“We all do things we wish we hadn’t. You seem on good enough footing now.”
“I apologized and did my best to make things right by naming him war chief. At the time, he said he forgave me, but I’m nay so sure.”
“I’m sure he did. That’s what friends do.” With her thumb on the end of her strange quill, she made it click, then pinned it to the neckline of her gown by the sliver of metal attached to its side. She noticed his quizzical stare and gave a sad smile. “Habit. In my time, I kept it clipped to me for signing off on orders.” She twitched a slight shrug and looked aside as if lost in her memories. “My parents sent it to me when I graduated since they didn’t wish to interrupt their holiday in Sardinia to attend the ceremony.”
“Sardinia?” He wasn’t familiar with that place, and she graduated from what?
“On the Mediterranean.” She shooed away the subject with a wave of her hand. “Not important.”
He returned and knelt beside her. “Everything about ye is important. Never forget that.”
Blinking rapidly, she pressed her knuckles to her mouth, then reached out and held her hand to his cheek. “I shall be very cross with you if you continue to make me cry.”
“I dinna wish to make ye cry,” he said softly as he turned and kissed her palm. “I love ye, m’wee hen. More with each passing day.”
“Same,” she murmured. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she kissed him with an urgency that roared and set him on fire.
He yanked her tighter to his chest.
The kiss broke with her surprised squeak as the armless chair scooted out from under her, sending them both toppling to the floor.
“Oh, bollocks! Are you all right? You didn’t hit your head, did you?” Sprawled across him, elbows on either side of his head and her lovely bosoms almost touching his nose, she combed her fingers through his hair and gently felt his scalp. “I am so sorry. The chair just tipped out from under me.”
A deep, rumbling laugh escaped him. He couldn’t help it. Nuzzling his way inside the neckline of her chemise, he nibbled a kiss behind every word. “Dinna apologize, lass. More room on the floor. Ye taught me that on our wedding night. Remember?”
“You are incorrigible,” she murmured but cradled his head and encouraged his progress. “I don’t suppose you happened to lock the door, did you?”
He hadn’t and didn’t really wish to stop long enough to see to it now. “No one will bother us,” he promised between samplings of her sweetness.
She repositioned herself farther down his torso, took hold of his face, and pressed her forehead to his. “Are you certain your library…”
He interrupted her with a kiss and a not-so-subtle hiking up of her skirts. A sound of encouragement came from her, like the purring of Cook’s cat when given a saucer of cream.
“Well, perhaps just a quick one,” she said as she broke the kiss, slid her hand down between them, and undid the flap of his trews with ease. She gave him a wicked smile as she reached inside and stroked him. “I’m a quick study.”
“Ye are at that, m’love.” Hands on either side of her waist, he lifted her up, then set her back down, impaling her nicely. “Ye are at that,” he groaned as she settled into a rocking rhythm that took hold of him, body and soul.
“If you had locked the door, you could have bent me over the desk,” she said, riding harder and faster.
“A future endeavor,” he growled, then rolled her beneath him and pounded. This rare woman unleashed a fury within him he couldn’t nor wished to delay.
When she keened out her bliss, it finished him, making him shudder as he emptied into her. He held fast, an ecstatic prisoner of their mutual trembling and clenching. Completely spent, he collapsed atop her, the force of their joining leaving him barely conscious enough to brace so as not to crush her.
“Quinn!” Dugan shouted as he burst into the room. “Quinn! Where are ye? Are ye hurt?”
“Halt!” Quinn roared, doing his best to ensure Evie was properly covered. At least they were partially concealed behind the desk but wouldn’t be if Dugan came much closer. “Do not take another step.”
“I told you to lock the door,” she hissed, looking ready to kill him.
“Oh.” Dugan’s tone spoke volumes. The man understood completely what he had interrupted. “Forgive me,” he mumbled as he backed toward the door. “Heard noises of distress. Or so I thought.” As soon as he cleared the threshold, he slammed the door shut but called out from the other side, “I’ll stand guard here to ensure yer…well…I’ll stand guard.”
Evie rolled her eyes. “God help that poor man.”
“He needs a proper woman.” Quinn grinned down at her. “Like mine.”
“Next time, lock the door.” She shoved him. “Shall we make ourselves presentable? I’m sure he wasn’t coming to the library for a book.”
“I suppose we should,” he agreed with a sigh, making a mental note to speak with Mrs. Dingwall about thicker weavings to cover the floor. He stood and helped Evie to her feet, then arched a brow at her chest. “Uhm…ye’re a bit exposed, m’love.”
