Page 12 of Lachlan in a Kilt

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"I had a date. He stood me up."

"The infamous Cliff."

"Yes." She clasps her hands on her lap. "When you showed up and knew my name, I assumed you were him."

"That does explain your obsession with the time." I feel my mouth turning down at one corner as I remember what sort of club that place had been. A woman like Erica doesn't belong there. I don't mean to squint at her, but I find I'm doing precisely that. "Did you have any idea what sort of club it was?"

"Yes. I've heard the rumors." Her gaze focused on the carpeting, she grips the sofa's edge. "People go there to find casual sex partners."

"Aye." The word comes out as half sigh and half growl. "You don't belong in that place, Erica."

She rolls her eyes up to scrutinize me. "Why were you there?"

How can I answer her question? I was there for the same reason as everyone in the club.

She keeps watching me, waiting for my response.

Bloody hell. I fidget and make a face that probably looks like I've sat on a sharp rock. "I wanted what the club has to offer."

Her lips crimp briefly, then she flops back against the sofa to wrap her arms around herself.

I wince a touch and scratch my own ear the way I'd scratched Casey's earlier. "It was a mistake. After you left, and I couldn't catch up to you, I went back into the club. Couldn't do it, though."

"Why not?"

"It's simple." I lean forward to trace a fingertip over the coffee table in slow figure-eights, my attention riveted to the movements so I can avoid looking at her. "None of those women measured up to you."

I swear I can feel her gaze on me, and it makes my skin itch. Why did I say that? I have nothing to offer Erica, nothing but pain she won't understand. I will never explain it to her. I want this bonnie, sweet lass to think of me as a strong, virile man, not…what I really am.

Her silence makes my skin itch even more, and I find myself lifting my gaze to hers. "You've enchanted me, Erica."

And it's true. Since the moment I first laid eyes on her yesterday, when she'd been tending her roses, I haven't been able to think about anything else for more than a few minutes at a time, often only a matter of seconds. No woman has ever affected me this way before.

She links her fingers over her belly and presses her knees together, her toes tapping furiously on the carpet.

I wonder if she has the same sort of fears that I battle every day. Might Erica Teague be a kindred spirit? Doesnae matter. I cannot get entangled in a relationship, with her or anyone.

But the anxiety on her face and in her posture makes me need to do something, anything, to soothe her.

I stride around the table, settle onto the sofa beside her, and take her hands in mine. Her palms are surprisingly cool. I raise a hand to cup her cheek and lift her face to mine, keeping my voice soft, though a strange longing creeps into my tone. "You are the loveliest thing I've ever laid eyes on. You're sexy without even trying to be. You made me laugh, and you kiss with all your heart and soul. You've got a passionate heart."

"I shouldn't have kissed you."

"Why not?" I brush my thumb across her bottom lip. "We want each other. No harm in it. We both went there for a fling."

"I couldn't go through with it."

"Not in those circumstances." I raise my free hand to her other cheek, bracketing her face with my palms. When she leans toward me a touch, her eyes shimmering with desire, I exhale a ragged breath. "I still want you. And the circumstances are very different today."

"Yes. Different." Her voice has become hushed and almost dreamy.

"I've tried relationships. Not interested in them anymore." My nose skims across hers while I spread my fingers over her cheeks and glide them down to her throat. I cannae think, not with her body so close to mine and the scent of her overpowering my senses—and my good sense. "I'm here for four weeks. I've nothing more to give. But I do want you, even more today than last night."

"Mmm."

Did I just suggest a casual fling? For four weeks? I shouldn't do it, shouldn't want to do it, but I'm entranced by Erica and her sensual body. What harm could a month of sex do? As long as I make the parameters clear.

No, ye dafty, no.


Tags: Anna Durand The Ballachulish Trilogy Erotic