Devil in Tartan (Highland Grooms #4)(50)

Aulay frowned with concern. He slipped his hand to the back of her head and pushed her head down so far that her hat tumbled to the straw at their feet. “Breathe,” he said, holding her there. “Donna think, just breathe.”

Somehow, Lottie managed to gather her wits and draw a single breath. And then another. When her breath was coming to her, she pressed up, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “I didna think... I never imagined...” There were too many thoughts racing through her brain.

He stroked her cheek, her arm. “Donna think of it, Lottie. I’d fight to the death before I’d allow them to harm you.”

How could he say that? How could he even suggest it after what she’d done to him? She slowly opened her eyes and looked into his arresting blue eyes. He was concerned for her. She could see it in his expression, he was genuinely concerned. And there was more—he desired her. This was a much different look than the lust that had shimmered in his eyes the night he had kissed her. Lust, she understood. Lust had followed her about all her life—there wasn’t a man who didn’t look at her in that way. But as he touched her face with reverence, Lottie could unequivocally say that no man had ever looked at her with the sort of desire she could see in his face. His was the look of someone who desired a woman he cared about.

He bent his head and kissed her.

Just like that, the world turned upside down. Lottie reacted with all the yearning she’d felt since the first time she’d laid eyes on him, the first time he’d kissed her, the first time she’d seen him standing tall, dressed like the man that he was, not the man she’d forced him to be. His lips were the only bit of warmth in that stable, the only hope in her heart. He was kissing her, and everything else, all her troubles, all her fears, seemed to blessedly fade away.

He spread his fingers across her face to hold her as he deepened his kiss. She invited his tongue into her mouth, tangled hers with his. Her hand was on his arm, her fingers wrapped as far around the thick muscles as she could possibly reach. This was utter madness—they were being hunted, her father was gravely ill, Aulay would bring her to justice, and yet, she had never desired anyone as violently as she wanted him, now, in this stable.

Lottie’s arousal was quickly scorching, burning in her blood, the tide of desire rising on a flood of emotions. She craved his touch, the strength of his body, the hard planes, the soft curves. She touched the corner of his mouth with her fingers, angled her head so that she could deepen this kiss between them, and pressed against him with her body. She could feel his hard arousal, could feel the tension of his desire, the restraint that radiated out of him. He slid his hand beneath her coat and around her waist, holding her tightly to him. Don’t let go, don’t let go.

But Aulay let go. He lifted his head and braced his hands against the wall on either side of her head. “We have to go, aye?” He sounded regretful as he brushed her hair from her face. “They are looking for us yet, so we must be quick now, leannan,” he said, using an old Gaelic term of endearment that glided down her spine.

Reality slowly pushed its way into her thoughts once more. She nodded and dipped down to retrieve her hat.

“What do we do now?” she asked as she fit it on her head and tucked her hair up underneath.

“Return to the ship. They’ll be searching the ships in the harbor if they’re no’ already.” He wrapped his hand securely around hers and smiled softly. “Ready, now?”

She was not ready. She would never be ready. She would be content to remain in this stable with him for the rest of her life. “Aye,” she whispered.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and hurried her out of the stable and into the alley. The sun glared on the world just as they’d left it. Whatever had just happened between them, whatever they’d felt, remained behind, in the shadows of that stable. Out here, Lottie’s situation was just as dire as it had been a half hour ago.

Aulay’s sense of direction was quite good, and he successfully navigated the maze of alleyways to return to the quay. Norval was there, pacing the quay, the little jolly boat moored to a post.

He instantly began to unwrap the rope when he saw them.

“What of Dru and Duff?” Lottie asked, looking frantically about for any sign of them.

“They’re on board,” Norval said.

“What? So soon? With a physician, aye?”

Norval didn’t look at her, busy with his task of the boat. “A healer of sorts, aye,” he said. “Will you get in the boat, Lottie?”

Thank God that at least that part of their plan had gone right.

“Has anyone else come by?” Aulay asked as he helped Lottie down into the jolly, then leaped in behind her. “Any men?”

“Aye, four men,” Norval said, and pushed away from the quay, hopping into the stern of the boat and facing Lottie. He picked up a set of oars and in time with Aulay, began to row. “They look for a woman with white hair.”

Lottie blinked. She should never have removed her hat at the inn.

Norval’s gaze was penetrating. Did he fault her? “Aye, what is it, then?” she demanded. “I canna help the color of my hair.”

“Och, Lottie,” he said. “’Tis no’ your hair.” He suddenly pressed his lips together, as if couldn’t say more. His expression suddenly seemed strangely sorrowful.