Page 18 of Taken by the Heartless Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #2)

CHAPTER 18

Noah sat at his desk, staring gloomily out of his window and nursing a second glass of whiskey.

His chest had been aching damnably ever since he had left the children at dinner. The pain had increased steadily since he had sat down in his study. He was already exhausted from his day and from the training session with Scott and did not wish to rouse Callum for some sparring when it was already so late.

He rubbed absently at the spot where the pain was most acute and remembered what Keira had advised him to do.

Breathe as though ye are havin’ a bairn.

He scoffed. Perhaps those had not been her exact words, but it was close enough. He glared at the clouds scudding across the moon outside the window and counted slowly to ten. He could feel the tension building. He hadn’t had it this badly for a long while.

Despite his reluctance, and feeling somewhat foolish, he drew in a deep breath and let it out as slowly as he could. He repeated the action twice more and felt a little of the pain recede, but not by much.

“What else did the little witch suggest?” he muttered, staring into his glass as though it were a crystal ball that might depict the past for him.

They had been in his room, and she had been attending him. He had made a foolish comment about the coolness of her skin and massaged her hands because he could not bear to be separated from her for a moment longer.

He had only just stopped himself from begging her to touch him, imagining her cool hands brushing all over his skin as he pulled her into his lap and buried his face against her smooth neck.

He took a sip of the whisky and rubbed absently at his chest. The pain appeared to have relented a little. He frowned. She had told him to distract his mind, and clearly, thinking of her had helped more than deep breathing seemed to have done.

He looked at the door to ensure that it was shut and then leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

Alright, lass, ye want me to distract meself, I shall do it with pleasure.

He imagined Keira was in his study with him, her hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders, her dark eyes glaring at him through those thick black lashes. She was somewhat stern with him whenever she tended to him, and it always gave him a wicked thrill to defy her.

He imagined her leaning against the door, the shawl she had worn at dinner falling from her shoulders. She would seductively walk toward him. There would be no hesitation in her movements now as she rounded the desk, moving to straddle his lap in one swift movement. Her legs spreading open for him, their hips connecting as her hair fell against his face.

Noah groaned, feeling himself come to full hardness in seconds as he focused on the memory of her body against his, of her lips and tongue warring with his own as he had been able to touch her for the first time.

He had nearly lost control. It had taken all of his strength to pull back when he did, and even then, he had wanted her to follow through with her requests— take me as yer mistress.

How those words had haunted him over the intervening hours. To be given permission—nay asked—to take her for his own, when in the deepest part of his heart, that was all he desired. He was proud that he had stepped away from her when he did. He had been seconds from lowering her to the floor, stripping her bare and pushing home inside her.

A desperate sound erupted from the back of his throat as he thought of how she might have responded if he had just had the courage to do it. His hand moved beneath his kilt to his hard length, stroking himself as he let his head roll back, his mind clearing of all thought except her beautiful body.

He was jolted violently from his fantasies by the door to his study bursting open, and the object of his lustful daydreams suddenly standing before him.

“I came to check on ye me laird,” Keira stated clumsily as he stared at her, seemingly in shock. Perhaps I should have knocked first.

“Leave, lass,” MacAllen stated, his throat working as his eyes skimmed over her body. They did not quite return to her face, hovering somewhere beneath her chin.

“Why?” she asked frowning at him, “I only wish to help.”

His eyes were almost black now, and so full of lust she felt her breath catch in her lungs. His gaze ran over her again, as good as a caress and she trembled in the face of it.

She was suddenly aware that the borrowed dress from Fenella was at least two sizes too small and she moved her hands to cover herself, feeling on display under his dark stare.

“Tomorrow, ye and I will go shoppin’,” he said gruffly, finally dragging his gaze away from her dress.

“The maid who lent this to me is tiny,” she protested.

“I noticed,” Noah muttered and then he sighed, his left hand moving beneath the desk as though adjusting himself. “Since ye are so intent on stayin’, can ye at least explain what it is ye need?”

Giving up on shielding her body from view, she lowered her arms and took another step into the room. His eyes tracked her every movement.

“Did the chest pain return?” she asked, noticing the familiar hard line at the edge of his mouth. She was surprised at her reaction to his discomfort. She was desperate to attend to him and help him. It was no longer simply a matter of professional pride; she wanted him to think she was skilled. She wanted to wipe the tension from his face. The idea of him being in pain was unpleasant. She needed to fix it.

“Aye, it did, as a matter of fact,” he said. “And imaginin’ I was with child dinnae help,” he added scathingly.

Keira gave a surprised laugh as a smile spread over his lips.

“That wasnae quite what I said, me laird,” she cocked her head to one side. “And I realized somethin’ today.”

“Och aye? And what is that?”

