Between mentally juggling duties of laird, race host, and spymaster and currently conningThe Briar, Rose shouldnotbe indulging in fantasies about Thorfinn, but her mind ... and body ... simply did not wish to cooperate. Trying once more to redirect her thoughts toward business, she said, “Think of visitors lounging in a garden—a drink of Frest Whiskey in their hands, wearing Widow Flett’s sweaters as they prepare to take a bird walk with Astrid before having a repast at the restaurant managed by Widow Craigie.”
“Widow Craigie’s cooking is the worst on the isle.” Thorfinn’s chest puffed out. Rose truly tried not to notice how the movement tightened the knit of his sweater even more, but she utterly failed to look away. It had been almost thirty-six hours since their kiss on the beach, and Rose still felt as primed as a well-tuned Mercer.
Rose forcibly dragged her gaze back to Thorfinn’s face and struggled to hold on to the gist of the conversation. “Widow Craigie’s skill in the kitchen is not the point.”
“If you’re wishing to start a pub, the quality of foodisthe point.” Thorfinn couldn’t quite manage to keep a straight face, revealing that even he realized the silliness of this particular objection. As his mouth curled at the edges, Rose’s stomach flip-flopped ... or maybe it was her heart. The man was as tempting as mulled wine on a frigid day. And maybe the best way to handle the distraction was to take a good long sip until she was satiated.
“What precisely don’t you like about my brainchild?” Rose gently sank her finger into his chest, finally giving in to the need to touch him. She might not be certain that he wasn’t a spy, but she had been planning on keeping her enemies close, after all.
“The fact that your idea involves toffs running amok.”
Thorfinn’s gaze seemed focused on her lips, and she wondered if he had difficulty concentrating too. Rose could hear her blood rushing through her ears, just like she did before the start of a big race. Entirely done with trying to suppress the surge, she leaned closer to him. “I’m a toff.”
“Aye.” He moved toward her, their gazes now intertwined.
She ran her fingers up his sweater. “Wouldn’t you like to seemerun amok?”
“Could be dangerous.” He trapped her palm against his chest.
Rose sucked in her breath at the feel of him—hard, indomitable, butnotentirely unyielding. “Good thing I don’t mind peril.”
Their lips met, and she felt like she’d depressed an accelerator connected to her heart. The darn organ nearly jumped from her body. This time she wasn’t interested in keeping the necking gentle. She wanted it hard and rough and most of all powerful. She slipped her tongue into Thorfinn’s mouth, tasting him. He groaned, and the guttural sound drove Rose to deepen the kiss. His fingers knocked off her beaver-fur cap and buried in her short hair. Slipping her palm from his chest, she gripped his back as she welded her body to his.
Frenetic energy pooled inside her. She’d never felt a need this strong, thisurgent. If Rose gave in to it completely, perhaps she could dampen its fearsome power and purge some of the want from her—just like how a good, fast ride expelled her demons.
“Rose.” Her name emerged from Thorfinn’s lips as a half prayer, half moan as he tore his mouth away from hers.
“Mmmm.” She nibbled at his neck, loving when his tendons went taut. She flicked her tongue against one, and his fingers pressed against the back of her skull.
“Rose.” Her name sounded even more hoarse.
She pressed her mouth against the hollow of his neck, and his body quivered. She smiled against his flesh. Before she could properly explore the sensitive spot, she found herself gently butunceremoniouslylifted from him.
His handsome facial muscles were strained, and red flags of color blazed over his sharp cheekbones. “Rose.” Her name was still more moan than word. “Someone could see us. We’re in full view of the cliff and Muckle Skaill.”
Rose merely smiled and undid the top toggle on her beaver-fur coat. “Might as well give the bird-watchers something interesting to watch.”
A choking sound emerged from Thorfinn, but Rose merely arched her brow. “I did warn you that I have a wicked reputation, dear heart.”
“But I don’t, lass,” Thorfinn whispered.
Realizing that Thorfinn did have a point, Rose sank back into her seat and gave him a rueful smile. “Is there any chance you could be persuaded to continue this somewhere more private?”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his left eye, looking both wicked and perhaps a tad bashful. “There ... there might be a sea cave nearby, lass, that’s big enough and deep enough forThe Briar.”
“Oh, might there be!” she teased. “Andmightyou also be able to direct me to it?”
“I could be convinced.” He settled back in his seat.
She feigned a pout worthy of Mary Pickford. “But you’ve taken away my best means of persuasion due to the possible presence ofbird-watchers.”
“Perhaps apromiseof a reward will entice me.”
“Oh, I can guarantee one.” Rose winked and placed her hand on the throttle. “Where to, Captain Cook?”
“Head to that crevasse in the cliff. See it? It’s to the right of the big sea stack,” Thorfinn said as he pointed out the way.
Rose nodded and started the engine. When she reached for the throttle, he laid his hand over hers.
