Never Kiss a Laird (10 page)

‘Very well,” she
said, surprising herself.
 

“Good,” Hugh
exclaimed.
 
“I will meet you at the
Dancing Maiden in half an hour.
 
Will
that amount of time
suffice
for your errands?”

Sally nodded and
smiled, mostly at her own daring, and the Earl found himself grinning at her in
return.
 
What was it about this girl?
he
wondered as he wheeled his horse about and headed for the
posting house.
 

He handed his
reigns to the groom at the Dancing Maiden, and entered the low building.
 
He had been coming into Thorne Village
ever since he was a child, and had known the publican at the Maiden for many
years.
 
His business, picking up a
package from London
on behalf of his steward, was soon concluded, and he requested a private
parlour
, and asked the publican to direct a Miss Denlington
there when she should call. He spent a few minutes choosing what cakes and
pastries he thought his guest would fancy, and then subsided into a chair
before the crackling fire, the image of a beautiful red-haired girl before his
mind’s eye.

By the time
Sally arrived at the Dancing Maiden, she had made all her purchases, and had
splurged on having them delivered to
Whitethorne
Cottage, not having considered ahead of time how she would ride home on
Beauty’s back carrying flour, oats, a small quantity of beef, sundry other
groceries and a large quantity of candles.

Despite the
sunshine, she was feeling a little chilled by the brisk air, and as she entered
the warm
parlour
the sight of the cheerful fire and
the well-laid tea tray pulled a satisfied sigh from her lips.
 
Looking up at the sound, Hugh was momentarily
bereft of breath at the sight of her.
 
Her red-gold curls had been tossed in the wind, and framed her face
enchantingly.
 
A blush of
colour
set off her high cheek bones, and her eyes sparkled
with pleasure at the anticipation of a warm room and a cup of tea.
 
She was unbuttoning her jacket, and pulling off
her gloves, and Hugh knew a wish that she would not stop there.
 
Shaking away these improper thoughts, he
stood and welcomed his guest.

“Did you
accomplish all your errands, Miss Denlington?”
 
he
asked, and Sally was aware once again of
wishing she could use her real name.
 
There was a feeling of dishonesty in assuming a false name.
 
But hiding her location was a necessity, so
she merely smiled and nodded.

“And you?”

“Indeed.
 
May I pour a cup of tea for you?”

Sally took the
cup gratefully, and added some biscuits to the saucer.
 
“Thank you!”
 
 
She sipped from her cup for a
moment, reveling in the warmth coming from the fire.
  
Hugh added a piece of wood to the fire, and
as he did so, Sally had an opportunity to scrutinize him.
 
His brown tweed riding coat showed off his
broad shoulders to advantage, and the legs that were encased in buckskin
breeches were muscular and strong.
 
He
was a very handsome man, she decided, as she looked at the way his dark hair
sprang from his broad forehead, and at his straight nose and firm lips.
 
She started to feel an involuntary response
to his proximity that started in her chest and moved distractingly to other
parts of her body as well.

At that moment
Hugh looked up and met her eyes.
 
Sally
cast about her mind for a conversational gambit, anything to break the spell,
but her mind was as dry as her mouth suddenly seemed.
  
She licked her lips, trying to moisten them,
and the Earl’s eyes were pulled to her mouth.
 
He straightened, and stood looking down at her, a harsh frown on his
face.

“Miss
Denlington,” he uttered in a husky voice.
 
“I do not know what it is about you, but I find myself wishing to repeat
my very reprehensible behavior of the other day.” He met her gaze and gave a
rueful laugh.
 
“Perhaps we should drink our
tea, and resume our homeward journeys.”
 
 

Sally knew that
he was right.
 
If she had a reputation to
protect, she should immediately excuse herself from the room, have Beauty
saddled and head instantly for
Whitethorne
cottage.
 
A thoughtful gleam came into her eyes.
  
In truth, the only benefit she could find in
the dreadful situation she had landed in was her freedom.
 
Unlike girls who were trying to make a
respectable match, Sally could not come up with any convincing reason to follow
the conventions of society.
 
If she were
to be condemned for being a fallen woman, why should she not allow herself to
fall?
 
She had been reliving over and
over in her mind the events that had transpired at their last meeting.
 
What reason could there be not to relive them
again in reality?
 
She was aware of the
distracting way her body was responding to the handsome Mr. McLeod, and she
knew an overwhelming curiosity to experience more.
 

So instead of rising
and preparing to leave, Sally merely took another sip of her tea. “Yes, I
suppose that would be the prudent course of action,” she replied.
  
She wanted Hugh to kiss her again, but she
had no idea how to make that happen.
   
Then
she remembered that Hugh had been trying to keep her warm in the cave, and the
proximity of their bodies had facilitated the actions that followed.
 
So she stood, setting aside her teacup, and
crossed the room.
 
She rubbed her arms
briskly and said plaintively, “I fear that I became quite chilled this
morning.
 
I don’t seem to be able to warm
up.”
 
 

As she stood
looking at Hugh expectantly, a smile came into his brown eyes.
 
“Then you must come closer to the fire,” he
replied, and came forward to take her hands.
 
He attempted to pull her over to the warmth of the hearth, but she
resisted.
  
She tried to think of another
gambit, and stood indecisively, her hands still held by the Earl.
 
A small pulse was beating in her white
throat, and a sense of frustration was rising within her.
 
Should she shiver and act ill, she
wondered?
 
Or should she just kiss him
herself? Why was this so difficult, she frowned in frustration, her chest
rising and falling more
rapidly.