“I dinnae ken yer name. I refuse to heal a man I dinnae ken,” she said boldly.

His eyes sparked with interest at her words, and he smiled—like a cat smiling at a mouse it intended to devour.

“Me name is Noah, lass,” he said quietly.

She felt a shiver of anticipation at the sound of it on his lips and she swallowed.

“Will ye be able to heal me now?” he asked in the same low, intimate tone.

“Aye,” she whispered as she watched him knock back the rest of his whisky in one swallow. “Did the breathin’ help a little at least?”

“Distraction worked better than breathin’,” he said, placing the glass on the desk and standing up. She was suddenly very aware that the last time they had been in this room together he’d had her pressed against the wall with his lips covering her own.

“What were ye thinkin’ about?” she asked, by way of a distraction.

MacAllen— Noah— came around the desk, his eyes piercing and intense, never leaving her face.

He took a step toward her, and she felt her own foot respond on instinct, taking a small step back. But he kept coming, looming above her as he advanced; a slow, sinful desire rising inside her that she was powerless to prevent.

Why does this man have to affect me so? He looks as powerful as a bear.

He was only inches from her body now, his hands oddly still as though he were preventing himself from grabbing a hold of her. She wished he would.

The look in his eyes was predatory. She felt like a deer at the end of his crossbow. She swallowed—his breathing was heavy and uneven as he watched her. “Do ye really want to ken?” his voice was rough with lust.

She felt a familiar blush rise in her cheeks. As she took another step back, the hard wood of a cabinet met her back, and she was trapped once more.

“I was imaginin’ ye, lass,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “I was picturin’ what ye might do if ye were here with me now, beggin’ me to take ye again.”

She let out a small gasp, her hands coming up to hold the edges of the cabinet, leaning back against it. He was so close now his chest brushed hers. She had a fierce desire to feel his hands on her again.

“I thought about ye comin’ in here, just as ye did. Ye would be me mistress then, and everythin’ I did to ye would be of me choosin’. Ye would have nay say,” his eyes roamed over her hair as he spoke. “Ye would just have to take it. Ye’d come to me, sit astride me, ride me until dawn.”

His voice was so low it was almost a croak, and his hands were suddenly on either side of hers, their faces inches apart.

“That’s what I was imaginin’ to distract meself, since ye ask. And now—here ye are.”

Keira was panting, her breasts rising and falling, the tight dress felt uncomfortable against her skin, gripping her in all the wrong places, threatening to burst open as she felt each panting breath leave her throat.

She shuddered, letting out a low moan as he lowered his head to her neck and placed a kiss against her skin.

She leaned her head back as he traveled up to her jaw, placing kisses against her skin. His tongue crept out, licking at her flesh as a full groan cut through the air between them. The point of his tongue at the edge of her neck was wickedly arousing. She could feel her nails digging into the wood behind her to prevent her from pulling his lips onto her own.

“Perhaps ye wish to seduce me again, lass,” he muttered, a low chuckle rumbling through him as he continued along her jaw.

But just like that, all of her desire fled as though it had never been.

How dare he? She thought, anger writhing within her at his words, it is all well and good for a laird to laugh at me when he has never in his life had to beg anyone for help.

He seemed to recognize the shift in her and he pulled away, confusion in his eyes as she glared at him.

“If—” she took in a deep breath, attempting to recover herself. “If ye think ye can mock me for a moment of desperation, then ye dinnae deserve me help,” she said, as she shoved at his arm—hard —forcing him to release her.

She moved past him, making to leave the room, but he lunged sideways as she opened the door.

Both his hands came up either side of her body. He slammed the door shut, crowding her against it so she had no choice but to turn, staring up at him in shock. She gave a low cry as his mouth lowered again, almost touching hers, their breaths mingling.

“Careful, lass,” he said slowly. “Ye owe me. Nae the other way around, remember?”

His eyes were still dark with lust; his pupils dilated and black against the coppery green of his eyes. She was aroused, flustered, and fighting her very self to stop what might occur between them—but she would not be laughed at. Not by any man.

“I’m healin’ ye. Just as ye asked me to do. I owe ye nothin’.”

At her words, he slowly pulled himself away from her. Yet as he did so, he ran his hands gently down her arms as though unable to stop touching her. She trembled, trying her best to resist the pull she felt toward him.

I willnae succumb to his charms. I willnae.

He ran his fingers lightly down her cheek. His eyes were softer now, and there was a warmth in them that made her heart flutter in her chest.

“Such fire,” he muttered. “Ye may be piecin’ me back together, but I believe ye will be me undoin’, Keira Young.”

Her eyes met his in a thrilling moment of connection, but before he could say more, she wrenched the door open and stormed from the room.