His heavier body lay across her skirts, trapping her with only her chemise to guard her modesty.

“Ye hit me, wildcat, so do nae be crying when it was you that set the tone of our conversation.”

Jemma grabbed her skirt and gave it a yank, but the fabric remained lodged beneath his weight. “You earned it for behaving like such a blackguard and stealing a kiss from me.”

“Hmmm . . . possibly.”

“There is no question about it. Now get off my dress, we should not be in . . . in—”

“In bed together?”

Jemma felt her face burn with a blush. “Exactly.”

“With yer skirts tossed?” His lips were curving up in a grin while his tone mocked her.

“Stop it. This is cruel. Riding out was foolish, but I am not a slut, and you should not be looking at my thighs. No one has ever looked at . . .” She couldn’t help how pitiful she sounded. Helplessness was closing around her with an icy grip. There was nothing to stop him from doing what he would. Even her own body seemed to have a liking for his touch. She looked away from him, unable to prevent two tears easing from her eyes. She may have done some foolish things since her father’s death, but never had she shamed him.

A soft word muttered in Gaelic drew her attention back to Gordon. He lifted his body so that her skirts were loose. She pulled them toward her and sat up so that her legs were covered once again. Gordon relaxed against the bed once more, lying in a contented pose while he studied her. It was by far the most unusual setting she had ever been in. All her life had been dictated by rules and traditions. The prospect of being in bed with a man she barely knew had never occurred to her. At least, not if that man was not her husband. Brides often had to deal with meeting their spouses for the first time on the their wedding night.

But she had no such comfort as knowing that wedding vows protected her honor and future. Losing her maidenhead tonight would see her facing a harsh reality tomorrow morning. There would be plenty who would point and judge her for not being pure. Gordon wouldn’t face such. No, the shame would be hers alone and well deserved for sneaking past Synclair the way she had. There was no one to blame but herself.

She drew in a deep breath and banished the tears from her eyes, better to face what was to come than shiver in dread.

“Well? What do you want now, Gordon Dwyre?”

His lips twitched, but they didn’t curve. The man appeared to be watching her, studying her.

“I shouldn’t have looked at yer thighs, lass.”

Jemma nodded agreement.

“But I enjoyed it full well.” He smiled with arrogant confirmation of that enjoyment.

She offered him a short huff. “If you think I’ll thank you for that compliment, you are mistaken.”

He lifted one thick finger. “Maybe not, but I see that ye find me as interesting as I find you.”

“I do not.”

His lips parted as his smile became larger. “Ye undress me with yer eyes, Jemma; ’tis a fact that I find it hard to resist.”

“Try harder.” She would, she had to.

He shook his head. “But ye did hit me, so—” His gaze lowered to her lips and passion flared to life in his eyes. “Ye owe me one sweet kiss to relieve the pain.”

“Trust a man to believe kisses relieve pain.”

One of those eyebrows rose once more. “Do ye deny that many a mother has offered a kiss to soothe the discomfort of her child?”

“You are not a child.” And she was far too aware of it for her own sanity. Her nipples were still hard, begging for the touch of his skin against them. The idea of kissing him was threatening to cast every scrap of self-discipline aside.

“If I roll onto me back and allow ye to tickle me belly, will ye offer me a sweet kiss, Jemma?”

Her mouth went dry. “I shall not.” Jemma forced the words past the wicked urgings that were emerging from the excitement flickering inside her. Part of her did want to touch him, almost too much to ignore.

“Well, that’s a pity. I think I would have enjoyed it full well.” He winked at her before rolling over his shoulder and off the edge of the bed. His kilt went flying, but he landed on his feet in a balanced stance before straightening up, and all she gained was a flash of his trim backside.

A pity . . .

Her cheeks flamed scarlet.

“I must admit that I did enjoy putting ye to bed, lass. I hope I get the chance to do it more often.”

She gasped and snarled as she struggled to crawl off the bed, but her dress hampered her progress.

“Why do women wear such stupid clothing?”

Jemma didn’t realize that she had voiced her thought until she heard Gordon laughing once again. This time it was husky and sweet, sounding far too enticing for her frayed self-control.

