Something brushed his boot, and regardless that Edinburgh was teeming with rats, he’d lay odds it wasn’t one. It was, incredibly, his wife’s shoe. Looking toward her, he gulped more ale.
A faint smile curved her lips. “Now that your father is dead, what’s become of her home, then?”
The question jarred him back to his senses. “Why, it belongs to me,” he said, surprised at that sudden realization. For most of his adult life, he’d done his fighting best to banish all thoughts of home from his mind. “The castle was her dowry. So it belonged to my father, which means it’s now mine. But I won’t be selling it out from under her. She may have been an appalling mother, but I won’t put her out on the streets.”
He drained the rest of his ale, wondering whether to be annoyed or pleased that his wife had materialized in Scotland. Experimentally, he tried to draw his hand from hers, feeling his body quicken in response when she held it tight.
He was pleased, he decided. A long abstinence did much to sway a man’s emotions.
Not to mention the apparent change of heart on Kendra’s part. Mystifying, to say the least. But he’d be insane not to take advantage. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Only tired.” Her gaze flew over to Jason and Cait, heads leaned close at another table as they talked while Jason shoveled meat pie into his mouth. “We ate but a couple of hours ago.” She yawned, meeting his eyes. “We’re too far from Duncraven to travel there tonight in the darkness, I presume?”
“Aye. It’s a good day’s ride.”
“Then will we stay here?” she asked, the words threaded with husky curiosity.
Sweet Mary, she wanted to sleep with him. He could hear it in her honeyed voice, see it in her darkened green glance.
It was too good to be true.
“I’ve already taken a room,” he said, amazed at this new good fortune. He rose, nearly stumbling over his own feet. “Shall we go up?”
Thirty-One
TRICK STOPPEDonly for a stack of towels before he rushed Kendra to the room he’d rented. Once inside, he dropped them on the polished wood floor, paused a fleeting moment to set down the candle he was carrying, and dragged her into his arms.
His mouth on hers was hot and needy, and she responded in kind. She found it amazing how much she’d missed him. How much she’d missedthis.
His tongue swept into her mouth, meeting hers with a thrilling urgency. Craving his solid warmth, she plastered herself against his body, reveling in the heated kiss, his arms around her, the feel of his hard muscles against her softness.
A long time later they pulled apart, and she leaned back in his embrace, gazing up into his seductive amber eyes.
How could she have put him off so long? Just the scent of him made her head swim.
She swayed in his grasp.
“Are you too tired?” he asked.
She was exhausted, but, “God, no.”
His smile was blinding. “You missed me, aye?” Her heart flip-flopped at the sound of the low, throaty words, and when she nodded, he kissed her all over again, his mouth even more demanding, if that were possible.
Her breath was ragged by the time he stepped back. “You’re soaking,” he said.
Her gaze slid down his now-damp form, and her hands went to her drenched skirts. “I’m sorry.”
“I told you, I like you wet.” Lazy and persuasive, his grin seemed to touch a place inside her. A warm, melting place. “Come,leannan, let’s get you out of these clothes.”
She only nodded as, with practiced fingers, he detached the tabs on her stomacher and unlaced her bodice, then drew it down to her waist. His palms reached out and fitted themselves to her breasts. Puckering in response, her nipples strained against the thin fabric of her chemise.
He sucked in a breath. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this,” he said huskily.
A little mewling sound rose from her throat. She’d wanted him to touch her like this, too. He hadn’t done so since the night they were wed, and goodness, she’d craved his hands on her body.
If only she’d believed him when he’d said it wouldn’t hurt.
She licked her lips, and his eyes darkened. He bent his head, taking the peak of one breast in his mouth, suckling through her gossamer chemise. Her breath caught, and she plowed her fingers into his hair, holding him closer still.
