Page 87 of The Devil Wears Kilts
“I—”
He captured her mouth with his. With every ounce of his being he wanted her in his life, for the rest of his life. But with that same conviction he knew that no matter what he did, he couldn’t keep her as safe as she would be in London, as safe as she would be with someone like Lord Stephen Hammond. But by God he wasn’t going to let her go without loving her one more time.
“Ran, you n—”
Pulling loose the ribbons at the back of her pretty brown and yellow gown, he yanked the dress down her shoulders and took her right breast into his mouth, sucking and flicking the nipple with his tongue. He caressed the other one with his free hand, squeezing and tugging until she gasped and arched her back against him.
Freeing her arms from the muslin, he pulled her gown down around her hips and let it fall to the floor. Then he took her mouth again, freeing his hands to unbutton his trousers and throw off his coat. The rest of his clothes could wait. He wanted her, needed her, now. Nothing else mattered.
Lifting her in his arms, he laid her on the narrow couch and climbed over her, thrilling when she reached up to grab his shoulders and pull him closer for another kiss. Before she could regain her sanity he nudged her knees apart and pushed himself inside her, fast and deep.Mine,he thought fiercely. For these few moments she belonged to him, as utterly as he belonged to her.
She came immediately, shivering around him, making him even harder, drawing him in deeper. Keeping his gaze locked on her face, he entered her again and again and again, until he couldn’t hold back any longer and spilled himself inside her.
Breathing hard, he lowered his head against her shoulder. That was all he could do. He couldn’t lock her away any more than he could lock the world away. All he could do was love her, and let her go. Even if it killed him.
“Ran,” she whispered, drawing her fingers through his hair, “I think I was wrong.”
He kept his eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. She’d come to say it, and he’d let her do so. “Tell me,” he forced out.
“You’re not from London,” she said quietly, idly playing with his hair in a way that brought warm shivers of pleasure down his spine.
“Aye. I’m aware of that.”
“What you do, the way you live, it’s the way that works for you. It’s how you keep everyone safe.”
“But I dunnae keep everyone safe,” he countered, ordering himself to muster some damned courage and lifting up on his arms to meet her exquisite hazel gaze.
“No one can keep everyone safe. But you do a… a damned fine job of it.” She grimaced. “Three men tried to bait you into a fight last night. And I think the second two tried it only because you didn’t make the first one back down.”
Something odd seemed to be happening. Ranulf reluctantly pulled out of her and climbed to his feet, fastening his trousers and then offering her a hand to help her sit up. He collected his dark gray coat off the floor and gave it to her. It was far too big for her, nearly swallowing her when she put her arms through the sleeves, but seeing her covered up did help his brain to function a bit better. Straightening his shirt, he sat on the couch beside her.
“So. Are ye saying I—”
“I’m saying you should have bashed George Gerdens-Dailey. Or Berling. Or Calder. Or at the least made certain they all knew you could have done so.”
For a long moment he sat beside her, just looking at her. With her legs curled beneath her bare arse and her hands just showing beneath his pushed-up sleeves, she looked terribly demure and terribly arousing all at the same time.
“I thought a brawl was the first resort only of inferior minds,” he drawled.
“I was wrong.”
“Can ye say that again? I didnae quite make it oot.”
“Awful man,” she muttered, slipping beneath his arm and tucking herself up against his side. “Here, two Englishmen fighting over some idiotic matter of pride or honorisridiculous. For you, when you punch Lord Berling in the nose you aren’t doing it because… well, because you’re big and strong and you can. You’re doing it to warn him and his to keep their distance, because it’s an alternative to having to kill one of them.”
“Ye almost make me sound reasonable, Charlotte.”
“You are almost reasonable.” Leaning up, she kissed his jaw.
“Deaths still happen, lass,” he made himself say. “And the dearer someone is to me, the more likely they are to be hurt.” He sighed. “And I’m nae certain that a brawl or two would ever change that.”
“I’m willing to—”
“M’laird!” Owen shouted, pounding frantically on the closed sitting room door. “Trouble!”
Ranulf was at the door in two strides. “What trouble?” he demanded, yanking it open.
“One of the new stable boys was oot walking Stirling, and he saw Laird Arran and Lady Winnie surrounded by a group of men. I—”
