Susana and the Scot (27 page)

Susana bristled. The last thing she needed was Isobel learning more bad words.

“Why, you…” the bastard growled, and he reached for Isobel, but she scampered out of reach and across the room, throwing herself onto the sofa at Papa's side.

Papa curled one arm around her in a protective manner, and then brushed at her hair, as though hoping to remove any remnant of Scrabster's touch.

“I think it's time you left,” Andrew suggested in a frosty tone, and when Scrabster snarled at him, he drew his sword. The steel hissed as it left the scabbard.

“I agree,” Susana said. “Keir, will you see Laird Scrabster out?”

Keir nodded and took Scrabster's arm. As he tugged him into the hall, Scrabster warbled, “Mark my words, girlie. You will regret this.”

He continued to bellow his outrage as Keir led him from the castle. When his voice had faded, Susana whirled on Andrew. “I cannot stand that man.”

“I concur.” He sheathed his sword.

“Imagine the gall. Coming here. Threatening me. Intimating that without a husband I canna protect my daughter.”

Papa grunted; Susana frowned at him. “You agree with Scrabster?”

“Nae. I doona. But you must admit, if you had a husband, he would probably stop offering for you.”

Well, that silenced her impending tirade. It was true. No doubt it was true. She flicked a look at Andrew and then refocused her attention on her father. “A woman doesna marry for those reasons.”

Papa sighed. “And for what reason does a woman marry? Because I've been wondering.”

Isobel kicked her legs. “A woman marries when she falls in love.”

“Nonsense.” There was no such thing as love.

Isobel ignored her. She continued ticking reasons off on her fingers. “A woman marries when she finds a man she likes to kiss. A woman marries when she wants to have babies. A woman marries when she doesna want to be alone anymore…”

Susana ignored the fact that all those reasons applied to herself.

“A woman marries when the right man asks her.”

She rubbed at her face. “Isobel, isn't there something you'd rather be doing?”

“Aye. But I canna go outside by myself.”

Papa grinned at her. “What do you say to a visit to the library?” His gaze flickered to her bow in a meaningful way and Isobel's grin blossomed. He winked at Susana as he led her daughter away. Lord knew what mischief the two of them might get up to, but at least Isobel would be in safe hands. And she seemed to have accepted her restrictions.

“Are you all right?” Andrew asked. His hand was warm, comforting as he stroked her back. She leaned into his strength.

“Aye. But that man is so…”

“Aggravating?”

“That's one word for it. Can you believe the nerve of that man?”

“Indeed. As though you would marry
him
.”

She rather liked the way he spat that. “I was talking about his veiled threats. That without him, my people are no' safe. My daughter isna safe. And did you see the way he touched her?”

“If you like, I could follow him and chop off the offending hand.”

She peeped up at him. “Would you do that? For me?”

He chuckled. “Indeed, I would.”

“How romantic.” She nestled closer, enjoying their banter. Somehow, it calmed her. Of course, that could be the weight of his arms around her, or the drugging skim of his palm on her back.

“I would do anything to keep you safe, Susana. I'm here to protect you and Isobel, no matter what.”

She didn't respond. Couldn't. Something clogged her throat.

It might have been her heart.

*   *   *

Andrew sprawled on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and aching. With the recent threats to Isobel, he knew he wouldn't have a chance to be with Susana for the foreseeable future, unless they met for trysts like the one in the study today. That had been incredible. As he thought of it, it didn't take long for his hand to drift down under the covers and start stroking his cock.

He closed his eyes and thought about her—her eyes, her hair, her tempting thighs—as his hand moved in a familiar rhythm.

With his passion high and his release nigh, the knock on the door was inconvenient.

He considered ignoring it, but only for a moment. Something could have happened. Susana might need him.

The knock came again, more insistently.

“One moment,” he called as he tugged on his breeks.

Whoever it was, was not patient. Another series of raps issued forth before he could cross the room. He flung open the door. “What is it—?”

His words stalled in his throat. Susana, draped in a cloak, hovered in the hallway.

He gaped at her.

She was the last person he'd expected. Tonight. In a cloak.

Inexplicably, she glared at him as she slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. Her brow furrowed. “Well, for pity's sake, what took you so long? I could have been seen.” Her voice was sharp. Sharper than it should have been for a late-night visit like this.

He waved at the bed. “I was … um … Susana? What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.” She untied her cloak and swung it off, draping it over a chair.

“Why did you wear a cloak?” Indoors?

“I was skulking.”

He couldn't stop his lips from tweaking. “Skulking?”

“Aye. I needed to see you.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her smile was wicked. Ah. There it was. “I
needed
to see you.”

God, he needed to see her, too. But he didn't sweep her into his arms as he wanted to. Not yet. “And Isobel?” For some reason, he needed the reassurance that she was all right before he could relax.

“She's fine. She's sleeping. She insisted on staying in her own room tonight.”

“That is promising.”

“Aye.”

“But we should set a guard.”

“I already have. One of yours and one of mine, in fact.” She stepped into his arms and tipped back her head so she could smile at him. When her groin nudged his, she frowned and wriggled against him. “What is this?”

“Do you no' know?”

“I have an idea.” Her brows furrowed. “Why are you so hard?”

He considered his options—and the interest in her eyes—and decided he should tell her the truth. “I was thinking of you.”

Her lashes fluttered. “Are you always hard when you think of me?”

“Usually.”

“I want to see.” Though he protested, she pushed him back toward the chair by the fire. He sat with a thud and she knelt between his knees. Now, he should have stopped her—indeed, he intended to—but she reached for the placket of his breeks, opened them, and found his cock. And when she took it in her hands and stroked it as she studied it, he found himself unable to protest at all.

