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Her expression turned serious. “When one balances on a few inches of crumbling ledge, one’s mind becomes surprisingly clear.”

It would be so easy to take this as an invitation and rush in. He’d learned over the last days to wait until he was certain. “Aye?”

“Thoughts of snatching opportunities, and how risks can lead to rewards.”

Now, this sounded promising. Very promising indeed.

He spread his hands. “Marina, my darling, if you’ve changed your mind about an affair, ye need to tell me straight out. I can’t risk any more mistakes with you. My heart won’t bear it.”

Impatience firmed her lips. “Must I say it?”

“For God’s sake, if you want me, say so.” His voice roughened as agonizing hope lodged like a jagged rock in his throat.

Her dark eyes settled on his face. “I want you, Mackinnon.”

He didn’t take her in his arms, although the effort of holding back almost killed him. “And that means?”

Her lips curved in a beguiling smile. “It means you’ve won yourself a mistress, my braw Highland laddie.”

“Marina…” he said, surging forward until to his astonishment, she placed a hand on his chest. “Not here.”

“What the devil?”

Surely to God she wasn’t still teasing him. Not now. Not after what she’d just said.

She tipped her head toward the castle gate. “We’ve got an audience.”

Fergus glanced back and saw a huddle of figures in the shadows. Jock’s bulk was unmistakable, and he guessed Kirsty and Jenny were there, too.

“Hell, you’re right.” He caught her hand in a forceful grip. “Would you like to see the view from the point?”

Her low laugh ripped through him like fire. “More than I can say.”

“Then come with me. And don’t dawdle, mo chridhe.”

* * *

With a speed that left her breathless, Fergus whisked Marina out of direct view of the castle. Or perhaps that was excitement and anticipation—and still a few nerves about what she’d agreed to. No matter that she told herself she’d cast her bonnet over a windmill, and it was too late for second thoughts.

He drew her into the shadows under a stand of Scots pines and glanced over his shoulder. “No watching eyes.”

Warmth filled her. She was right to trust him with her reputation.

“Kiss me, Fergus,” she said, no longer trying to conceal her yearning, a yearning that had eaten her alive for days. Today’s interrupted kiss had only stoked her hunger. “Kiss me before I die of wanting you.”

“Oh, my lovely lassie…” he said in a vibrant tone, as he drew her gently into his arms.

Marina had expected him to overwhelm her with passion. She didn’t know what to do with this tenderness. It sought out the vulnerable spots in her soul that even now she fought to keep free of him.

This was the start of a short affair, not a lifelong commitment. When the liaison ended, she wanted to leave with a smile and a treasure chest of glorious memories. She didn’t want to take away a broken heart as well.

His lips met hers and swift pleasure chased away her last misgivings. She sighed in surrender and curved into him, twining her arms around his neck and opening her mouth to his ardent exploration.

Perhaps because she no longer held back, the kiss was extraordinary, moving from sweetness to demand in a flash. His hands ran down her back to cup her buttocks through her gown and bring her hard against his body. She gave a hungry whimper when she met his arousal, a blatant weight again

st the soft flesh of her stomach.

With a groan, he eased away. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. Although if we didn’t have an audience, I’d carry you away now and have my wicked way with ye.”


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical