He shook his head. “I know I starve for you.”
Her smile conveyed a great dollop of self-satisfaction. “That’s good.”
He nipped the side of her neck. “You’re enjoying this, you witch.”
She shivered under his teeth. “It’s rather nice to see you toppled off your high and mighty perch.”
He stared at her in frustration, starving for more kisses.
Fear sparked in her eyes. “Stand back,” she hissed, straightening.
It was pure luck that as Kirsty and Jenny approached the turn of the corridor, they were bickering. Hell. That was close. Fergus had been deaf to everything but his desire.
Before the maids came into sight, he stepped away from Marina with a bow. “Goodnight, signorina. I’ll see you early tomorrow.”
She performed a shaky curtsy. “Thank you for a delightful evening, Mackinnon.”
The girls passed with a couple of quick bobs and barely hidden curiosity. Their interest reminded him that much as he’d sell his soul for the chance to share Marina’s bed tonight, he owed her better than to sully her name. More, he’d given his word he wouldn’t.
“We’ll have privacy up on the hills,” he said, once he and Marina were alone again.
Another unimpressed glance. “I’m working tomorrow. I’ll thank you to resist any impulse toward flirtation.”
He almost kissed her for that piece of nonsense, but the girls had sharp ears, and they were only a closed door away. “We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will.” With that enigmatic statement, she slipped into her room and closed the door on him, leaving Fergus to his suffering.
Chapter Eleven
Marina spent a restless night. What little sleep she managed was disturbed by hot, wicked dreams of Fergus stripping her naked, setting her on a bed, and kissing her into a fever. Each time, though, she woke before consummation. Her sexual frustration followed her into her dreams, and the torment didn’t ease when she was awake.
Her eyes scratchy with tiredness, she now sat at her bedroom window watching the dawn rise over the hills behind the castle. Another fine day, when some craven part of
her wouldn’t mind an excuse to stay with her father. If only to put off her decision about becoming Fergus’s lover.
She supposed she could cancel the day’s painting, but Fergus would know why. Somehow admitting her weakness was worse than facing him.
Did she want a lover with whom she waged a continual battle for supremacy? Surely not.
Then she recalled the way she’d melted under those sweet kisses on the hillside. And the delicious conspiracy of kisses last night in the corridor, when discovery had come so close.
She loved her life, she loved her work. Nothing compared with the excitement she found in the Mackinnon’s arms.
Prudence insisted she leave Achnasheen. But could she relinquish this promise of passion?
Once more, when she went downstairs, Fergus waited in the courtyard. Those silvery eyes conducted a thorough inspection, and she was sure he noted the signs of sleeplessness and worry. “Are you ready for another day on the estate, lassie?”
She was ready for Achnasheen. She was far from ready for its master. Still, she nodded and summoned a smile. “I look forward to it.”
His hands didn’t linger at her waist as they had yesterday, but even the fleeting contact as he tossed her onto her pony turned her blood thick and sluggish with yearning. Nor did she mistake the heat in his eyes as he stared at her. Words jammed in her throat. This powerful reaction left her feeling raw and horrifyingly vulnerable. She wasn’t used to it, and she hated it.
Needing to get away, if only for a second, she clicked her tongue at the pony and headed out of the castle before Fergus mounted.
“You’re in a braw rush this morning,” he said, catching up and snatching her pony’s bridle to bring her to a stop. As light spread across the hillside, they sat facing one another like adversaries.
Marina bit her lip and tightened her grip on the reins, not that Fergus was going to let her go anywhere. And wasn’t that a large part of the problem? “I don’t think I can do this.”
A thorny silence descended, before he spoke slowly. “You’re not talking about the paintings.”