Page 40 of The Laird's Wicked Game

Rae had known why, although he’d steeled himself for her to decline him.

Over the past days, she’d been on edge in his company, often refusing to meet his eye when he sought her gaze out. In truth, he’d started to berate himself for making her so uncomfortable. This morning he’d awoken out of sorts. It was September the first, the beginning of autumn. If she didn’t seek him out to give him her answer, then he wouldn’t speak of his ‘game’ again.

Of course, he’d had a few days to regret his rash behavior. He’d hired Kylie to teach his sons, not warm his bed. She was a lady, not one of those lusty lasses atThe Barnacle.

He didn’t wish for the complication of a relationship, but he wanted Kylie, and the force of his longing for her made his gut ache, made his breathing grow shallow whenever she walked into a room. His appetite for food had lessened over the past few days as he’d waited for her answer, and when she’d asked to speak to him this morning, he’d started to sweat.

But she’d accepted.

All the same, he had to be certain that she didn’t feel coerced into this. “Are ye sure this is what ye truly want?” He asked, stepping close to her.

“Aye.” Her voice was husky now. “I have thought of little else these past days.”

Heat ignited in his belly at this admission, but even so, he persisted. “If ye feel uncomfortable and would rather I withdraw my proposal, I can. Yer position here isn’t in jeopardy … and it never will be.”

She inclined her head. “It sounds as ifyeare the one who’s had second thoughts?”

He huffed a laugh before moving closer still. They were near enough now that he could have reached out and drawn her into his arms. All the same, he restrained himself. Servants were due to appear at any moment to clear away the trenchers from the table behind them. He’d made the rules of this game clear, and he’d follow them. “No,” he said softly. “I just want to reassure myself that ye are a willing party.”

She lifted her chin, her luminous oak-colored eyes holding his. “I am.”

He smiled, even as his pulse started to hammer in his ears. “Tonight then?”

A tremor went through Kylie, her soft lips parting slightly. “Aye,” she whispered back. “When do ye wish me to come to ye?”

“Late,” he replied. “Wait until yer candle burns down … and knock on my door thrice.”

Kylie made her way down the stairs, padding softly in her slippers. It was indeed late. The candle in the lantern at her bedside had burned down to a melted stub. As soon as it had, she’d risen from her bed and thrown a woolen cloak about her shoulders, pulling up the hood. Then, tucking The Art of Coupling under her mantle, she slipped from her bedchamber.

There wasn’t likely to be anyone about at this hour. All the same, she glanced around her before heading down the shadowed hallway to the landing. The laird’s solar and bedchamber sat on the first floor of the broch. A door led between them, while two external doors faced the landing.

Stopping before the left one, Kylie inhaled deeply and straightened her spine—even as her heart thumped against her ribs.

Heavens, she was close to losing her nerve.

She’d hardly eaten anything at supper, for her stomach had closed, and had barely paid any attention to the conversation at the table around her. All she’d been able to think about was that in a few hours’ time, she’d be naked in the laird’s bed.

Excitement tightened her chest then, her breathing growing shallow. And when she lifted her hand to knock, she noted that it shook slightly.Clenching her fingers into a fist, she took a deep breath and knocked three times as Rae had instructed.

And then she waited.

A heartbeat passed, and then another, before the door swung open.

Rae Maclean stood there, clad in braies and a loosely tucked lèine. She’d expected to find him looking a bit rumpled and sleepy, yet he appeared as wide awake as she was.

Wordlessly, he stepped aside and gestured for her to enter, and Kylie did, before he closed the door behind her. She then pushed down the hood of her cloak, as he turned to her once more.

For a few moments, they merely stared at each other.

Kylie drank him in, noting the way his tunic was unlaced at the throat, revealing crisp whorls of auburn hair upon his chest. The soft glow of the hearth to his left kissed his skin, brought out the red in his hair, and darkened his green eyes.

Her pulse started to race once more. How she wanted to throw herself at him.

There was no doubt about it, the laird of Dounarwyse was a fine-looking man. He wasn’t classically handsome, not in the way his brother was, but there was an intensity to him, an undercurrent of sensuality, that made Kylie’s senses reel.

“Ye brought the book?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.

She cleared her throat before casting him a shy look under her eyelashes. “Aye.” She handed it to him. “Here ye are.”