MacLarens of Balmorie 05 - Once Upon A Time In Scotland (16 page)

“Well, it was more like run a little, jog a little more, walk a lot, run a little, jog a.... Yeah.”

Frowning now, he reached outside, grabbed her arm, and pulled her inside. “Look, if you have company, I can come back—”

“Hush,” he silenced her, his face screwed into a fierce, disbelieving frown as he tucked the sheet around him, freeing up his hands to unzip her raincoat. “What were ye thinking?” he pulled the thing off with a jerk. “Toe off
yer
shoes.” She did as she was told, then he bent down and pulled off her soaking wet socks. His sheet dropped and she had to hold onto his shoulder for support and look at the ceiling.

“Ye ken how bloody dangerous that was?” Apparently, his brogue deepened when he was angry. He grabbed his sheet and straightened. “Stay here.”

He stalked away, leaving her blinking in confusion, though it didn't take long for indignation to take over. Stay there, her ass. Had her socks and shoes been on her feet, she would've turned around and left. Ungrateful jerk. She hadn't come all this way to be scolded like a child.

Liam returned in low slung pajama pants and carrying a folded towel and clothes.

Oh.

She hadn't taken the time to really appreciate his state of undress... She'd imagined him shirtless countless times, but apparently her imagination was failing her because it hadn't even come close to the real thing. Broad shoulders, hard, defined muscle, flat abs, and a small trail of hair leading beneath his waistband...

He set the clothes on the table by the door and then fisted the bottom of her shirt. “Arms up.” She listened without thinking. Her wet shirt went over her head and he tossed it onto the floor with her raincoat. Next he grabbed the waistband to her pants.

“Wait—”

“You're freezing cold, shaking, and
yer
lips are blue. The wet clothes are coming off, then you're going
ta
take a hot shower, dress, and tell me what the hell was so bloody important that ye risked hypothermia
ta
go out on a night like this with no bloody protection.”

Angry brogue again.

“Well, I had a raincoat. And it's not like it's winter. I don't think hypothermia can--”

He rolled his eyes. “You're in Scotland. Look it up.”

As she stood there shaking from cold, he crossed his arms over his chest and lifted an eyebrow.

“Fine. Mr. Arctic Warfare. I can do it myself.”

With trembling hands, she rolled off her wet yoga pants. When she rose, Liam was there in front of her pulling a large T-shirt over her head before taking her hand and leading her upstairs.

She went a few steps before stopping, pulling against his grip.

This was going all wrong.

She might be cold and tired as hell, but she'd come here for a purpose and she wasn't moving another step until she said the things she needed to say. “No. Will you just wait a minute.”

Liam released her immediately and turned around, regarding her with a quiet intensity that set her on edge.

She was very aware she was standing in his home, uninvited in nothing but a wet bra and
undies
and his huge shirt. Not exactly how she'd pictured this going... With a deep sigh, she went to speak, but then remembered part of her plan at least. “Hold on a sec.”

She spun on her heel and went to the pile of wet clothes by the door, bending over to look for the raincoat.

“Jesus,” she heard Liam mutter behind her in a gruff tone, but whatever. He could be irritated all he wanted.

In the raincoat pocket, her hand closed around the hand-fasting ribbon. She clutched it in her fist and turned around, pulling the shirt over her bottom as it had risen a bit during her search.

“Okay,” she said, a little breathless, tossing her hair from her face. “Here.” She held out the ribbon and his face went blank. “Hold out your hand.”

A slight frown pulled his brows together. Wary, he lifted his hand and she grabbed it, turning it over so that his palm was facing up. Then, she placed the ribbon there. She wasn't sure about the proper way to wrap it. “I don't know how to do it.”

Her heart was pounding and her trembling had stopped. His hand was big and warm, and he was looking somewhere between shocked and touched. “
Abbie
,” he started.

“Look, I know what I'm doing,” she said hastily before he could repeat what he'd said earlier. It would really suck if he actually
meant
 what he'd said earlier. Shit, what if he had meant it? And now her eyes were starting to sting. “I know what I'm doing.”

He held her stare for a long moment.

Finally, he moved, taking a step closer and lifting the ribbon. “I'm not sure how to do it either,” he said, wrapping one end of the ribbon around their hand. “Something like this, I suppose.” He took the other and did the same until their hands were wrapped together.

They stared at each other, then
Abbie
realized she had no idea what came next. That was all she needed for a nervous laugh to bubble in her throat. Neither one of them, it seemed, had any idea what to do next. Liam's slow grin took her breath away. “You make me nervous,
Abbie
Murphy.”

Right
. “I make
you
nervous.”

“Aye. Frightfully so,” he said with a smile. “And when you bent over there to root around in that raincoat I almost keeled over...”

A wide grin split her face. He was the whole package. Funny, wicked, intense... And she was more nervous than she'd been on her wedding day. “So what now?”

