too tempting to ignore. I waited in silence as the housekeeper poured the dark brown liquid into a delicate china cup, placed it on a matching saucer, and handed it to me. She repeated the process for Ian. After asking if there would be anything else, she discreetly left the room.
“Is everything all right at home?” he asked.
I sipped my coffee. “I don’t know. No one was there.”
He frowned. “Do your parents normally call you when you visit Scotland?”
I shook my head. “Never. I’m not always sure when I’ll be in. I usually call them every Sunday night.”
“Why don’t we call Kate and ask if your father mentioned where they might be?”
“I don’t think that would help,” I replied. “My father is a lawyer, Ian. He doesn’t leave anything to chance. If it was important that I know where they were, he would have left a specific message.” I looked up to meet his worried expression. His concern had a reassuring affect on me. I smiled. “Thank you for caring, but I’m sure nothing is seriously wrong. He would have told Kate if it was a real emergency.”
He looked relieved. “If you’re sure—”
“Very sure,” I said firmly. “I’m curious, nothing more.”
We left the dining room, and Ian reached for my hand. “There’s a comfortable sitting room at the other end of the house,” he said. “It even has a television.”
I looked up into the sculpted perfection of his face. What I saw there stopped my breath. It was surprising that I recognized it at all. I had seen it only once before in the last several years and that was yesterday on the riverbank. It was the look of a man in need and hungry—for me.
When my heart resumed its beating, I answered him. “It sounds wonderful, but do we really need a television?”
He grinned and slid his arm around my waist. “Follow me.”
The sitting room was as modern as my mother’s California living room. The twin sofas were large with plush, comfortable pillows and stylish upholstery. Recessed lighting gave the room a cozy glow. A sleek wooden coffee table in front of the fireplace carried copies of popular magazines.
Ian dimmed the lights and lit the fire while I sat on the couch and thumbed through a copy of a women’s magazine not sold in America. Soon he joined me and, as naturally as if he’d done it every day of his life, pulled my head against his shoulder, and kissed me.
Who can explain why one particular man instinctively knows the secret of setting a woman’s body aflame when another can try time after laborious time and never quite get it right?
Ian’s hands moved across my skin like a concert pianist, while his lips and tongue played havoc with the dips and scooped-out hollows of my cheeks, my throat, the curves of my breasts, and the sensitive spot where my neck and shoulder met. I couldn’t stop the moan of sheer animal pleasure when he pressed me back against the pillows and covered my body with his. He was lean and hard and warm and beautiful, and I wanted him with a desperation completely unfamiliar to me. Shamelessly I encouraged him, urging him on with words and gestures I would never have imagined myself capable of before this night. My body took on a life of its own, moving and opening with wanton abandon under the sensual, drugging magic of his skilled hands and seeking lips.
“My God, Christina,” he said and surged inside me. He stiffened, and I could feel the cords stand out on his neck. “I’m sorry, darling,” he gasped, “but I can’t wait any longer.” At his first swollen thrust, my pleasure peaked. Sensation consumed me and for the first time in thirty-seven years, I came to know the meaning of the words white hot and rocking waves of passion.
Later, when the fire was nearly out and Ian’s chest moved in the steady rhythm of the nearly unconscious, I lifted my head from his shoulder and asked the question I had wanted to ask since yesterday on the riverbank. “Why do you know so much about my family history?”
His eyes flew open, and for the barest instant I could feel resistance in the sudden tightening of his arms. Then he relaxed and settled my head back into the hollow of his shoulder. I held my breath, hoping that this time he wouldn’t put me off. My patience was rewarded.
“You’ll think I’m mad,” he muttered.
I lifted my head