In the Heart of the Highlander (15 page)

He was simply tired, that was all. And sexually frustrated. He could do something about that.

“Let’s sit. Your feet must still be tender.”

“I should go.”

“There are hours yet before you have anything to do. Do you want to dine here with me?”

“Have you listened to a word I’ve said?” She sat down anyway, too far away on a chair near the window. The panoramic view was breathtaking, but he only had eyes for her.

“I take it your answer is no.” He sat on the sofa, bringing the bottle of Raeburn’s Special Reserve with him. “Would you care for more?”

Mary shook her head. “I daren’t. You’re right—it’s quite potent. I wouldn’t want to fall asleep and forget to open the door to Dr. Bauer.”

“Maybe we should practice.”

Mary looked at him blankly.

“You know. I can pretend to be Bauer. You invite me in. And so forth.”

“Practice.” She licked her lips and Alec thought he’d expire with lust. She would taste of Raeburn’s Special Reserve and her own particular sweetness.

He cleared his throat and his mind. “Yes. Like a dress rehearsal.”

“As they do in the theater. I suppose you’d know all about that.”

He rubbed his face, surprised again at encountering bristles rather than fur. “You know my reputation. I can’t deny it. I’ve misspent my youth and my middle age. But I mean to change that. No more chorines or aspiring thespians. I am a reformed man.”

“What shall you do for entertainment, my lord?”

“I’ll find something to keep me busy.”

“Or someone,” she said a bit tartly.

“Not here in the Highlands. They think I’m the devil. No decent—or indecent—woman will be seen in my company. I might toss her out a window, you know.”

He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. Really, was this the way to get Mary Arden to frolic on his bed for a few minutes before she screamed her head off? Silently, to be sure. She’d have to mime that last part.

Yes, it seemed to be. She set her empty glass down and stood up. “All right. Go knock on your own door, and we’ll see how to set the trap properly.”

There would be nothing proper about it.

Chapter

18

M
ary had run through various scenarios in her head already. Why not prepare in a more practical way? Hands-on experience, as it were.

Dr. Bauer had already touched her as her doctor. Tonight he was planning to touch her again. Mary wished she’d brought her aunt’s notes with her so she could remember how to shift her body to deflect attention. She was afraid of being overpowered for however brief a time before Oliver ran in. Mary truly didn’t think she had it in her to poke her fingers into Bauer’s eyeballs—she had trouble removing a loose eyelash out of her own.

She lifted her knee experimentally, and Alec looked somewhat nervous.

Mary pushed him toward the door. “Go on. We’ll start from the beginning.”

Her room was much smaller, and had a bed in it. She reconsidered. “Wait a minute. There’s no point in you going out to the hallway. I’ll go into your bedroom and you can knock on that door.”

“What are you wearing?” Alec blurted.

“You can see, can’t you?” One of her dreadful Mary Evensong black gowns. She’d almost left them all behind in London. But Mary prided herself on being ready for any occasion, and if she had to slip into her seventy-year-old self, she would be ready with this one dress.

“No, I mean tonight. You won’t be in your nightclothes, will you?”

It might look suspicious to the other gentlemen if she let Bauer in wearing her white nightgown, not that it was at all enticing, with ruffles up to her chin and down to her knuckles. Nothing showed except her very ordinary face and toes. It was hardly an ensemble meant to tempt a gentleman. But as she needed to appear as innocent as possible, she probably should remain fully dressed.

“One of my day gowns, I suppose.”

“Good. Don’t let him touch any buttons or hooks.”

“I shall endeavor not to. Now, are you ready?” She sat on a chair and folded her hands.

Alec looked as if he wanted to say something else. Instead, he shut the door and rapped an insistent tattoo behind it.

“Who is it?” Mary asked.

“It is I, Chosef Bauer.”

She bit back her laughter—it was odd to hear a Scotsman try to speak English as a Viennese would. She stood and smoothed out her black skirts, counting to ten.

“Let me in,
liebchen
. Or should it be
liebling
?”

“I didn’t realize you spoke German,” Mary said.

“You vould be surprised how facile I am vit da langviches.”

Mary expected Alec knew how to proposition women in any number of them. “One moment, Al—Dr. Bauer.”

How foolish—her heart began to hammer as she walked slowly to the door. It was all she could do to turn the knob and open it.

Alec was a much larger man than Josef Bauer, but his size didn’t intimidate her, and it was rather enjoyable to see him standing there in his shirtsleeves. He’d removed his waistcoat, tie, and linen collar, too, before she’d come and the column of his throat was intriguing.

“
Guten abend
, Fräulein Arden.” He leered at her as if he were in some third-rate melodrama. He was only missing a mustache to twirl.

“Don’t overdo it, Alec. Remember, you are a practiced seducer. You’re used to getting your way with nervous females. If I were a nervous female, I’d run from that particular look. Or laugh.”

“There is novhere to run, Miss Arden. You knew vhen you invited me what vass to happen.” He didn’t break character, his accent heavier than ever. She’d better get into the spirit of the thing, hadn’t she?

“Oh, Dr. Bauer,” she said breathlessly, “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” She stumbled backward to the chair she’d been sitting in. Although Alec’s bedroom was larger than hers, they had similar amenities. A pair of tufted chairs sat before the window, and she gestured to the other. “Won’t you sit down?”

“Miss Arden—Mary—I should so much like to do someting else. Shall ve dance?”

“What?” She was pretty sure Josef Bauer would not want to waltz with her.

“Tantzen, ja?”
Alec held up his arms and winked at her.

“This is not a useful exercise, Alec. You are being silly.”

“Who knows vhat a man might ask for, my dear? The vays of the mind are mysterious. Vun must be prepared.”

“I am not prepared to dance now. My feet hurt, as you know.”

“Ach. I am a doctor. Let me haff a look.”

Mary was torn between annoyance and amusement. “You are not a doctor—well, I suppose you are for the purpose of practice, but I cannot imagine Bauer asking me to take my shoes off.”

“Vy not? Ve men vant all the ladies to disrobe. Vun must start somewhere.”

“I have no intention of removing my shoes. I told you that when I arrived.”

Alec sighed. “Fine. I am inconsolable, but I persevere. Fräulein Arden, I haff never met anyone so shy and luffley. Please say dat you return my admiration.”

“I—I suppose so. Y-you are very nice.”

“Say it like you mean it or I am apt to get up and leaf, and you vill not have a chance to yell your
kopf
off.”

“Blast it, Alec! I am no flirt! And you’re you, not Bauer. I am sure I’ll do much better tonight when it matters.” Mary had had no difficulty stringing Bauer along the several times they’d conversed, but now her mind was devoid of any repartee, witty or otherwise. This was Alec—who seemed to make her vitless vitout even trying.

He looked skeptical. “You know vhy I haff come. Let’s not beat around da bushes. I am going to pick you up now and toss you to da bed.”

Mary’s stomach flipped. “You most certainly are not!”

“
Ja
, I am.”

Alec leaped up and dumped her on the bed before she could think about his eyeballs or his groin. Her hat flew off despite the hatpins, and she tried to scramble off the bed with no luck. Before she knew it he was perched over her, a manic gleam in his eye.

“You vant me. You know you do.”

The trouble was, he was right. But if it was beastly Bauer behaving so barbarically—Lord, how could she think in such alliterative fashion when her virtue was being compromised?—surely she should do something to get rid of him. Mary gave a feeble push.

“Dat’s all you haff got?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

The wretched man laughed, a delicious rumbly sound. With his mouth open at such close range, she observed his teeth were excellent.

Suddenly he rolled away, leaving an unsettling vacuum. He lay flat on his back and reached for her hand to prevent her from rising. She was still wearing her black kidskin gloves, but could feel the warmth of his fingers as they traced circles into her palm.

“You see, my dear Miss Arden, how easily you were manipulated. You should have hit me or screamed.” All trace of the Viennese villain was gone.

“Well, of course I would have screamed if you were really Bauer, but you’re not,” she said, cross. “I don’t think this dress rehearsal was worthwhile at all.”

“You gave no indication of even
wanting
to scream.”

Damn his smug, stubbled face. He was right. His nearness did something inside her and turned her brain to oatmeal. “I assure you, I know how to scream, and I shall do so when the occasion calls for it. And I’m quite sure Bauer will not be heaving me around like a rag doll tonight. Is this how you treated all your mistresses? All brawn and no finesse?”

Alec glared at her. My, he was fierce, even without his beard. “I have as much finesse as the next fellow.”

“Prove it.” The words flew out of her mouth without any of her usual caution.

“I don’t need to pr—oh, hell. All right. You’ll get what you’ve asked for, you impossible woman. Lie still, and don’t say a word.” He moved alarmingly closer.

“I didn’t mean doing anything right
now.
”

“Too late for second thoughts. I’ve been challenged, and I always rise to a challenge.” He drew her gloved hand to the front of his trousers.

Oh my.

“You’re not—you don’t mean to—”

“Hush. I said no talking. But there may be a little screaming at the end.”

