Charlie met his gaze. Anger and frustration swirled through her veins. Anger with MacAllister. Frustration with Niall for being unwilling to act.
Ye have a choice coming, my dear. A choice that will decide the story ye write.
Hadn’t Niall said that Irene had brought her here for a reason? Well, what if this was it? What if stopping MacAllister was the reason she was here? What if choosing to stand against MacAllister was the choice Irene had been referring to?
Niall was staring at her. His grip tightened on her shoulders. “I canna stomach the thought of ye getting hurt, Charlotte,” he said. “And I canna do my job properly if I am constantly worrying about ye. Promise me ye willnae go near Boyd MacAllister.”
Charlie sighed. “All right. I promise.”
His breath left him in a rush, his shoulders sagging. “Good.”
She expected him to release her and move away, but he didn’t. He kept one hand resting on her shoulder while the other moved up to cup her face. His palm was rough, the palm of a man used to physical labor rather than the smooth skin of a nobleman—but it sent a tingle right through her all the same. She found her heartbeat increasing a little and she couldn’t help leaning into that touch.
“I need ye to be safe, Charlotte,” he said softly. “If anything should happen to ye... Dear God, I dinna think I could handle it.”
It was there again, that look in his eyes that was full of longing. The look that sent delicious shivers all through her body. Before she knew it, she was stepping into him, going up on tiptoes, and kissing him.
It took him less than a heartbeat to respond. As her lips pressed against his, his hands swept down to the small of her back and pulled her against him. Suddenly they were kissing desperately, furiously, all restraint gone.
Charlie’s thoughts shattered into fragments and were blown away by the all-consuming heat that rampaged from the crown of her head down to the hot ache that lit between her thighs. Throwing her arms around his neck, she tangled her fingers in his thick, luscious hair as their kiss deepened, their tongues sliding and dancing together, their breathing turning hot and rapid.
Oh God, how she’d wanted this!
His grip on her tightened and she found herself pressed against him, the hardness of his desire pushing against her stomach. The feel of it deepened that hot ache between her thighs. She could think of nothing else but having his hot skin on hers, having his weight on top of her, having him inside her, right now...
“Wait,” Niall said, breaking the kiss. He pulled away, his breathing heavy, his cheeks flushed. “This is a bad idea.”
“Is it?” Charlie replied breathlessly. “It seems like a pretty good idea to me. Didn’t you say you wouldn’t mind the gossip about us if it were true?”
He groaned. “Dinna say that. God in Heaven, lass, ye have no idea how much I wish it was true. Ye have no idea how much I want to lay ye down and take ye right now.”
His words sent a thrill right through her. It was reckless beyond reason to be doing this now, here, in the stable where anyone could walk in and see them. But Charlie was beyond reckless. The feel of Niall’s hands on her body, his lips on hers, sent all rational thought skittering, leaving her only with a breathless, heedless need.
It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.
“Then what are you waiting for?” she said, her voice husky.
His eyes flashed, dark with lust, and he trembled as though struggling to hold himself back. “I canna.Wecanna. I willnae ruin yer reputation.”
“I don’t care about my reputation.”
“But I do!” With a visible effort, he stepped back, putting some space between them.
It was like being doused with cold water. The hot ache between her thighs didn’t lessen but now it was tempered by the cold shock of rejection.
She backed up a step. “I...um...I’d better get back to the pottery.”
Before he could say a word, she turned and fled.
