Her jaw went slack at his words. It was all the things she had ever wanted: to be loved for who she was on the inside. Her heart thudded in her ears as the blood rushed through her veins, pushing hope and fear through her. He had to be deceiving her, but if he was not…?
She found her tongue with a will she did not know she possessed. He had given her pretty words. No, good God, they were magnificent words. She wanted to weep at the beauty of them, but they did not answer her question. She could not allow herself to be willfully blind. “And how did these things lead you to kiss another woman in a library?”
His mouth twisted, and his expression grew hard. “Because, Guin, I saw ye that night on the terrace with Kilgore. Ye were in his arms kissinghimjust as tonight—” Asher cursed and grew rigid. “He kissed ye.”
“Yes,” she said. “Just as tonight.”
“I am the biggest fool,” he replied.
His admission made her feel dizzy and discomfited. And…and hopeful. Blast him. “You must have left the terrace before I pulled away. Kilgore kissed me without my permission, but can you say the same? Was it Elizabeth who kissed you?”
“Aye.”
Guinevere’s hope soared.
“But—”
“Why must there be abut?” she wailed, forgetting to keep her voice low. She wanted to pummel his chest and knock sense into his male Scot’s brain. “But you kissed her back because she was too tempting to resist?” she flung out, flailing her arms like a wild woman. Her pulse strummed in a whizzing fashion.
He’d done this to her! He’d stolen her heart, then broken it. Then she’d tried to repair it—or rather fortify it—only to have him stroll back into her life and force her to confront how her heart still beat for him as it never had for another. He’d stuffed her full of hope to yank it away again.
He captured her wrists with his hands and brought her palms against his chest. His heart hammered into her skin, and her eyes went wide. By heaven, he was as wildly affected in this moment as she was.
“But,”he said slowly, “Elizabeth told me that ye had always wanted Kilgore and were merely using me to make him jealous.”
Guinevere’s lips parted at the revelation.
“And then she kissed me. I’m a damn fool, as I said. Undoubtedly one of the biggest ones who has ever lived because, in that moment, I was furious and wanted to strike back at ye, so I did not push her away immediately. By the time I did, the library door had opened and we were caught. My pride cost me everything. It cost me ye.”
“I want to believe you,” she said, meaning it. In fact, she wanted to profess her love and throw herself into his arms, but she was afraid.
“Then believe this, Guin,” he said, tugging her fully to him to crush his mouth to hers.
His tongue pressed against the crease of her mouth, and she opened for him with a groan of all the longing she had repressed for the past five years. He tasted of the whisky he’d been drinking, smoky and spicy with hints of lemon and vanilla. It was heaven.Hewas heaven.
Desire sprang forth hot and unstoppable, and she was helpless to resist. His nearness was overwhelming. Her need was overwhelming. Her hope that they might have the love she once thought possible was overwhelming. There was no past between them in this moment. No betrayals or jealousy.
He pulled back, leaving her breathless, and he cupped her face. “Tell me ye want me.”
“I do, I do,” she said, kissing him. “I want you.”
She didn’t care that she’d relented. They were to be wed, and she wanted her marriage to start in peace not war. She wanted love. He had been the one man she had ever believed truly wanted her for who she really was, and she would embrace anew the hope that they could have something wonderful.
He groaned, and then his lips captured hers in a kiss that burned with possession. He caressed her mouth as his hands moved softly over her hips to skim her waist and then settled on her breasts. Immediately, they grew heavy and taut, and deep in her belly, all the way to her core, her body tightened and an ache sprang forth.
He caught her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed gently while circling them. The friction was delicious and sweet torture. She arched toward him, rubbing her hips against him and feeling the proof of his own need for her. Her hands came to his shoulders, and she gripped him, nails meeting flesh.
He pulled back, panting, and stared at her. “I want to make ye mine right now, Guinevere, but—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Never say that word again. I despise it.”
“Ah,mo ghraidh, I will never say it again.”
“What doesmo ghraidhmean?” she asked as he brushed her hair away from her neck to trail feathery kisses down her burning skin.
He answered between kisses. “I. Will. Tell. Ye. One. Day. But not today.”
She would have protested, but his finger slipped under the top edge of her nightgown and the cool night air swept over her skin. Gooseflesh covered her breasts. She should be scandalized, should most certainly protest, but she wasn’t and she didn’t. She had fully exposed herself, set her heart in his hands once more. She prayed he would be careful with it.
