Alec Mackenzie's Art of Seduction (Mackenzies & McBrides #9)(32)

He brushed his thumb over her chin. “A kiss for pleasure.” He slanted his mouth across hers once more, slowly and deliberately. “A kiss for diversion.” Another taste, parting her lips and nibbling the lower one.

“Most diverting, yes,” Celia said softly.

Her eyes closed as she sought his mouth again. She bit down on his lower lip, the merest touch, but it sent a hot spike through Alec’s every nerve.

She had no idea how seductive she was. Lady Flora had instructed Alec to flirt with her, flatter her, ensnare her trust, but Alec was the one being ensnared.

Celia continued to nibble, becoming more daring. Alec flicked his tongue across her teeth and caught her upper lip between his. She gasped and began to laugh, then the laughter died when Alec turned to her lower lip, pulling it into his mouth to suckle.

Celia’s hands landed on his chest, but not to push him away. Alec felt her breath come faster, her fingers curl on his coat.

He slid his arm around her, drawing her to him, her breasts soft through her fichu. The thin linen, meant to hide her from prying eyes, was a flimsy barrier to his touch. The lace on its edges scratched his fingertips, and her heart hammered behind the fabric.

Alec released her lip then kissed it. Celia’s eyes were half closed, her cap falling, her hair mussed. Beautiful.

She didn’t hang in his arms like a ravished maiden, she stood upright, clinging to him, strong on her feet. Celia brushed his jaw with her finger, smiling when she found his bristly whiskers.

“I thought all Highlanders wore thick beards, to keep warm.”

“Not all,” Alec said. “We lads like to be fashionable, and the fashion is to have nothing on the face.”

Celia moved her fingers to his hair. “It’s also fashionable to shave your head and wear a wig.”

“Aye, well, I can’t bring myself to let a razor anywhere near m’ scalp. Hard enough at m’ throat.”

“I like your hair.” Celia ran fingers through it, gazing at it in wonder, as though she’d never seen a man’s hair before, or touched it. And maybe she hadn’t. These days, if a gentleman didn’t wear a wig, he wore a scull cap over his bald pate.

“My father is bearded,” Alec said. “Maybe that’s why m’ brothers and me shave our faces.”

“You said your father is still alive?”

Alec stiffened. He was to pry information from her, not the other way around. He didn’t believe now that Celia would race to her father and tell him she’d found a Jacobite in Lady Flora’s house—the fact that no one had come to arrest him meant Celia had said nothing thus far. But she might slip in innocent conversation.

“I told you. I lost my family. Culloden killed many a Highlander.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr.— I cannot keep calling you Mr. Finn. That’s not your name, is it?”

“Then call me Alec. My other names are dangerous for you to know.”

Celia shook her head. “I cannot possibly address you by your Christian name. It isn’t done. My mother calls my father Your Grace, and they have been married thirty years.”

Alec’s lips twitched. “What does your father call her?”

“Do you know, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him address my mother directly?”

“Ah, that’s sad, that is. But I’m kissing ye, lass. Of course you can use my Christian name when I’m kissing ye—as long as you say it only when we’re alone.”

Celia touched his chest. “Alec.”

Her voice was low, enticing. God help him. “Celia.”

The blush that spread over her face told him no man outside her family had ever addressed her thus. The little smile told him she liked it.

“I will keep your secret.” She rose on tiptoe and touched a light kiss to his mouth. “This is a kiss of promise.”

In more ways than one. Alec needed this woman, and not for having and discarding afterward. Unlike Will, who could move from lady to lady without a qualm or breaking any hearts in the process, Alec couldn’t have a woman only once. If the first time was glorious, the second time would only be better, as he and the lady in question grew to know each other, and what each other liked. He wanted Celia many, many times.

“And this is a kiss of gratitude.” Alec followed it with another warm touch of mouths. “And this because you’re pretty, and I like it when ye say my name.”

“Alec.” Her lips curved into a smile.

Alec kissed her again, taking his time, silence reigning in the room. He stroked her cheek, pulling her closer so that her breasts fit against him. He tasted her mouth, coaxed her tongue to tangle with his, felt her breath warm his cheek, her hand grip the lapel of his coat.

When he drew back, Celia’s lips were parted, moist, her voice breathless. “What sort of kiss was that?”

“Desire,” Alec said in a low voice. “Nothing more.”

“I liked that one.”

Alec smiled at her eagerness, which made his already hard cock go rigid. He kissed her once again, enjoying the soft response of her lips. “This one is because you’ve lightened my heart. Have since ye poured that cold water on my foot.”

“Gracious.” She leaned into him, her fichu crumpling against his coat. “There was no liking in you when you woke that day. But I shall make note that you enjoy such a thing.”