Page 41 of The Laird's Wicked Game
He took it, and his lips curved into a slow smile that lifted years from his face. “Have ye read it?”
She nodded. Aye, she had. Thoroughly. In truth, some of the acts described in here were far too adventurous for her. Some of them had made her blush up to her hairline, while others made her curious.
Rae moved back from her then and set the volume upon the edge of the large canopied bed that dominated the chamber. Upon entering, Kylie’s attention had been so fixed upon the laird that she hadn’t taken the time to observe her surroundings. However, she did so now. The chamber was comfortably furnished with sheepskins upon the floor. A large tapestry, depicting a bucolic scene of fields against the backdrop of mountains, dominated one wall, while a large hearth burned opposite the bed.
Storm sat by the fire, scratching under his chin with his back paw.
Rae’s gaze traveled to his dog before he gave a low whistle and headed to the door that led through to his solar. “Come on, lad … ye can sleep next door tonight.”
The collie gave him an affronted look.
“Off ye go.” Rae opened the door and gestured.
Slowly, Storm rose to his feet. He then padded through into the solar, head low, tail down.
“I think he’s taken offense,” Kylie noted, smiling despite the nerves that now fluttered like moths in her belly.
Rae gave a soft snort. “That’s because I indulge him too much.” He closed the door firmly behind the collie. “However, having my dog watching me bed ye will put me off.”
Kylie giggled at this. She couldn’t help it. The relationship between the laird and his Highland collie could be a comical one, and it eased the tension in the bedchamber just a little. Still smiling, she removed her cloak and hung it up by the door.
And when she turned to face Rae once more, she found him watching her intently. And the naked desire in his eyes made her knees weaken.
Of course, she looked far different from usual. Her hair, while not unbound, was braided loosely down her back. It wasn’t coiled tightly around the crown of her head or above each ear like during the day. And instead of a high-collared surcote over a kirtle, she wore nothing but a linen night-rail.
Rae’s throat bobbed as he raked his gaze down the length of her.
The heat in his eyes made her feel as if she’d burst into flames at any moment.
His lips parted then, and she glanced down to see that her breasts—unrestricted by clothing and swollen with arousal—thrust against the thin material. The man would have been blind not to see her peaked nipples.
“Ye are so bonnie,” he said huskily.
She swallowed, dizziness sweeping over her. If he kept looking at her like that, she’d soon be on her knees, begging him to take her. “What happens now?” she whispered.
“Now, ye choose a chapter, and we shall follow its instructions.”
Kylie’s pulse fluttered in her throat.
His lips tugged up at the corners once more, even as his gaze remained limpid. “Aye, lass … I want ye to decide what we do, remember?”
A moment passed, and then she moved to the large bed and picked up the book.
After reading it numerous times over the previous day, she knew exactly which chapter she wished to begin with. Nonetheless, she didn’t want him to think she’d given this a lot of thought, and so she took her time leafing through the pages before handing the open book to him. “This one.”
Rae scanned his gaze down the page, and she watched his pupils flare wide, even as his body stilled. “Aye,” he said, his voice tight with anticipation. “This is perfect.”
16: FOLLOWING INSTRUCTIONS
RAE GLANCED UP, focusing on her once more, his lips quirking. “Shall I undress ye first?”
“No,” she murmured, her voice catching as nerves got the better of her. And with that, before she lost her courage altogether, she stepped close to him, tugging his lèine from his braies.
Rae’s smile widened, and he set the book down on the bed once more. He then caught the hem of his lèine and pulled the tunic over his head in one fluid movement.
Breathing shallowly now, Kylie raised a hand and trailed her fingertips down, from his collar bone—over the hard planes of his chest, and over the crisp curls of hair that covered it—to his belly. She halted at the waistband of his braies then before beginning to unlace them.
Curse her trembling hands, she wasn’t doing this gracefully. Of course, the last time she’d been intimate with a man was with Errol. Even though it had been a long while, this felt strange—illicit.