Her remarkable eyes darkened as she studied him. "I’ll miss ye, too." Before he could identify the emotion thickening her voice, she went on quickly and in a more cheerful tone. "Ye fitted in so well with everyone on the island."
Is that all? Dougal wanted to ask the question, but this time discretion won out and he returned to finishing his task. The early winter evening drew in, and the light in the hull was bad. But he had a nasty suspicion that wasn’t why he had trouble seeing what he needed to fix.
"Should I light the candles?" She was still too close behind him.
He set down the hammer and turned to face her. "No, I’ve finished. I want to…"
Damn it, she was even closer than he’d thought. Mere inches separated them. He sucked in a jagged breath, and his head flooded with the evocative scent of Kirsty. Crushed wildflowers. Warm female. A hint of the fresh salt air that always seem to swirl around her, so she became part of the wild sea and sky, here on her beautiful island.
"Ye want to…" she echoed, leaning closer.
Dougal swallowed to loosen a tight throat, as his heart leaped around in his chest like a grasshopper.
"I want to…" He sounded strangled. His hands formed fists at his sides, and his head swam with a hundred impossible longings.
I want to take ye in my arms.
I want to kiss ye.
I want to steal ye away across the waves and take you back to Bruard.
I want to…
He couldn’t speak any of those forbidden wishes aloud, but as Kirsty stared at him, her eyes widened as if she heard the words anyway.
"Aye?" she whispered. Although there was nobody but him to hear. Even the old men who sat outside the inn had packed up and returned to their own firesides an hour ago.
The day was nearly done. Dougal had one more night on Askaval before he left forever.
That had been his aim since he arrived. Why now did that seem a punishment worse than death?
Kirsty’s lips parted. Those full, red lips that in his profane dreams, kissed him over and over. He caught a glimpse of straight small teeth in the dark interior. The silvery eyes turned as soft and misty as the fog that swept in from the sea.
"Kirsty?" he forced out in a choked voice and realized he’d shifted even nearer.
"Aye?" she said again, gazing unblinking into his eyes.
"Oh, hell," he muttered and reached out to catch her upper arms in shaking hands. For one blazing, lost moment, he stared into that unforgettable face.
Then God help him, he kissed her.
Chapter 7
Kirsty’s gasp of shock turned into a long, shuddering sigh of pleasure. She leaned in
and surrendered to the kiss. Dougal’s arms encircled her, and her heart crashed against her ribs then set off on an excited race. He made a low sound of appreciation against her lips and lashed his arms more tightly around her, hauling her close into his body.
More heat. More excitement. She felt like her bones dissolved into hot honey, and she pressed against him, desperate for more. Desperate for this never to finish.
For days, his tangy masculine scent had tormented her, had wafted through her dreams. Now his scent turned into the air she breathed.
Instinctively she parted her lips, wanting more of his delicious taste. Another of those wordless mutters of encouragement. Then shockingly, delightfully, she felt his tongue slip through into her mouth. A muffled sound of surprise escaped her, even as she fluttered her tongue against his. The game turned rapturous.
This eager, rapacious meeting of mouths made her quake and crave. A deep pulse of desire started to throb between her legs, and a great hot weight of arousal settled in the pit of her stomach. She’d never felt like this before. And still his mouth plundered hers, claiming her as his.
By the time he drew away, her head was swimming from lack of air and the swift onslaught of overwhelming need. Her knees felt like wet wool, and her heart galloped faster than a wild horse. His powerful and tender hands around her upper arms were all that kept her upright. In these days hungering after Dougal, she hadn’t until now recognized that love could be so carnal.
"Kirsty…"