More…
More led her onto forbidden paths. Even through the fog of carnal sensation, Elspeth retained just enough connection with reality to know that this passionate kiss swept her over the edge of safety and into perilous territory indeed. Which didn’t stop her from giving a faint whimper of disappointment, when she pulled back from the radiant darkness of his kiss.
His hands tightened, then she was free. But her knees threatened to fold beneath her, and she staggered. The cold of the snow seeped up through her half-boots as she slipped on the icy ground.
“God help me,” he muttered. He caught her by the waist, saving her from a fall. When she met his fierce green eyes, she knew he meant to kiss her again.
“No, Brody,” Elspeth said shakily and placed an equally shaky hand on his powerful chest.
He was wearing English riding clothes, instead of his kilt. Through black superfine, the heat of his body radiated out to warm her gloved palm. On this freezing day, the temptation to snuggle up against him and bask like a cat in front of a fire was near overwhelming.
But she wasn’t quite as innocent as she’d been last night when he kissed her. To her regret, she knew that any basking promised more trouble than she was capable of handling.
“I know. We’re in the middle of a snowy hillside, and most of your family is just over the brae.” Brody looked sheepish and disappointed, and devilishly charming, with a lock of black hair tumbling over his forehead. Some reckless part of her wanted to beg him to kiss her again. To Hades with consequences. “I took things too far. Next time we do this, we should be inside.”
She released a choked laugh. “It would be altogether wiser if we don’t do this again.”
His expressive black brows contracted, and he surveyed her down that lordly nose. “You dinnae mean that.”
“I should.” She’d hoped he understood that their flirtation was a mere diversion, but the passion brimming in that kiss made her wonder if she needed to set out some rules. “Brody, I’m not…”
The fond smile that twisted his lips only made him more charming. She fought against the premonition that she was doomed to fall under his spell again.
No, never. What on earth was she saying? Elspeth refused to confuse a few kisses with lifelong devotion. She shuddered at the thought of changing back into that soggy creature who sighed at the merest sight of him. This Christmas, flirting with Brody was fun and a sop to vanity bruised too often and too hard. It wasn’t a gateway to anything permanent.
“You’re saying that you’re no’ setting up to become my mistress.”
Flooding relief set her knees wobbling again. He did understand. “That is what I’m saying.”
“I have some principles.” He gave a grunt of wry amusement. “Anyway, Hamish would have my guts for garters if I seduced his sister.”
“He would.” She paused. “Not to mention that the sister might have a few objections of her own.”
That statement was pure bravado. This far, he’d treated the attraction between them lightly. She had a grim feeling that if ever Brody went after her with real intent, she’d melt like butter in the sun. Her virtue, hitherto an unthinking pillar of her existence, wouldn’t survive past the first five minutes.
He paused, as if bracing himself to say something momentous. Although she couldn’t imagine what that might be. Brody Girvan didn’t deal in momentous statements. Yet another reason why her daydreams of declarations of undying love had been fatuous. Brody liked to skate across the surface of life. Which made him an ideal candidate for a girl testing her wings with a man for the first time.
Or at least so Elspeth had believed, until today’s kiss flared into a hunger that both frightened and intrigued her.
“There you are. Why are you two hiding over here?”
Hamish’s cheerful voice sliced through the portentous atmosphere building between Elspeth and Brody the way a knife cut through rope. Brody stepped away from her and turned to face her brother. “Elspeth wanted to see the Cuillins.”
Hamish cantered up to them on a fine chestnut gelding. “You can’t see the Cuillins from here. You need to go up the next hill.”
Elspeth plastered a smile to her face and prayed she didn’t look as disheveled as she felt. “I thought my horse was lame, so we stopped to check. It turns out she’s fine.”
Had she ever lied to Hamish before? She didn’t think so. Already Brody had a deleterious effect on her morals.
Hamish shot a meaningful and not entirely friendly glance at Brody. Oh, dear, perhaps she did look as rumpled as she feared. How embarrassing.
“Is that so?” Hamish didn’t wait for a response. “Everyone’s going back to the castle for mulled wine and carols from the crofters. Are you coming?”
“Of course,” Brody responded with an ease that she resented, however unreasonable that might be. His smooth manner was an unpleasant reminder that romantic intrigues were bread and butter to him. Elspeth Douglas was just one more lady on a long list. There would be plenty of conquests to follow her.
When he caught her waist, she couldn’t help stiffening.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.