Charming The Highlander

He suddenly sighed and laid his forehead on hers.

“Now what’s the matter, lass? You’re looking as if the weight of the world just dropped on your shoulders. Are ya embarrassed?”

Grace quickly grabbed the excuse he gave her. “Yes,” she blatantly lied. “Father Daar’s going to have me kneeling in a corner for nine days.”

“Nay,” he growled through a chuckle. “I have some influence with the old priest. I’ll not let him set a nine-day penance for ya.” He leaned back and gri

“Change my ways?”

“Aye,” he said with a nod, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re a passionate woman, Grace Sutter, and I’m thinking ya need taming.”

“By a priest?”

“Nay,” he whispered, lowering his head. “By me, lass,” he breathed into her mouth, covering her lips with his.

And quietly, slowly, the storm of passion returned. Grey trailed kisses down the column of her throat, and Grace tilted her head back to give him better access. One by one, he undid the buttons on her blouse, then slowly pushed back the cloth to expose her.

The warmth of his breath caressed her naked skin, followed closely by the heat of his mouth. Grace cupped his head and guided his exploration, whimpering when he found just the right spot and mewling when he moved to another.

“Yar skin is like cream,” he said with appreciation, his tongue coaxing a shuddering response from her.

“So soft. So supple,” he continued between lavishing, savoring licks that slowly trailed down from her chest to her stomach. “And so very responsive,” he finished, nipping her lightly where her skin stopped and her pants began.

Her head thrown back on a pleasured moan, Grace felt her pants being unsnapped just before Grey’s mouth continued its journey. As his head moved lower, her hips were exposed, and then she felt her pants slide off and heard them fall to the floor.

Warm fingers, feeling like fairy kisses, trailed up her legs and came to rest on the downy-soft hair at the juncture of her thighs. Grace sat up, reaching to cup his face, and Grey moved back to her, sealing their lips in a searing kiss.

His hand, however, remained behind and continued to drive her to distraction with incredibly gentle but maddening caresses.

Grace lifted her hips as she pushed at the waistband of his pants. But he would not be distracted. Or hurried. In fact, it was as if time stood still for them. The world receded. Colors faded, blending into a glow of brilliant white.

Only Grey remained in focus for her. The look of his eyes filled with passion was forever burned in her brain. With her own eyes closed, she could see him perfectly, feel what he was doing to her, and she prayed that he didn’t stop.

His mouth started its journey down her body again, and Grace could only helplessly, and eagerly, anticipate where he would touch her next.

And then it came—that hot, wet, and most intimate kiss. Grace bucked against him, and he held her hips and used his tongue to send her over the edge.

She tightened, spiraling upward, keening her pleasure aloud. And then Grey was there, kissing her face, her neck, and finally settling back over her mouth. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing across her sensitive nipples. He entered her slowly, pulling back and then pushing just a little bit deeper in an unhurried rhythm that sent her spiraling again.

His tongue made love to her mouth, and Grace could only cling to him as brilliant flashes went off in her head. She reached down and grabbed his hips, pulling him even more deeply inside her.

His hard, overheated body drove against her again and again, and Grace gloried in the strength of his response to her own pleasure. He reared up suddenly, deeply sheathed inside her, threw back his head, and let out a growl that echoed off the high ceiling.

Grace stroked his arms and shoulders and ran her hands over his chest. And when he lowered himself to his elbows and kissed her, she ran her fingers through his damp hair and savored the taste of their lingering passion.

“I’m thinking I can talk Daar into only one day,” he whispered past a lazy smile, moving to lie beside her.

“And if I find ya in my bed tonight, I might even talk him into letting me work out your penance.”

Grace was too spent to rally a response. She was more inclined to cuddle against him and go to sleep.

She yawned, rather loudly, wrapped her arm around his waist, and settled her head on his shoulder.

He shrugged, disturbing her contentment. “Hey. You have a ski lift to save,” he reminded her. “And a boss to get rid of.”

Grace lifted her head and tried to work up enough energy to glare at him. “They’ve both lasted this long, they can last a few more minutes. Or didn’t you know that a woman needs cuddle time after, just as much as she needs foreplay?”

“Cuddle time?” He choked on a chuckle, relaxing back against the bed and gathering her tightly against him.

The sound of a child fussing came from the baby monitor by the side of the bed. Grace let out a groan and tried to sit up.

“I have to go to him,” she said when Grey wouldn’t let her.

He merely cocked his ear to the sounds of Baby demanding attention. “Wait,” he said. “Somebody will get him.”

It was Ian they heard coming into the room, talking to the child in a voice that was barely recognizable.

“Ah, wee one,” Ian said with a sing-song lilt. “Are ya feeling abandoned? Come to your new uncle, little bairn,” he continued.

Grace listened to the rustle of Baby being picked up.

“There now,” Ian said. “You come with me. I’ll fill that tiny belly of yours. And I’ll change that uncomfortable nappy while we’re at it.”

Grace turned a horrified look on Grey as a thought struck her. What would Ian think of Baby if he knew who his father was?

As if he could read her mind, Grey slowly shook his head. “He’ll never know, Grace. Unless you tell him, he will not know.”

“What…what would he do?”

“To the babe?” he asked, leaning back in surprise. “Nothing. Ian’s not a cruel man. But I would just as soon he not have that kind of weapon against MacBain.”

“As you do? It was Ian’s daughter who died, and your…your fiancée,” she said, almost choking on the word. Child-bride would be more appropriate. She met his penetrating stare with a defiant lift of her chin.

“Ah, Grace,” he finally said. “You’re going to make me pay for that supposed sin for a long time, aren’t you?”

She wiggled to see if he would let her up.

Surprisingly, he did. He climbed off the bed, leaving his sword lying beside her. Grace stood up, pulling the sheet with her, wrapping it around her like a cloak. She then took hold of the sword. She couldn’t lift it, so she dragged it across the bed. And as she had guessed, once she stood it on the floor, her hands were even with her chin. It was as tall as she was.

“Well, you don’t ever have to worry I’ll use this on you,” she said, using both hands to try to hold it up like a weapon.

“Wee blessings,” he agreed, taking it from her just as she was about to drop it on her bare toes.

He hefted it with his right hand and held it up without the least bit of effort, saluting her by bringing it to his forehead and bowing.

“Your full accent is back,” she said.

He placed the sword over the arms of the chair. “I’m comfortable with you, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I need not guard my words.”

Grace went weak in the knees. There wasn’t another thing this man could have said that would have tugged at her heart strings more profoundly.

Grey was comfortable with her, like warm slippers on a cold winter night, like hot cocoa in front of a fire, like loafing in bed all day on Sunday reading the papers. She liked the thought of everyday life with Grey.