Page 57 of Bride of the Sinful Laird
Annora could swear he winked at her before he wandered off, chuckling to himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Once they were inside their bedchamber, Annora let out a long sigh. She was finding it difficult to comprehend that mayhap it was Harris MacDonald who had been the one behind the attempt on her life. Nonetheless, she pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind, refusing to share this moment with something so discomfiting.
Ensconced in the chair by the fire, she turned to admire Edmund as he splashed water on his face, washed his hands and poured water from the ewer into the washbowl. With a damp washcloth he sponged his torso and around his neck, across his shoulders and under his arms.
He took a linen cloth and dried off.
All the while she couldn’t take her eyes off his powerful body, recalling the gentle way those strong arms had held her when they kissed.
By the time he was dry and fresh, she was fizzing with desire for him. She cast down her eyes, fearing that when he looked into her gaze, he would see her feelings for him written far too clearly.
He plucked her out of the chair she was sitting in as if she was the weight of a feather, then he hoisted her aloft and took the seat himself positioning her on his lap.
“Now, lass, let us continue from where we left off last night when that ill-mannered storm ended the pleasure the faeries wished fer us.”
She looked up at him from under her dark lashes, laughing in his arms, pretending to be affronted.
“Why Laird Edmund, should ye nay be resting yer wounded arm?”
He pshawed at that. “Why would I allow a wee scratch tae come between me and those lush lips of yers, or the soft warm curves of yer breasts?”
As his fingers wandered below her hem and slowly raised it, she gave his good shoulder a playful tap. “Why, sir, ye are indeed impertinent tae presume that I share yer bawdy sensibilities. I’m nay a tavern wench, ye ken.”
“Och lass, I’ve ne’er thought of ye as aught but me good wife, whose kisses I treasure above all things.”
She lay back against his arm. “Is that true?”
“What – that I think of ye as me…?”
“Nay.” He was so close, she could smell the faintest hint of pine and leather, and feel his warm breath in her hair. “The part about me kisses…”
He chuckled. “Aye lass. Yer kisses are the sweetest wine in me mouth.”
She looked up, catching his darkening gaze, and a tiny, scorching rivulet coursed through her, stirring her blood, causing her to gasp – whether from shock or something else, she could not tell.
All of a sudden, the notion that her kisses were more to him than any other lass’s, was paramount in her thoughts. Stroking her fingers across the smooth skin of his muscular bare his arm, she whispered,
“And like nay other’s?”
Her voice carried an annoyingly plaintive note she hoped he’d not detect. She held her breath, waiting on his reply.
He slicked a wayward strand of her hair back from her forehead, his green-gold gaze never leaving her face
“I think ‘tis so, lass.” He raised a pensive finger and placed it underneath his chin as if he was testing his memory. “Mayhap…”
She huffed. “Well?”
“Mayhap I need tae refresh me recollection one more time before I can be altaegether certain.” Now his finger cupped her chin, turning it so that her lips aligned with his. “Another kiss?”
This was the very thing she’d been waiting for all along. She melted into him, savoring the feel of his lips as they descended onto hers, meeting his playful tongue with hers, tasting his salty tang and breathing in his unique, woodsy, masculine, scent.
He brought up her legs, so that she was draped against him, her breasts crushed to his chest and his fingers toying with the hem of her kirtle where it had folded above her knees. He slipped his hand under the skirt and traced his fingers along her sensitive skin to toy gently, sensuously, with her thighs, heightening the flames that were already setting her on fire.
She made a strange gurgling sound in her throat and he chuckled, a dark, growl of a noise. With one hand she clutched his shoulder, with the other she weaved her tingling fingers into the thick length of hair at his nape.
Lost in a delicious haze of his kisses and the feel of his body so close to hers, she hardly heard the intrusive banging on the chamber door.