He cleared his throat. “Now we promise to see where things lead. Six weeks. Open minds,” he smiled. “Open hearts.”

Okay. She could do that. Promising herself to him sounded wicked and wanton and thrilling. In fact, just the idea took her humor away and replaced it with a zing of heat.

“You sure about this?” Liam asked her, his eyes glittering with emotion.

Her first thought was no. But, then, she was leaping ahead to the future again, to the end of their arrangement where nothing was certain. “Yes, I'm sure.” Because this was the here and now, and she wasn't going to live in fear of the future. She was taking a damn chance for once.

Liam's lips twitched and he reached out and rubbed at the deep worry line on her forehead. “Thinking hard there, aren't you lass.”

“Trying not to,” she admitted.

“Hmm,” he hummed, trailing his fingers down the side of her face to push back the wet strands sticking to her skin. Her breath held as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. The sensation of his breath on her skin made her shiver. “I think it's time to warm you up,” his voice came out low and sexy, his mouth brushing the curve of her ear.

His innuendo flowed through her like lava, hot and thick, making her heart pound and her insides quiver with anticipation. She leaned into him, her eyes closing just as he pulled away. “Hot shower,” he practically growled and tugged her along.

CHAPTER 17

The last thing Liam had expected when he fell into the bed was waking to find
Abbie
on his doorstep. Christ, if this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. She was here, her hand still tied to his as he led her into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

As steam filled the room, he faced her. Earlier, fear had overtaken him. A dozen things could have befallen her as she trudged through the storm. Thankfully, she'd made it safely and was not, in fact, hypothermic. She was beautiful, the mud streak across her cheek tugging on his heart.

She'd come all this way. For him.

The fact struck him hard and humbled him.

Her eyes were so dark and full of emotion that he felt a little lost in them, the deep chocolate color reminding him of things sinful and wild.

“Feeling a little cold and needy here, Highlander,” she told him at length, the aura around her tense and anxious and, aye, needy, the quirk on her sweet lips showing him that
Abbie
Murphy had a wicked side. The same wicked side that had sent her sinking to her knees in front him in the middle of the woods.

With a growl, he slid his hand around the back of her neck as he lowered his head. The moment his lips touched hers, she sighed, and he was lost. Her hot little tongue flicked out and ran a naughty trail along his bottom lip, kissing, testing, urging him to do something. For the moment, he was content with breathing her in, sharing breath, letting her get all worked up.

And needy.

Abbie's
grip on his hand was tight. He moved their bound hands behind her back to press her against him. Her nipples were hard through the cotton shirt he'd given her. Her free hand slid around his waist, the palm cold and sending a shiver dancing along his skin.

And once she was near jumping with anticipation, he kissed her like he wanted to, deep and possessive and completely.

When he lifted his head, he was sure he saw stars.
Abbie
trembled in his arms and it wasn't from the cold. He removed the ribbon from their hands, then slowly rid her of his shirt. He gazed at her breasts in the wet see-through bra and took a shaky breath. “Go ahead,” she said, “take it off.”

He didn't need to be asked twice. Liam had her bra unclipped in a flash, the thing landing in the corner with his shirt. He didn't touch her. For a second he wasn't sure he could move.

“This, too.” Her hips wiggled and he thought he might die right then and there.

Calling upon every bit of strength he had, he dropped to his knees and pulled her panties down until she stepped from them and they, too, sailed through the air to join the clothes in the corner. Liam straightened, trying like hell to stop himself from falling on her like some raging beast.

Abbie
slid her arm around his waist. He drew her to him, then backed her slowly into the shower until the spray was flattening her long black hair and running over the most beautiful skin he'd ever seen. He grabbed the bar of soap and began washing the mud from his woman's lush body.

Liam had never been a religious man, but
Abbie
was worth worship.

In awe, he watched his soapy hands glide over her slick skin. He made sure to cover every inch, every part of her, noting her small
sighs
, what she liked, what places made her squirm. He intentionally bypassed certain parts, wanting to make her crazy, wanting to make her
want
more than she ever had before.

“Liam,” she said in a low voice.

“Aye,
Abbie
?” he replied as his palms slid around her waist.

She swallowed and gazed up at him, eyes dark with desire. “You're still wearing your pants.”

He blinked and sure enough, she was right. His smile grew until he was grinning like a damn fool. He kissed her wet lips and laughed.

She tugged at the waistband. “I'd like them off now, please.”

His chest swelled. He bent forward and kissed her neck. Her head fell back as he licked her skin and sucked. Then, he was ridding himself of his wet pants.

* * *

She was going to break apart, scream...
Beg.
Every glide of his big, rough hands over her skin made her crazy. He touched her everywhere, but never where she wanted, even though she strained and urged him on with moans she couldn't seem to control.

And when he kissed her long and deep, she thought her heart would pound out of her chest. His entire demeanor was one of confidence and patience and contained hunger, a steady slow burn that was killing her.