“It's verra hard.”

He shuddered as she drew a questing finger around the thick head and then traced the fat vein along his length.

“And verra soft.” He shivered as she wrapped her hand around him and gave him a tentative pump.

“Ah, Susana. You'd better not,” he said.

Her enthusiastic expression crumpled. “Do you no' like this?”

“I like it verra much, but I'm … God, doona do that.” He lurched as she began tickling his balls.

“Why not?”

He took her by the shoulders and then, upon second thought, caged her wrists. “Because I have been
thinking
about you,” he said meaningfully. “For a while.”

Her eyes went wide, as though she didn't understand. He sighed. “Didn't your husband … touch himself sometimes?”

She blinked up at him. “I … I doona know.” She glanced at his lap. “Were you touching yourself?”

He ignored her question. “You doona
know
?” How could a wife not know? Especially if she and Gilley had shared a bed …
If
they'd shared a bed. He narrowed his gaze on her. For a woman who had been married, she did seem rather ignorant of the ways of men.

Her chin firmed. She took hold of him again and countered with, “Were you touching yourself?”

“Aye.”

“I want to see.”

He gaped at her. “Susana…”

“Please, Andrew. Show me. I want to see.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He wasn't sure if it was a result of his embarrassment or his desire. Or if it mattered in the least. “Susana, I want to make love to you.”

“Show me first.”

He sighed. “If I show you, it may be the end of me. I willna be able to make love to you … and I'd really rather make love to you.”

She issued a snort. “Do you no' have any self-control?”

He snorted right back. “Nae.” Not with her, he didn't. “You are a verra beautiful woman, Susana. I find myself lacking in any kind of control around you.”

Her lips curled. “I'm sure you can hold back.”

“I doona know from where you have acquired this foolish confidence in me.”

“Just show me a little.”

“All right.” He closed his eyes—because looking at her would surely incite disaster—and began to polish his knob. He did it slowly, because he couldn't bear to move quickly.

He flinched when a whisper skated over the head of his cock. His eyes flew open and he
eep
ed.
No! Please God, no!

That something was her breath, warm and damp.

He hissed as her mouth closed over him. Of their own accord his eyes closed, his head fell back. Heaven and hell rained down on him as she sucked the tip of his cock. “Susana.
Please.
”

She released him with a plop. “You can hold back,” she whispered. “You're a big, strong man,” She punctuated each word with a heinous pump.

“I canna.”

“You can. And you will.” The words were infused with an imperious tone that sent shivers through him. Her fist began moving faster, her mouth retook him, sucking him in.

Agony coiled at the base of his balls. Need rose within him, blinding and savage.

“Susana.” A plea.

She only tightened her grip. She added a little twist to each pass. Took him deeper, until her hand met her mouth, until she had him fully encased in one or the other. And then she sucked.

Insanity swelled. Bliss and glory and excruciating pleasure exploded within him, flooded his heart and mind and soul, as he released into her mouth.

He didn't intend to, God help him he didn't intend to, but she was far more woman than he could ever resist.

He gazed down at her as she lapped at her lips—and damned if that didn't stir his ardor again. “Why did you do that?” he asked. He was certain there was no petulance in his tone.

Her smile was as satisfied as the cat that got the cream. “Because I wanted to know.”

“Know what?”

“Know what you taste like.”

A thousand questions spun in his head—including the most prominent:
Had she ever done that for Gilley?
—but he settled for, “What did you think?”

“What did I think?”

“Aye.” He swallowed heavily, waiting for her response on bated breath. Though this was not what he'd intended to happen, he had enjoyed it immensely.

“I think you are delicious.” Her expression lit a flame in his belly. “And I think I would verra much like to do that again sometime.”

Though she'd drained him utterly, his cock stirred.

God help him.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The scorching look in Andrew's eyes stole Susana's breath. He closed the placket of his breeks and took her hand. He helped her to her feet and then stood beside her, staring down at her face. His attention locked on her lips, and he kissed her. It was a slow, sweet, delicious kiss that made her knees shake.

“Come.” He tugged her hand, leading her to the bed.

“I should go,” she said, but only because she thought she should.

He chuckled. The sound rounded the room. “Do you really think I'm going to let you go? After that?”

“But…” What more could they do? She had finished him.

“Hush.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her face. His thumb traced her mouth in a warm trail. “Hush.”

When he guided her down onto the mattress, she allowed it. His expression made clear he had plans for her, plans she would greatly enjoy. But he didn't join her. Instead, he did what he'd done once before, easing off one slipper and then the other. A memory, a shudder racked her.

He sat on the bed at her feet and nibbled on her toes, her ankle, her calf. He licked his way up her thighs, nudging up her skirts as he moved. He did it slowly, with an agonizing thoroughness, not missing so much as a spot.

It seemed to take forever for him to reach the nubbin throbbing between her legs. She stiffened as he touched her, but he did it so lightly, it made her want to scream.

“What are you doing?” she asked, surely not with impatience.

“What do you think?” He opened her, gazed down at her, blew on her with a soft breath.

The juxtaposition of his cool breath and the heat of her core sent sensation and arousal careening through her. She was already damp. Already ready for him, but his slow seduction ratcheted up her tension. She wriggled a little, hoping to encourage him to move more quickly.

He did not.

He dipped his head—she caught her breath—but it was only to place a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh. His hands, broad and warm, skimmed across her hip, sending ripples over her skin.

She spread her legs, just slightly, and only to encourage him.

He pushed her hem up farther and kissed her stomach. All the while he toyed with her curls, almost touching her—almost really touching her—but not quite.

She arched up into his caress and he pulled back with a smile.