“Why cannae ye sleep?” he wondered aloud, swirling the yellow liquid in his glass, not taking his eyes off her even for a single second.
She sighed heavily before replying, “My thoughts won’t let me.”
“What is it ye are thinkin’ about in the wee hours of the night?” he asked, but this time, his question remained unanswered. In words, at least. Because her face took on a poppy red hue, while her gaze lowered all the way to the ground.
“Just… things,” she finally managed to utter, but that reply meant nothing. In fact, it only made him even more curious.
“Is the whiskey helpin’?” he asked mischievously, eyeing her glass, which was half-empty already, then her again.
“A little.” She smiled shyly, and he felt that surge of longing once again.
“Have ye ever ridden a horse while a little… blootered?”
“Blootered?” she asked, and he smiled at her.
“A little drunk, lass,” he explained, unable to stop grinning.
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s dangerous.”
He got up and slowly walked over to her. “Ye never do anythin’ dangerous?” he dared to ask, wondering what she would reply. He liked this game more and more.
“I do,” she snapped, tilting her head up as if to take a better look at him. “I’m here now, am I not? Is that not dangerous, to be alone with a man like you?”
His eyebrow rose again. “Aye. It is. Are ye not afraid?”
He took a step back, unable to take his eyes off her nightgown, which outlined her curves to perfection. He wondered how soft her skin would feel underneath his fingers, how fragrant if he inhaled the scent of her neck.
Defying him, she suddenly got up. Now, they were standing face to face, with neither willing to be the first one to look away.
“No,” she said, her nostrils flaring. “In fact, I want to do something dangerous… with you.”
He felt as if someone punched him, knocking all the air out of his lungs. These words were the last thing he had expected from this sweet little lady from London.
And now, he yearned to hear more. So much more. She was awakening a side of him that had been slumbering for far too long, and he liked it much more than he had thought he would.
“What would that be, lass?” he wondered, tempted to show her a few things he had in mind, with those luscious lips of hers dangerously close to his.
“I…” she spoke, her lower lip trembling so much that he wanted to kiss her gently, to pacify it, then to bite it tenderly and taste its sweetness with his tongue. “I want you to kiss me,” she finally admitted.
He smirked, enjoying every single moment of this, refusing to show even for a second how taken aback he was by the fact that this sweet little lass was turning out to be a real vixen.
“Oh, do ye, now? Well, if ye want me to kiss ye, ye have to do somethin’ for me as well.”
Her brow furrowed at his comment. “What?” she asked, not apprehensive at all, but rather curious.
“It’s only fair, dinnae ye think?”
He moved closer to her, pinning her with his gaze, but not touching her. Not yet. Although he was certain she wanted him to. Her body was calling out to his, and it took all of his conscious effort not to grab her by the shoulders and pull her so close to him that he would feel her chest pressed against his.
“What would you ask for?” she asked, and he noticed she was a little breathless. Good. He wanted her breathless. He wanted her mad with desire, just like he was at this moment.
He remained purposefully quiet for a few moments, locking eyes with her. “Stay with me.”
4
His words exploded in her mind, leaving room for nothing else. At first, she could not think clearly, let alone speak. She actually thought that she had not heard him well, or maybe he was jesting. It couldn’t be…
Asking her to stay with him, a complete stranger. She was asking for nothing more than a single kiss, one they could steal right then and there without anyone being none the wiser, but he was offering something else, something much more complicated that could have terrible consequences.
