Rogue's Challenge (15 page)
She cleared her throat and her unruly thoughts from her mind as she adjusted her glasses. “Yes, I would like to see some of Edinburgh before we leave.” But Ian Southernland and his kisses wove through her mind like an intricate tapestry with hidden pictures, ones she had to find, if only to put her hopeful heart, her silly Cinderella dreams to rest.
"Then ‘tis settled. We shall go out. What say you?"
Ian's cheery demeanor, forced and pained as his pounding head reminded him, seemed his only recourse in dealing with Jenny. He hoped those probing brown eyes of hers would cease their study of him and soon. Sitting beside her at the table, he could see the rapid pulse at her throat.
She found him pleasing to the eye, and perhaps more. A fact that bothered him on many levels. How was he to maintain what little sanity he still possessed if she continued to look at him in such a way? Their outing would be painful to his aching head, but a needed distraction. With her preoccupation with the town, perhaps he would refrain from pulling her into his arms and devouring her sweet mouth.
Michael took up the conversation as Ian ate his late morning meal, one he prayed would stay down. Apparently Dougal and his wife had an inkling of his condition and served him bread and broth instead of the spicier dishes he was accustomed to.
"Mary, thank Mrs. Dougal for me. The meal was delicious as always,” he said to the maid as she took his now empty bowl. She giggled and scurried back to the kitchen. Ian ignored Jenny's narrowed gaze. Best to think she was put out with his behavior last night rather than jealous over the girl.
"Shall we be off?” he said, rising to his feet, feeling steadier than before. Perhaps the day wouldn't be as painful as he thought.
The day was bright as they strolled along the street and through the shops. Jenny bubbled with such wonder, Ian could do naught but watch her. The many envious stares cast his way, made his chest swell, and his heart sink. She was not his. His hope that the afternoon would prove to be less painful than when he awoke with his aching head had vanished nearly the moment he'd had the ludicrous thought.
He would resist her, all of her. He had no choice. She was a lady, and although she seemed attracted to him, he would not pursue a liaison with her.
They went back to the shop they'd entered that first day. The ring Michael had looked at caught Jenny's eye and Ian knew she wanted it. But she refused to spend her limited funds on the thing. She said she was saving the money Tuck had given her for presents for the babies.
Ian admired her decision, but would not let her leave without the ring, so he purchased it for her against her rather loud protests. But he could see the delight in her eyes even while she argued with him.
"I don't have to have it,” she complained.
"What is a pretty lady without a pretty bobble?” he asked, pulling out some coins.
"But it's so expensive. I know a good deal about the economy here. You are not going to buy it for me."
"I most certainly am.” He slipped it on her finger before she could protest. “You see, ‘tis a perfect fit.” He handed the shopkeeper the coins and thanked him.
"But, Ian—"
He gripped her shoulders and looked into her wide eyes. “'Tis my gift to you, little one. I wish for you to remember me when you return home,” he said.
She smiled softly. “I could never forget you."
He brushed his finger across her cheek, resisting the desire to kiss her. He knew it would take the last of his willpower and he would be lost. “Nor I you."
They left the store and found the man Ian had heard was a fine horse trader. He felt confident he would make some passing good deals with the fellow in the future, but had difficulty concentrating on much of anything with Jenny hesitantly wandering the stables, so he politely declined doing any business at the moment.
They wandered the city till nearly sunset before returning to the inn. Jenny bought all sorts of things, clothing mostly, an odd text here and there, but she was happy with her purchases.
After a quick bite they all retired early so they could get a decent night's rest before leaving at first light. Ian, however, wasn't happy with the way Jenny continued to look at him. Her eyes were nigh burning his skin. It was maddening!
He escorted her to her room and tossed the bundle of frippery she'd purchased on the bed. “Cease your constant examination of my form! Your eyes have plagued me from the moment you put on those bloody spectacles, and I cannot bear it any longer."
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was staring. I—you—it's just that—” She planted her fists on her hips. “Why did you kiss me?” Pacing across the floor, she shook her head. “I've gone over it and over it, but nothing computes. The first time was to create a distraction for the guards at the fountain,” she said, ticking the incidents off on her fingers.
"The third was the same, to satisfy Mr. Dougal and the others that we were a happily married couple. But the second makes no sense whatsoever. Now that I can see you, really see you, I've been racking my brain over why. Your type is drawn to beautiful women, and beautiful women are drawn to you."
She crossed her arms and peered at him through those dreadful spectacles. “It simply isn't logical. I don't fit into that equation."
His irritation waned with her words. The woman had no inkling of her beauty or his overwhelming desire for her. It was a rare thing to find someone so utterly without artifice, and it made her all the more tempting.
"'Twas you who kissed me, sweeting,” he said, hiding his grin.
"I did not!” He raised a brow at that blatant lie. “Well, maybe a little, but you took over,” she said, shaking her finger at him. “You were in complete control. You could've stopped at any time. Now answer the question."
"No theories?"
"A few,” she said with a curt nod. “At first I considered it to be an automatic response due to the proximity of our bodies, but I dismissed that, because you have shown a unique ability to ignore the overt advances made by that farm girl and others here at the inn. Regardless of the fact that you've told them we're married, it isn't true, so there should be no reason for you to not—you know,” she said, waggling her fingers in the air. “But you haven't."
"Really? And you are certain of this?” This was a most interesting development. How could she not know how much he desired her? But it was to come to naught, he reminded himself.
Her gaze danced about the room, lighting on everything but him. “I asked Michael,” she admitted beneath her breath.
Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the wall and watched her, fascinated by the shades of red flushing her pale skin. “Ah, well he is an honest man."
She jerked her head around, those large brown eyes framed by those horrid spectacles pinned him in place. “If you were in need of—if you needed to—"
"If I needed to what?” he asked, shamefully enjoying her consternation.
She lifted her chin at a jaunty angle. “You haven't answered my question."
"I am surprised you have yet to uncover the truth, as I know your mind to be quick. ‘Tis verily simple,” he chuckled.
"I don't find this humorous."
"Oh, but I do. I find it most humorous."
She threw up her arms and spun around. “Oh forget it. I've more important things to concentrate on other than—than—"
"Sex?"
She glared at him over her shoulder. “I was going to say, you.” Yanking the items from the bundle, she grumbled. “You probably only kissed me because of some dream you were having. Likely about that farm girl or one of many others. An overactive imagination,” she said, pointing at him with a fist full of small clothes. “That's what you have. An overactive imagination and an overactive libido.” She shoved the garments into her traveling bag. “You probably would've kissed your horse if I hadn't been handy."
Ian crossed the room and twirled her around. Cupping her flushed cheek, he slid his arm around her and pressed her to him. “The only overactive imagination here is yours, little one,” he said as his mouth descended on hers.
She trembled, as he tasted the edges of her lips, begging her to open to him. On a sigh, she bade him enter, and into pleasant oblivion he went. She dropped the clothes, letting them fall where they may, and wrapped her arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss.
He'd thought of nothing but kissing her, touching her, feeling her shapely body pressed to his, the torment nearly his undoing. Then with her constant scrutiny, he could take no more. She did not know how her eyes more than studied him, they consumed him, heated his desire for her to near unbearable heights.
Reluctantly, he lifted his head. Her deep brown eyes were open to mere slits and a faint smile played at the corner of her lush mouth.
"Now do you know why I kissed you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, and I don't care,” she replied breathlessly. “Just kiss me again."
Never one to disappoint a lady, he nibbled at her lips then followed a delicious path along her cheek to her neck. Her long locks fell from the poorly arranged coif and he buried his nose in the mass. The rosewater she'd rinsed her hair with still clung to the tresses and her skin.
"Ian?” she whispered.
"Hmm?” he nibbled along her neck and relished her sigh of pleasure.
"Am I really imagining things?"
He lifted his head and looked at her worried frown. “What do you think you are imagining? My touching you? Tasting you?” he asked with a quick lick at her lips. “The feel of my desire pressing against your soft flesh?"
She shook her head and swallowed deeply. “Am I imagining that there's more to this than just sex?"
Ian sobered rather quickly at that and placed a small bit of space between them as he considered the possibility. Was there more? More than an insatiable desire to bed the woman? One he'd been living with for days upon days?
"The truth please,” she said, her eyes no longer heavy with desire. “Not what you think I want to hear."
He searched the depths of her large eyes. The fear of rejection, the insecurity. He had taken this too far.
"I-I'm not saying that we aren't going to—” she stammered. “I mean, I want to, but I just need to know—"
"Hush, sweeting,” he said, and pressed a kiss to her brow then cradled her head beneath his chin while holding her tight. He had made love to many women, but he was a gentleman, and he would not trifle with a lady. A virgin, to be precise. And although Jenny Maxwell was from a different time, she was very much a lady. How many times on this insane trip had he reminded himself of that fact? Apparently not enough.
She sighed heavily, warming his chest with her breath. “I ruined it, didn't I?” she asked, her fingers toying with his lacings.
How does one tell a woman that he cannot bed her? He'd never faced such a problem before, having been able to avoid such situations without much difficulty in the past. But thrown together on this journey, he had nearly succumbed to his desires.
"Nay, little one,” he said, and stroked her fair cheek, hoping the right words would come to him.
Her sweet lips turned down at the corners. “You know it might help if you'd quit calling me that. In case you've failed to properly ascertain my age, I am twenty-eight years, three months, four days, and...” she glanced at her time piece hidden beneath her sleeve on her wrist. “Eighteen point two hours old. I am not a child.” Her lips turned down further as she cocked her head to the side in thought. “Come to think of it, I'm beyond the marrying age for this century, firmly on the shelf, well passed my prime—"
Ian crushed her full lips with his, happily cutting her off in mid-sentence. He did so enjoy interrupting her, it riled her well and true, setting off wondrous sparks in her eyes and brought a flush to her skin. Unfortunately, this new tactic was not helping his current situation.
Moving to her neck, a most delectable spot, he nibbled while he spoke. “I call you little one, not because I think of you as a child, but because you are a dainty, delicate morsel, sweet and soft, and pure. A temptation I find very hard to resist.” But resist he would. This is as far as they would go, albeit he would suffer for hours. Nay, days.
"Oh,” she sighed, melting against his body. “In that case I won't complain about the nickname anymore. But it isn't very accurate,” she said with a soft moan.
"Nay.” He moved to her ear and sucked the lobe into his mouth. “You are sweet, I can taste you. And you are soft,” he said, gently cupping her breast in one hand while exploring the curve of her hip with the other. “I can feel you."
She moaned and pressed her breast more firmly into his hand. “But I'm not pure."
Ian fell still for a moment then lifted his head. “What did you say?"
She blinked rapidly and opened her mouth several times before she found the words. “I'm—I'm not a virgin. I assume that's what you meant by pure."
His mouth hung agape, while her beautiful face twisted with concern.
"Does it matter that much?” she asked, her brow pinched. “I mean I know that in this century virginity is important, prized, actually, but in mine it's different. Most people, well, not that I do, but others—” She planted her fists on her hips and scowled at him. “I only did it once, okay? I'm in the minority, if you must know. Eighty-eight percent of women my age engage in pre-marital sex and with more than one partner."
She held up her finger and waved it at him. “One, I had one partner and did it one time.” She dropped the offending digit and cocked her head to the side. “I realize that it only takes once to lose my virginity, and it wasn't all that great, either,” she added under her breath. “But it happened and I can't undo it,” she said with a firm nod as she crossed her arms.
Lord, he did so love the way her mind worked. She couldn't stop with a simple yes or no. A full and often detailed explanation burst forth from her regardless of the circumstances.
"Are you laughing at me?” she asked, fury building in her eyes.
"Nay, sweeting,” he snatched her up before she fully lost her temper and kissed her.