The Earl watched
these emotions as they were reflected on her open countenance.
  
Enchanted, he gently pulled Sally towards
him.
 
“Perhaps I can help you get warm,”
he offered, succumbing to his own wants.

Hugh slipped one
arm around her waist, and with his other hand he tipped her chin up.
 
Sally raised her face to his, and was a bit
confounded to see him smiling broadly at her.
 
She met his gaze, a question forming in her own, until the moment when
he lowered his head and their lips met, and she felt incapable of further rational
thought.

Hugh’s strong
lips pressed
against her own,
and she allowed her lips
to part.
 
She closed her eyes, and surrendered
to the incredible sensations that this contact created.
 
She felt the touch of Hugh’s tongue moving
distractingly against her own, and she moaned and snaked her arms up around his
neck.
 
She threaded her fingers into the
hair at the nape of his neck, and Hugh made a small noise deep in his throat,
and deepened their kiss.
 
His lips moved
to her neck, and the feeling of his breath, hot against her skin, caused a
shiver that ran down her spine.
 
Hugh’s
hand gently traced the line of her jaw, his thumb stroked her full lower lip,
and Sally captured it in her mouth, sucking gently.
 
She felt Hugh’s sharp intake of breath, and
reveled in the thought that he was responding in the same way that she was.
 
The sensitive tips of her breasts pulled into
taught pebbles, and Sally pressed herself against the Earl’s hard chest.
 
With a sigh, he imprisoned her mouth again,
pulling at her lower lip with his mouth, until he settled his mouth over hers
again, exploring with his tongue, as his hands slid further to investigate her
body.
  
He slipped his hand inside her
open jacket, and found the gentle mound of her breast through the fine lawn of
her shirtwaist.
 
He rubbed his thumb back
and forth over the taut tip, and Sally groaned aloud.
 
She pressed into his hand, wanting to free
her breasts from her confining clothing.

Sally felt an
unrelenting throbbing beginning between her legs.
 
It was as if the sensations that Hugh was
causing with his fascinating hands were shooting straight through her body to
this very center of her being.
 
She moved
impatiently against the Earl’s hard body, wanting the closest contact she could
get.
 
Suddenly Hugh swept her up into his
arms, and, with their lips still locked together, took her to the sofa.
 
He seated himself, still holding her cradled
on his lap.
 
Sally shifted her weight on
his lap, the sensations at her core pushing her on to find even more
contact.
 
She turned to face him, and
looking steadily into his eyes, she put one knee on the sofa, and slipped her
other leg across Hugh’s lap to straddle him, pressing her throbbing center into
him.
 

Sally groaned
and softly laughed as she moved in slow sensual circles against the Earl, and
she felt a rigidity that was the perfect goal for the sweet agonizing need
between her legs.
 
She moved gently side
to side against it, as she met Hugh’s kiss again.
 
His hand slipped behind her to cup her
buttocks, holding her as he pushed against her warm center.
 
Sally felt confined by her clothes and wished
she could free her heavy breasts from them, feel Hugh’s skin against her own.
 

Hugh’s lips
moved down the soft white skin of her throat to the rounded tops of her
breast.
 
With one hand he slipped the
buttons of her shirt-waist
open,
and pushed the fabric
aside, allowing her breasts to fall from their confining chemise.
 
He took one rosy tip in his mouth, his tongue
teasing the hard tip, sucking gently.
 
Sally arched her back, her breath coming quickly, her eyes closed, the
sensations coursing through wildly.
 

Hugh raised his
head and met Sally’s eyes, the fever of passion within them reflecting his own,
and took a deep breath.
 

“Sally,” he
breathed, pressing a kiss onto her swollen lips.
 
With an obvious effort, he pulled his lips
away.
 

“No,” Sally
whispered, frustrated, leaning in to him and raising her face for his
kiss.
 
“Don’t stop.”

Hugh gave an
unsteady laugh, but he raised one hand, brushing the red-gold curls back from
her forehead, and pressing a kiss to her brow.
 
He drew a shaky breath, and said, “I believe you have bewitched me, Miss
Denlington.”

Sally sat back,
still straddling his lap, her entire body tingling with a desire to continue
with what they had started.
 
“Have I?” she
whispered.
 

“It is the only
explanation I can devise,” he muttered, as he gently lifted her and set her
beside him on the sofa.
 
He stood and
walked to the fireplace, his back to Sally.
 
“I cannot otherwise explain my inability to control my actions around
you.”

“Perhaps you
have bewitched me too, then, sir,” Sally replied.
 
She pushed the skirts of her riding habit
down, and set her jacket to rights.
 
Her
body was still vibrating, her breasts tender and full, the throbbing at her
core still causing distracting sensations.
 
She looked up at the Earl as he turned to face her.
 

“Forgive me,” he
said with a harsh smile.
 
“Let us drink
our tea, and I promise to behave like a gentleman.
 
The sun is out, and we should be on our way
before the weather breaks.”

The Earl handed
her teacup to her, the contents now tepid and unappealing.
 
Sally picked up one of the biscuits and took
a bite, chewing slowly as she eyed the handsome man before her.
 
Never before had chivalry and good breeding
been so inopportune, she mused.
 
 
He had crossed the line, but was trying to
save them both from further indiscretion.
 
Sally, who usually applauded a man for being a gentleman, started to
wonder what she could do to break down his resistance.

“I understand
there is to be a village fete in a few weeks,” Hugh mentioned, turning the
conversation to safer channels.
 
“There
will be farm stalls, and crafts, and a party to welcome the spring.”