. Badly enough even the cold water of the firth couldn’t diminish the evidence.

What then?

“What is it?” she asked, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. She yanked on her shift, needing even that thin cloth to provide some shielding between them. “I’m practically throwing myself at you, in case you hadn’t noticed. I know you want m—want to. Have sex.”

“Och, lass,” he groaned, hauling her into his arms. Forcing her to look up at him when all she wanted to do was look away in shame. He framed her face between his hands and kissed her gently. “I do want ye, mo ghrá. Ne’er think otherwise. I want ye so badly, I could hae taken ye in the firth or right here on this beach. Bugger it, I’ve been wanting ye since the moment I kissed ye this morn. Before e’en. Dinnae think otherwise.”

“What’s stopping you then?”

“This is what’s stopping me,” he gestured to the wide open expanse of beach. “I’ll nae be taking ye in the water nor the sand like an animal, lass. Nae matter how desperately I want tae. When I bed ye, I plan tae do it properly.”

“Properly?” she repeated in amazement, snatching up her petticoat. “Never tell me the Rake of Ross is a prude who only does it in a bed?”

“’Tis another challenge?” To her surprise, he laughed, lifting her once again into his arms and kissing her until she was delirious with wanting. “I’d take ye any way a man can, mo rúnsearc. But the first time, aye, I plan tae do it in a bed. Wi’ a door tae gi’ us privacy and the hours required tae gi’ the task proper attention.”

Her eyes rounded. “The proper attention? Would you care to elaborate?”

And he did. Verbosely. Describing every last detail of what he planned to do to her as they dressed in the essentials, carrying their stockings and shoes and Keir his vest and jacket as they headed back up the beach.

Apparently he’d given it a lot of thought, yet the description was filled with starts and stops. He broke off again and again to draw her into his arms, kissing her silly.

As if the telling alone were so arousing he couldn’t help himself.

She hoped so.

Chapter 23

Only years of playing at Rosebraugh as a lad had gotten them through a maze of narrow service stairs and hidden doorways without being detected. He wasn’t making a terribly agreeable impression on his first day as a duke but his mind was occupied with far more undukely thoughts.

Though he knew his new staff would be waiting to greet him—though most had known him since he was but a lad—and Cook would have prepared a feast to welcome him, Keir was more interested in the feast he was about to partake in.

At last.

It had been a day of torment, first in their long exploration of the kiss, but even more so when Al had stripped down to her bikini that was not actually one. Whatever it had been by name, by