Page 12 of Single Desire
“And I’ve never kissed a Scotsman before.”
“So once again it seems we are evenly matched, are we not?”
“Mmmm, so it would seem—”
Alec could stand no more. That was as far as she got. His mouth trapped hers. A jolt shot through him the instant their lips touched. He felt a tremor of reaction in her, and he knew then just how much she returned his passion. His mouth opened over hers. He’d wanted women before. But not like he wanted this one. It was as if she’d cast a spell over him.
And he kissed her the way he’d wanted to since they met—with a heady thoroughness, delving into the far corners of her mouth with the heat of his tongue. Tasting the promise inside her. Harder, until he was almost mindless with need.
She tore her mouth away. She was panting softly. “Scotsman!” she whispered.
Alec opened his eyes. His breathing was labored. It took a moment for him to focus, for her words to penetrate his consciousness.
“What if we should be seen?” she said. “Perhaps…we should go elsewhere.”
There was no mistaking her meaning. His Irish lady pirate was willing—and he was quite wanting. Oh yes, definitely wanting.
“I agree, Irish. I quite agree.” He tugged at her hand and started to lead her toward the next set of double doors.
“Where are you taking me?”
He stopped short. “What! I thought you knew, Irish.”
“Tell me.”
He slid his hand beneath her hair and turned her face up to his. “Why, I’m about to kidnap you, Irish.” He smiled against her lips. “I fear it is the pirate in me.”
Chapter Four
I prefer to dance naked around the fire. I fear it is the pirate in me.
Inside, Maura cringed, in utter mortification as her words played through her mind again and again. Lord, had she really said that? What had she been thinking? Something within her administered a stern admonishment, reminding her that pirates were adventurous. Pirates had no scruples.
She and the Black Scotsman had parted inside the ballroom, so as not to arouse suspicion. They met again at the landing of the stairs. He laughed softly when he saw her wave down a servant bearing a tray. An instant later a full bottle of wine and two goblets were in her hands.
He didn’t realize it was the means by which she would tame him.
And the fortification of courage for her.
From the moment he presented himself before her, panic threatened. A part of her longed to flee. To hide. It was as if alltime had stopped. The pulse of her own heartbeat resounded in her ears.
Despite Eileen’s prattling on about how the ladies flocked to him, he was nothing like she expected—yet exactly as she should have expected.
His breeches were of skintight leather, tucked into high, cuffed boots. Like her, he wore a loose white shirt. The strings were untied, revealing a hair-roughened chest. Over the shirt was a vest, much like hers.
There the similarity of costume ended. He wore neither hat nor scarf, as she did, but rather a narrow bandanna tied around his head. Eileen had not exaggerated, Maura decided with a flutter of her pulse. He was handsome, disturbingly so. Disarmingly so. Almost wickedly so!
Jet-black hair tumbled over his forehead. It deeply emphasized the contrast between the pale blue of his eyes and the pitch-blackness of his hair. A patch covered one eye, and only served to heighten the aura of danger he exuded.
It spun through Maura’s mind that this was exactly how his ancestor must have looked. Raw. Dangerous. Deadly.
Added to it was a sense of tightly leashed control. A coolly disguised arrogance. She was certain she didn’t imagine it. Most disconcerting of all was his regard. Bold and almost possessive, it trickled slowly down her body.
And it was scarcely that of bored indifference.
When their eyes finally met, it was as if a bolt of lightning shot through her. In that fraction of a heartbeat, she knew…
Alec McBride, Duke of Gleneden, was a man who got what he wanted, she was certain of it. He was a man of unrelenting purpose—and she, she realized shakily, was what he wanted! Whatever had she been thinking, to presume she could control a man like this!
