Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs #1)(40)

He didn’t even try to remove his boots or any part of his clothing. He slid down the bank and dove headlong into the water.

The cold nearly made him gasp, but he managed to prevent himself from inhaling a mouthful of water as he powered downward, his arms flailing outward in an effort to feel her. But if she’d been caught in the current, she could already be well downstream by now.

He was about to come up for air and call for help, when he felt a hand in his hair pulling upward. When his head popped above the surface, he found himself face-to-face with Eveline, who looked concerned. For him.

She cocked her head, put her palm to his cheek, and frowned, her eyes clearly questioning his well-being. He had the sudden urge to strangle her.

“What in the world are you doing, woman?” he bellowed. “Have you any idea what I thought? I thought you were drowning, or that you didn’t know how to swim, or that you’d been swept downstream and would be killed on the rocks.”

She blinked as if none of those thoughts had ever occurred to her. He swore and frowned all the more fiercely at her. He was freezing his arse off and she was treading water next to him, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.

She raised one arm, wiped her fingers along it, then wrinkled her nose in distaste. Then she put her fingers to her nose and pinched her nostrils.

“A bath,” he grumbled. “You wanted a bath. God’s teeth, and you think you stink?”

She nodded solemnly. Then she held up the wet ends of her hair as if to tell him she’d merely been rinsing it. He shook his head.

But he went completely still when she touched his chin. It was just a simple touch, but it was if he’d been pressed by a hot brand. Warmth traveled down his body, alleviating the cold numb that had begun to set in.

Her lips worked up and down almost as if she were trying to say something, but then she clamped them shut and instead gave him a sad look that could only be interpreted as an apology.

Then to his utter shock, she wrapped her arms around his neck to give herself leverage, and she lifted herself out of the water just enough that she could press her lips to his.

Several things happened at once.

Her full br**sts pressed against his chest. Her ni**les were hard and puckered from the cold, and he could feel the imprint on his skin. Her lips melted over his, warm and soft, and he was suddenly as heated as a man who’d been baked in the sun on the hottest summer day.

Ah but the lass was sweet. The sweetest mouth he’d ever tasted.

He gave in to the sinful urge to possess that delectable mouth and he returned her kiss in full measure. His tongue stroked over her lips, coaxing and enticing her to let him in.

She gave a breathy sigh and parted her mouth, allowing his tongue to push inside.

He liked kissing. Many a man didn’t have much patience for it. His men jested about kissing being a waste of time and was only for wooing the unwilling lasses. But if a lass was willing, they’d much rather move to the more rudimentary elements of coupling.

But to Graeme, kissing was almost as intimate as the act of lovemaking itself. It wasn’t something to be hurried or to be offered as a token to woo a reluctant lass. It was an expression of regard.

Eveline tentatively stroked her tongue over his. One quick brush against the tip of his and then she retreated, but as he deepened the kiss, she came back and soon she was exploring his mouth in the same manner he was exploring hers.

When she finally broke away, she was panting. Her cheeks were colored and her eyes glowed. She had the look of someone who’d drunk a little too much ale. And she looked up at him with such an expression that his entire body raged with arousal and sharp lust. So much so that he wanted to take her onto the riverbank and possess her with the sun warming the both of them.

She touched his lip and then touched hers, her finger lingering over her bottom one that was swollen from the force and longevity of their kiss. Then she smiled and something melted inside him.

“You’re going to freeze,” he muttered, taking note of the chill bumps that danced across her shoulders and arms.

He hauled her into his arms and carried her to the opposite bank, away from his mount. He turned and whistled and the horse obediently forded the stream.

He saw that Eveline’s clothing was folded neatly and on a nearby rock, but she also had a blanket, which was good because now that they were out of the water, she was shivering.

He put her down long enough to reach for the blanket, and then he wrapped it around her, covering her from head to toe. He even made certain her head was covered.

She stared up at him, her eyes gleaming in amusement as she tried to move. He’d swaddled her in the blanket so she couldn’t even move her arms, much less walk back to the keep.

He glanced at his horse, knowing it was the easiest way to return, but he saw her follow his gaze and noted the panic in her eyes. Her father hadn’t lied. The idea of mounting a horse terrified her.

He cupped her cheek, and she looked back up at him.

“I’ll not make you do something that frightens you, Eveline.”

She relaxed and then leaned her cheek against his palm. To his surprise, she turned just enough to kiss the inside of his hand. It was such a simple thing and yet he felt it all the way to his soul.

He reached down and lifted her into his arms. The walk to the keep wasn’t long and he’d need to put on dry clothing himself. And he liked her in his arms. It felt natural for him to be holding her thus.