Page 19 of His Beauty
“One more answer, if you do not mind.”
He blew out his breath in one giant heave, as if it were a major inconvenience, and flopped back against his chair. “Fine,” he barked.
This was a question she’d had since she’d arrived at Oliphant Castle, and since it seemed as if she’d win the match and be owed a favor, she could waste this opportunity on a question which had been bothering her.
“Who is Keith to you?”
“He’s my butler.” The answer was immediate and flippant.
She propped her elbow on the table and lowered her chin into her hand as she studied him. “He said the same thing, but he calls you by your first name and joins you for meals. He is frankly terrible at footmanning— Wait, is that a verb?” She frowned in concentration. “Footing? Footmandering?Footmaneering? Anyhow, he is not very good at serving meals. And he spars with you daily.”
Lyon was still watching her. “I need a sparring partner, and nae one else will live here with me.”
She dropped her voice. “Who is he, Lyon?”
He held her gaze, and she could see the debate raging behind those hazel eyes, so similar to his not-a-butler’s. Finally, he dipped his chin once in acknowledgement. “He’s my brother. A bastard my father sired with a local lass during his second marriage.”
She exhaled, and he echoed it. Then she nodded. “That makes sense.” Laird Oliphant made all the gossip columns last summer when he announced the arrival ofanotherillegitimate son, Max Deville. Bonnie’s sister Ember was now married to him. “The two of you are close. As close as you are with Phineas and Lysander?”
Shrugging, he dropped his gaze to the chess board, as if his answer didn’t matter. “Keith was with me after the fire. He’s stayed with me the entire time. Nae matter how bad it—I—got.”
But she knew itdidmatter.
He cleared his throat, reached out, and moved his queen into the only position available. Just as quickly, her bishop darted forward and knocked over his king.
They met one another’s eyes over the chess board, and his lips twitched slightly. “The game is yers, milady.”
“Bonnie,” she corrected in a whisper, already feeling the heat between them.
He inclined his head slightly. How could he appear so at ease, but also a hunk of coiled masculinity, both at the same time?
“Bonnie,” he repeated, “what favor will ye ask?”
As if her body was reacting to stimulus outside of her brain, she stood and stepped around the table. He watched her as she moved up beside him, only his eyes moving, and she could swear he was holding his breath, same as her.
And then she stood next to him, over him, close enough to see the short golden hairs on the smooth side of his jaw, and the flecks of gold in his eyes, and the ridges of the scars along his ruined eye socket. Even as she was absently wondering what they would feel like, her hand was rising, until she cupped his cheek.
They both sucked in a breath, together, and it was one of the most intimate things she’d ever experienced.
“I want you to kiss me, Lyon.”
His eyes widened, and she only then realized what she’d said. He looked half-sick at the prospect, and her lips curled wryly, deciding she didn’t want to ask him to do anything which would make him uncomfortable.
“Not now,” she whispered, brushing her thumb over his scars once, before dropping her hand. “But someday. I have never been kissed, and I want you to be my first.”
He made a noise which might’ve been a groan, might’ve been a laugh, but she didn’t have the courage to find out which it was.
Instead, she curled her hands into fists to keep herself from reaching for him again, then brushed past him and hurriedout of the study. Tonight, she’d pull on his shirt, curl herself around a pillow, and dream someone as magnificent as Lyon Oliphant might actually want someone like her.
CHAPTER 5
Iwant ye to kiss me, Lyon.
I want ye to be my first.
Those innocent words, an innocent offer, had kept Lyon tossing and turning most of the night. The thought of being herfirst—which, in his mind, kept turning into much more than kissing—had him fisting his own cock not once, but twice.
Just before dawn, he gave up on trying to get any sleep and rose, throwing on just enough clothes to head to the loch to bathe. Frankly, in the stupor he was in, thinking about Bonnie’s words, it’s a miracle he didn’t stumble into the water and freeze to death.
