In his opinion, he’d achieved anything but enough. He should have guessed he was too optimistic when he imagined this would be simple.
He shifted to the side to rest on one elbow and stare down at her. Her thick black hair was ruffled, and her tight nipples pressed against her shirt. The memory of touching her there pounded through him like thunder.
By God, he was ready for her. Hard as a bloody caber at the Portree Highland Games.
“That was foolhardy.” Her gaze swept down his body. She’d see how excited he was, too. Under his kilt, he might have a chance of concealing his arousal. Trousers weren’t so forgiving.
“Perhaps.” He dug up a smile and smoothed the strands of midnight hair clinging to her wide forehead. “But I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you.”
The pleasure that brightened her face at his admission made him kiss her again. This time her push on his shoulders was more emphatic. “This won’t do, Mackinnon.”
“Fergus,” he said softly.
She pursed her lips in frustration. It made him want to kiss her again. “Safer to call you Mackinnon.”
“Who cares about safety?”
“I do.”
He traced a line down her cheek. Her skin was soft and smooth. He couldn’t wait to see the rest of it. Surely soon he would.
“Are you saying ye didn’t think about kissing me, too?” He’d thought about more than kissing, but didn’t want to push his luck.
She lifted a hand to bat his caressing fingers away. “You jolly well know I have. That doesn’t mean we should give into temptation.”
Lord above, she was pretty. Even when she was cross, she was pretty. Particularly then, because the heat sparking in those lustrous dark eyes made him think of a different heat that he and she could conjure together. “Why not? Do ye have a lover who owns your loyalty? You haven’t said so.”
“Why on earth would I say anything?”
Displeasure pricked at his arrogance. “Because you know I’m interested.” He paused and stared at her, surprised at how important her answer was. He’d wanted her before, but since kissing her, he was in a fever to have her. “Is there a lover, Marina?”
Her eyes flickered down. She had such lush eyelashes. “No,” she mumbled.
“Not for me either. And ye have no husband.”
“No.”
“And I have no wife. If we want one another, why should we resist?”
Her eyes opened and settled on him with a cynical light that placed another puncture in his satisfaction. Why didn’t he remember that talking to this perverse creature was sure to tie him into knots? He should have kept kissing her until she gave in.
“I’m available. You’re available. The nights are getting cold. We may as well start going at one another like rabbits?”
Hell, now he was annoyed, and he’d been in such a good mood after his nap and kissing her. He sat up and scowled. “You’re twisting my words.”
She sat up, too, and he regretted the foot of space stretching between them. She’d been so lovely and loose-limbed in his arms. Now as she pulled her knees up to her chest and curled her arms around them, she was closed up like a barricaded door. “Tell me what you want.”
You.
His exasperation couldn’t change that. In fact, every word she spoke stirred the urge to kiss that insolent mouth over and over until she gave up the fight.
“I want you to be my mistress,” he said baldly.
As he should have expected, the declaration sparked no excitement in that midnight gaze. She wasn’t the sort of lassie to swoon at hearing a man express his preference. “Because I’m an independent woman with no husband to control me, and therefore I share my favors with all and sundry?”
“Damn it, Marina, why do ye want to fight with me?” He ran an impatient hand through his hair. “You asked me a question, and I answered you. There’s no need to attack me. I’m not your enemy.”
Actually he had a suspicion she was crabby because she suffered the same sexual frustration he did. It didn’t contribute to an equable temper.