A Time & Place for Every Laird by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader TXT) 📕

hadlaughed freely, worrying less about the world outside the haventhey had created and liking him more with each minute thatpassed.

But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.Life wasn’t enough for her any longer. She wanted more. More fromlife. More from herself. More from Hugh. But Hugh—self-acclaimedking of courtly flirtation—was not giving it to her at all.

That night, Claire had lain in bed staringup at the ceiling, unable to find rest, but had realized somewherebetween one and two in the morning that the anticipation of waitingfor something to happen had only made her more attuned to Hugh’severy move, more aware of him. The feel of his body next to hers,the restrained passion of his kiss …

All she could think about was Hugh. Whenwould he touch her? How? Where?

God, hewas good, wasn’the?

The following day, as if knowing Claire wasonto him, Hugh had changed tactics and the casual touching hadbegun. He had brushed his fingers over her hands while they werecooking, stroked her hair or cheek when passing by until Claire wastensing with delicious anticipation whenever he was within arm’slength. It was as much a tease as his withholding of the same hadbeen. That afternoon, as the rains had continued, Hugh had offeredto read aloud to her and surprised her by lying on his back andputting his head in her lap.

Hugh had read aloud superbly, and thecontinuous soft purr of his brogue had made for a heavenly evening.It was surprising for her to realize that where she had barelyunderstood him at all when they had first met, she no longer neededto concentrate on deciphering his words. Instead, she only listenedto the words with half an ear as his rich brogue flowed throughher, sending her senses quivering. Claire had rested her head backagainst the couch and closed her eyes as he read, stroking herfingers through his hair, trailing them around his earlobe, andspreading a trembling hand over his shoulder and across hischest.

He had looked up at her then, blue eyes onfire, and had reached up to caress her cheek. Claire had been surethat he was going to kiss her, but instead Hugh had pulled away andannounced that the rain had stopped and that he was taking a walkon the beach.

The tension between themwas thick and heavy by that time. Claire waiting. Hugh restrained.Claire was acutely aware of every move he made, every breath hetook, every muscle that contracted, and in an attempt to provide adistraction—any distraction—had suggested a movie. A nice violentaction movie to cool her shameless thoughts. Since Hugh had becomemore comfortable if not friendly with the TV, he had agreed, andClaire had put on one of her favorites, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Settlingcomfortably next to him on the couch, she had launched into atechnical explanation of movies and their history that had calmedher nerves and mind until …

How she could have forgotten that scene whenthe fighting stopped and the sex began, Claire had no idea. But oneminute, Brad Pitt was shooting at Angelina Jolie and the next hewas throwing her up against a wall for reasons that had very littleto do with violence.

Hugh, who up until that point had beenbrimming with questions about everything from the concept of amovie, to the reality of it all, to the weapons they used, fellsilent as the sex scene played out. His warm, relaxed body wassuddenly tense next to hers. “Stop this, please,” he had saidquietly, and Claire had hit the pause button, looking at himcuriously and waiting for him to say something.

“I am nae voyeur,” he had growled. ThoughClaire had awkwardly tried to explain to him that it wasn’t real,she couldn’t argue with his point that it had looked real. WithHugh in the room, pressed up next to her, it had felt real.Arousing. Undeniable.

That’s when the wood chopping had begun.

Why he had chosen to vent the tensions onthe chopping block rather than on Claire, she had no idea, but shecouldn’t help but watch him move, always moving. Prowling.Flaunting that big, heavenly body before her until Claire’s thighswould clench together involuntarily. It had been so long. Toolong.

Lust had never been a problem before. Clairereasoned that it must be the isolation that was driving herinsanity. There was no one to talk to but Hugh. No one to look atbut Hugh. But that was a lame excuse for what she felt. Even if ithadn’t been three years since a man had touched her, Hugh wasundeniably physically magnificent.

And he wasn’t just a hunk of manly flesh. Hewasn’t defined by that twelve-pack of abs or by biceps so bulgingthat she couldn’t wrap both hands around them. Or even by adazzling smile that made his face so beautiful that the ancientgods would have been envious.

Hugh was intelligent,challenging. Confounding in his ability to complete puzzles of allkinds. After finishing The History of theWorld, he had completed an entire book ofSudoku in just an hour after Claire had explained the objective,and Robert’s jigsaw puzzle in just a couple more, before destroyinghis effort and rebuilding it to the point where Robert had left it.On top of that, he was learning about the twenty-first century withamazing speed.

Claire had gone fullimmersion on him, lecturing Hugh on the importance of beingtechnologically savvy and forcing him to become familiar with theonline world … or at least more familiar than a fifth-grader’sgrandparents. She had made him use the computer for his historylessons and to show him how the world worked today on a globalscale. They focused on the economy of the United Kingdom, so thathe would know what to expect when he got there, and Hugh absorbedit all like a sponge, going so far as to read Robert’s entirebacklog of the New YorkTimes.

And Hugh was funny and entertaining. He hadmade her laugh as she hadn’t in years. They walked for hours up anddown the beach, with each minute filled with stories of his time orcoaching on life in her world. He had lightened her heart and hermind until Claire was able to forget her heartbreak and years ofloneliness, and she thought she helped him to do the same. ThoughHugh went