He pulled her closer, the heat of all the clothes between them tropical. Then he tugged up her skirt and petticoats, exposing her thighs to the cool mountain breeze that wafted in from his open window.

“Alec!” She croaked like a frog.

“Shh. Let me pleasure you. With finesse. I won’t do anything permanent—we haven’t time.”

A finger snaked beneath the suspenders that attached her corset to the tops of her stockings, but he made no attempt to remove them. Her feet would be safe, but the rest of her definitely would not. His hand moved up to the slit in her short combination and she forgot to breathe.

“You are wearing Blenheim Bouquet.”

Mary blushed. She splashed it everywhere, even if it was a gentleman’s cologne.

“I’m going to kiss you now, and touch you while I do. I have your permission?”

He sounded so serious. Mary nodded. She couldn’t have stuck her tongue on the roof of her mouth to say no if her life depended on it. She closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss, and felt the mattress shift.

The location of his kiss came as a total surprise. It was not at all where she expected it. He parted the lace-trimmed silk, her womanly folds, and the tip of his tongue touched a knot of sudden need inside her. She did scream, just a little. It was more out of surprise than anything else, and he stopped stroking her instantly.

“May I continue?”

“Oh, do stop talking,” Mary muttered, refusing to look at his upturned face. She shouldn’t want to be complicit, but she was. She’d seen pictures of just this very thing in Lord Harwood’s library while she waited for the man. She hadn’t been snooping—the Chinese pillow book lay open right on his desk. It had been difficult for her to keep a straight face as he shyly discussed his need for an innocent young wife for procreational purposes to carry on the Harwood name. She suspected his wife might be very happy in the end if he was following the book’s illustrations.

“I am at your service, my dear Miss Arden.” She imagined Alec’s wolfish grin, a man secure in his sexual confidence, a man who’d done this many times before to his helpless, happy victims. He returned to glide his tongue and gentle fingers around areas Mary didn’t know existed. She was remarkably stupid, but had always been a fast learner. She did not need much practice to allow herself to experience this exquisite assault upon her senses.

She grew hot, the blood wild beneath the surface of her skin, even making her face feel tingly. One trembling hand clenched the rucked fabric of her dress, the other encouraging Alec’s dark head to remain in place and continue his wicked kiss. His black hair was coarse beneath her fingers, but his tongue was smooth and supple as pulled taffy, contorting itself around her center with ease. He held her in place, too, one finger now stationed inside her passage. He had entered so gently that Mary felt nothing but liquid heat and the softest of pressure. She was tight and stretched—how would he accomplish anything more delicious on Monday?

As to that, could she wait that long? She was on the cusp of something now, a simultaneous loosening and tightening, which confused her. Mary now wished her boots weren’t on. She wanted to arch her feet and curl her toes and flex from her lower back to her soles. She was mummified by her corset and clothes, gasping for air and reaching for an elusive something just at the edge of her clouded mind.

Alec intensified his suckling, encapsulating her swollen bud in his mouth with swift precision. A thumb pressed against her pubic bone at the exact same time and she fell and flew over that edge, incapable of any thought at all. She made an embarrassing noise wholly unfamiliar to her, which caused Alec to chuckle against her wet flesh and delve deeper within her. Stars flashed behind her eyelids and her skin flamed and froze.

This was torment. This was heaven. Mary could readily see why such activity was restricted, secret, even forbidden, for why would anyone ever want to get out of bed again? The world would stop and civilization would be in utter ruin.

Mary was not entirely ignorant. Posing as her aunt for four years had opened her eyes to the many vagaries and varieties in society. People thought she was an older woman, aware of the world. She’d heard confessions she wished she could close her ears to from both males and females seeking her help to find happiness. Everything then had been abstract, but now she understood all too well.

Mary was sated and splayed open, contractions rippling through her like receding waves as Alec withdrew his hands and mouth. She did not complain. In truth, she could not have born much more of his wickedness if she ever wanted to find her good sense again. He covered her with her crumpled skirts and slid up the bed, his face as flushed as hers must be, a mischievous smile on his twitching lips.

“Enough finesse for you, Miss Arden, or would you like another try? I’m at your service.”

He was proud of himself, as well he should be. She felt boneless. Mary had never dreamed of such luscious languor. The thought of returning to her room—the thought of walking—seemed most impractical if not impossible.

He brushed a tear from her cheek. Odd. She didn’t even know she had cried. Mary was not, in general, a crier. She didn’t have time to be. Tears were useless—it was one of her firmly held beliefs. What on earth had happened to her?