“Well now, lass, I admit that the idea of seeing ye in a kilt would be pleasing indeed.” His face became a mask of sensuous intent, shocking her how much she noticed his emotions. “But that would put yer thighs on display to everyone, and I think that I’m not liking that part of it at all.” He plucked at the edge of the rust and orange wool that formed his kilt, lifting it a few inches to show his own thigh that was cut with powerful muscle. Her gaze lowered to it, remaining there until the wool pleats of his plaid fell back down to cover his bare skin.

“No one will disturb ye in this chamber. Ula will knock.”

“So I may feel at ease, is that what you suggest?”

He shrugged. “I could stay and do me best to help ye settle in. We do seem to find things to talk about.” His eyes narrowed. “And do.”

“The chamber is very nice. Thank you for your kindness, but I have all that I require.” She fired off her retort rapidly. “Pray, do not let me keep you from more important matters.”

He chuckled at her, his lips flashing an arrogant grin. “Very well, lass, although I confess to being just a wee bit disappointed in yer choice.”

He considered her with one more long look before turning and quitting the room. Jemma relaxed, her body sagging on her knees in the middle of the bed with her skirts puddled about her. Her heart was beating fast as though she had been running. The night air felt good against her skin because she was warm, just like on a summer day. Her corset felt abnormally tight, and her nipples were still hard behind them. She felt drained now that he was gone, as though her emotions had returned to normal. But she now understood how little she felt during her everyday life.

Jemma gasped at the horror of the moment, raising a hand to cover her mouth. Horror, torment, and longing. Shock held her in its grasp so tightly, all she could do was sit there while the events of the night replayed themselves across her mind. She trembled at the recollection of how close she had come to her own death, but that paled when compared to the way she quivered when she thought about the kiss Gordon Dwyre had pressed against her lips. The darkness around her suddenly became more friend than enemy because it shrouded her and her blush. Try as she might, there was no way to banish Gordon from her mind.

No, there was only the night and the man who had kissed her beneath its velvet curtain.

His cock was hard.

Gordon made his way down the hallway, forcing his feet to carry him away from the woman who had awakened his flesh. Her kiss had been sweet, so much so he felt drunk on it.

“I heard that ye rode back in.” Anyon leaned against the wall with her skirt raised up to show him one long leg. She was a well-shaped woman and knew how to use what nature had blessed her with.

Used it to bring a great deal of pleasure, too. She offered him a sultry look from beneath lowered lashes before sending her hand over her own thigh. One slow rub that normally captivated him. She lifted her eyelashes and stared at him with invitation burning brightly in her eyes. Her breasts swelled temptingly above the edge of her bodice that had always been cut just a small amount lower than the other women who served in his house. He’d never lamented that fact, either.

But tonight it wasn’t holding his attention. Instead he noticed the knowing gleam in her eyes and the practiced slant to her smile.

And almost coy.

“What keeps you from me, lover? Shall I come to you, like a harem girl in the east?” Her skirt fell down to cover her leg, and her hips swayed with just the right amount of motion while she moved to him. She didn’t rush, knowing full well how to draw out the moment to build up the passion.

“Not tonight, Anyon.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and ran a knowledgeable hand along the front of his kilt. Just a light caress, but she sighed when she felt his erection.

“If ye are weary, I’ll ease the stiffness from yer flesh before ye seek yer bed.”

She sent her hand down to the edge of his kilt, her fingertips touching his bare thigh before denial shot through him so hard he jerked away from her. Hurt crossed her face, confusion filling her eyes.

“Ye desire that Englishwoman ye brought back with ye.”

Hurt edged her words, and she pressed her lips into a hard line before backing up. “She’ll not be able to satisfy ye as I can. She’ll cry that ye bruise her. The English are too soft to be good bedsport.” Anyon held out her arms. “Come to me, lover. I’ll give ye what ye crave as I have before.”

“I know ye have, but tonight I have no appetite for ye, Anyon. ’Tis sorry I am to say such to ye.”

He kept his voice low, but her eyes still blinked rapidly as she tried to hold off tears. Anger darkened her complexion. “Fine then. See what sort of sleep ye get with that swollen cock keeping ye company.”

“Anyon—”

She didn’t give him time to try to comfort her. In a swirl of wool she turned and disappeared down the hallway. The night swallowed her up as though she had never been there.