Part 20 (1/2)

”Yes, well, you are holding a rather great quant.i.ty at the moment. I'm not certain-”

”I am certain-and I'm certainly impatient to go to bed”-he waggled his eyebrows-”if you take my meaning.”

”I'm afraid I do. Look, Kilgorn, you might want to be slightly less, um, elevated before you approach Lady Kilgorn.”

Ian held up a hand to stop Motton-and then used it to brace himself against the bookcase. He spoke carefully. ”I liked your earlier advice better, and I believe I shall act on it immediately.”

”Oh, dear G.o.d.”

Ian grinned. His melancholy had quite dissipated. ”Prayer is very good, Motton. I'll leave you to continue your devotions.” He turned carefully and headed for the door, taking advantage of the chairs, the desk, and the bookcases to guide and steady his path.

Would Nell be in bed already? Mmm, yes, certainly. In bed. Stretched out under the covers, hair down-surely she didn't braid it? Well, if she did, he would unbraid it and spread it out over his pillow.

He misjudged the height of a step and had to grab the banister to keep from tumbling up the stairs. See-his reflexes were splendid. He'd always been able to hold his liquor. h.e.l.l, he could drink many a man under the table. Of course he wasn't drunk. Maybe a little elevated, all right, he'd grant Motton that, but only a little. Just enough to take the edge off.

He reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hall. d.a.m.n it, someone had carelessly placed a small table against the wall. Didn't they know people had to walk here? He caught the vase before it tumbled off, but the flowers in it cascaded to the ground. Well, that was easily fixed. Not all the water had escaped. Just scoop the flowers up and shove them back where they'd come from.

Ah, here was his room-their room. He fumbled with the doork.n.o.b, pushed the door open...Splendid! Nell was already in bed. He grinned.

”I'm here, la.s.s, and I'm verra ready.”

CHAPTER 5.

”Ian.” Nell's heart slammed into her throat. She tried to swallow it back down where it belonged. It was not moving. She had to whisper the words around the lump. ”Ready? Ready for what?”

He looked so...big. He filled the doorway. She pulled the coverlet up as a s.h.i.+eld.

Were his eyes a little reckless? Had he been drinking?

”Ready for bed.” He stepped all the way into the room and closed the door behind him. ”And to sleep.” He grinned. ”Eventually.”

She s.h.i.+vered in a most embarra.s.sing place and pulled the coverlet higher. ”What do you mean exactly?”

”Exactly?” He unb.u.t.toned his waistcoat. ”Hmm, what do I mean exactly?” The waistcoat hit the floor. ”Let me think on it.” He pulled his s.h.i.+rt out of his waistband and jerked it over his head.

Oh, dear G.o.d. She could only stare at him. Her mouth was dry-but another part of her anatomy was exceedingly wet. It s.h.i.+vered again, anxious, eager.

Her stomach s.h.i.+vered with...fear?

Should she really do this? Could she feel only physical sensations or would she feel more? Did she want to feel more? And if she...if his seed...if she became pregnant...

She couldn't think.

The firelight played over Ian's skin, revealing and then hiding. He was definitely larger than she remembered. Well, he'd been hardly more than a boy when they'd wed. Now he was every inch a man. Chiseled muscles bulged in his upper arms and his chest down to his flat stomach and- Oh, my. His muscles were not the only part of him bulging. Had he always been so large there or had his...his...had that grown, too?

”Care to have a closer look, la.s.s?”

”What?” She tore her eyes from his, um, well...she tore her eyes away to look up at his face. The blasted man was smirking. And he was coming in her direction.

She swung around to face him as he approached, her feet dangling over the side of the bed, the coverlet still held in front of her.

Ian laughed and twitched the cloth out of her fingers. He reeked of whisky.

”You're drunk.”

”Nay.” He smiled, the blasted dimple she hadn't seen in forever appearing in his right cheek. ”Weel, maybe a wee bit bosky.”

More than a wee bit. She'd get bosky herself just inhaling his fumes. This was a bad idea.

He took her hands and held them against his naked chest. His skin was warm; the hair, soft and springy under her fingers. She felt his heart beating.

”Your hair's like night; your skin like cream, so soft and smooth.” He brushed her hair back from her face, his hands tangling in its length. She closed her eyes to concentrate on his touch.

His fingers skimmed over her forehead, her cheeks, down to her chin. He tilted her face up-dear Mother of G.o.d, was he going to kiss her? Her lips felt swollen; she parted them in antic.i.p.ation....

His mouth touched hers, his tongue slipped inside.

Mmm. He filled her with heat and whisky and a taste that was his alone. Desire pooled between her legs, hot and wet. Her lips felt swollen there, too. She spread her knees and Ian's leg came between hers. His fingers plucked at the skirt of her nightgown and pulled it up to her thighs so he could push her knees farther open. He stepped closer.

It was good. It felt good, the night air cooling her heat.

Now his fingers were brus.h.i.+ng down her front, slipping her gown's b.u.t.tons free. That was good, too. She was much, much too hot. She could hardly wait to feel the cool air on her skin there as well.

She slid her hands up the hard plane of his chest, over his broad shoulders, to his neck. Her fingers burrowed into his hair and she held his head steady.

Oh. He was pus.h.i.+ng back the sides of her gown, exposing her- Mmm. His palms slid over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His hands cradled them, lifting while his thumbs- ”Ahh.” She broke free of his mouth. ”Oh.”

”Like that, do ye, Nell? Your b.r.e.a.s.t.s were always so sensitive. I loved to touch them, loved to hear you squeak.” Ian nuzzled the spot on her neck just under her ear. ”Do ye still squeak?”

”Uh, no, uh-eek!” Ian's thumb flicked over her nipple, which was budded hard and yearning. He chuckled and kissed her jaw.

”Aye, ye do.” He rubbed both nipples.

”Ohh.”

”And ye moan, too.” He moved his hands to her jaw, holding her face so he could look into her eyes. ”G.o.d, Nell, how I've missed you.”

His eyes were so...hot.

They hadn't changed. Oh, there might be a few wrinkles at the corners, but his gaze was as compelling as ever. He had looked at her this way before, when they were young and in love.

No, don't think of love. Don't think at all.

She moved her fingers from Ian's hair to his waistband.

”Ah, that's it, la.s.s.” Ian rested his forehead against Nell's. He should not have had so much whisky. He knew it, in a vague sort of way. He was in a bit of a fog at present. He wished he weren't. He wanted to remember every single moment of this.