Page 41 of Claimed By a Savage Scot
Once again, she watched him go. But this time, she strongly suspected that there were no “important matters” to attend to. He had left simply because he disliked any talk of marriage and did not want to listen to what she had to say.
Later that evening, Malcolm found himself heading outside Catriona’s room, rehearsing in his mind the apology he had spent the last couple of hours trying to frame. He felt very bad about just up and leaving the supper table like that—for the second time—without offering her any explanation for his actions. No wonder she had looked so confused.
He stopped outside her door and was surprised to find it slightly ajar. Seeing no reason to knock therefore, before announcing himself, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
“Catriona,” he began, “I owe ye an?—"
His words cut off as his eyes were immediately drawn to the tub in front of the fire. They widened in shock as he realized what he was seeing.
Catriona was standing on the hearthrug next to the tub… and she was completely naked!
His heart thudded in his chest as if it would burst out through his ribs, and his mouth went dry. He could not prevent his stunned gaze from wandering all over her wet, naked body, tracing every luscious pink and white curve but inevitably drawn to the most beautiful pair of breasts he had ever seen. He stared at them hungrily, his cock jumping to attention in his trews.
“Oh!” She spied him, her eyes flying wide, brows shooting up. She hastily wrapped herself in the towel she was holding, depriving him of the lovely view. “How long have ye been standin’ there?” she demanded, the familiar line forming between her brows, two hectic spots of crimson coloring her cheeks.
“I, er, nae long, I came tae…” Malcolm trailed off again, for the towel did not quite offer complete cover, and his attention was caught by a rosy nipple peeking out. She noticed him staring and adjusted the towel at once to conceal it.
For a few long moments neither of them moved. Malcolm felt the temperature in the room rise sharply, as did his cock.
He tried not to stare at her, but it was so hard to look away.
“I’m sorry, the door was ajar, I thought…” he muttered, struck by a sharp pang of guilt for not having checked before barging in on her.
“Was there somethin’ ye wanted?” Catriona asked, her voice small.
Och, there is now.
“I came tae apologize,” he replied, hearing the strain in his voice. He knew he should leave but he could not seem to move. He was drawn towards her then, his feet moving of their own accord across the floor. And with every step, the tension in the room thickened, just like the erection pushing impatiently at the front of his trews.
He approached her as he would a nervous filly or an injured fawn, slowly, making no sudden moves, drawn by those wide green eyes and the tempting curves outlined by the damp towel, which clung to her like a second skin.
After what felt like an eternity, he found himself standing in front of her, feeling the heat of the bath coming off her, breathing in her lovely, womanly scent as he gazed down into her eyes.
“Cat,” he breathed, reaching out a hand, brushing a damp, curling auburn tress from her face, and tucking it behind her ear.
She took in a long, shaky breath, looking up at him, eyes wide, full of fear and… something else… a desire that mirrored his own. A tremor passed through her, making her breasts tremble beneath the towel. God, how he ached to touch them, taste those glorious pink nipples outlined against the towel.
Slowly, he trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek, over her full lips, her throat, to the very edge of the towel, eliciting small gasps from her.
This time, he decided, giving way to the primal compulsion, nothing was going to stop him from kissing her.
Only inches apart, they stared at each other for a few intense moments, which seemed to Catriona like the longest of her entire life.
Her insides melted to see the naked hunger in Malcolm’s dark eyes, her chest fluttering like a bird’s as she struggled to catch her breath as he touched her delicately as if she were made of porcelain and he was afraid he might break her. She shivered with anticipation as he tilted down towards her.
Despite her inexperience, when he thrust his hand into her hair and pulled her towards him by the nape of her neck, slashing his mouth across hers, she was ready, meeting his hunger with her own, drawing on a fiery passion he had ignited somewhere deep inside her and which burned her like a flame.
She cared naught for the nuns’ propriety as their tongues clashed and tangled in a wildly erotic dance. Swept away, robbed of thought, she rose onto her tiptoes and leaned into him, weaving her arms around his brawny neck, pressing herself against the warm, hard length of him, fingers tangling in his wild, dark curls, pulling him closer, greedy for more of his kisses.
She felt no shame as her nipples stiffened under the towel, and a throbbing heat pooled between her thighs. She let go of the towel, moaning in pleasure as his powerful hands raked overher naked curves, squeezing her waist, her hips, cupping her behind, knowing in her bones that only he could ease the terrible yearning inside her.
She gave herself up fully to the kiss, wanting more than anything in the world for it never to stop.
The knock on the door might as well have been a bomb going off, if the way they sprang apart was anything to go by.
They stared at each other wildly, his face as flushed as hers. Catriona grabbed up the towel and covered her nakedness before surprising herself by taking charge of the situation.
“Who is it?” she asked, never taking her eyes from Malcolm’s.
