enjoy following ye a great deal.”
He sounded like a boy—a naughty, mischievous one, at that. “I run fast.”
“So do I, but I confess that I just might slow up enough to trail behind ye for a good long while if ye’re planning to run as ye are.” His gaze swept down her bare length. “Nude.”
“Stop your playing.” She reached for the turned-down covers. But her husband taunted her by lying down across them. She suddenly felt on display, and drew her knees up to conceal her breasts.
“Dinnae do that. Ye are stunning, Helena.”
He sat back up and hooked his fingers into his shirt. The collar was already open, allowing him to pull the garment over his head with one smooth motion. The unveiling of his skin captured her attention, drawing her thoughts away from her own modesty. He was covered in muscle—hard ridges of it ran over his chest. Dark hair coated the wide expanse, trailing down to where his kilt covered him. His belt was undone but still lying around his waist. Her cheeks colored when she realized that he’d unbuckled it while she was lost in admiring his chest. But he’d left his kilt in place to avoid spooking her.
The fact that he felt she needed coddling annoyed her. She realized that she didn’t want to lie back and be taken. Ideas swirled through her mind, touching off demands from her body. Keir watched her, his dark eyes focused on her. But his hand was gripping the covers beneath his hand.
“Go on.” Her voice had turned husky.
He raised one dark eyebrow. Helena sat up, facing him. She kept her arms down, so that her breasts were fully visible.
“I’m not a coward.”
“I didna think ye were.” His expression turned hard. “But there is no reason to rush.”
“If you are so relaxed, why are you twisting the bedding?”
His fingers tightened even more. “Because I’m trying not to pounce on ye.”
Helena laughed. Keir looked perplexed by her amusement, but he was not annoyed. Confusion covered his face and she shrugged.
“Men do not pounce.”
“Maybe nae in England. But be very sure that I am a Scot, lassie.”
His voice had deepened, along with his brogue. It was the only warning she received. A mountain of muscle surged toward her, the bed swaying beneath her back as he pinned her down.
“We Scots tend to be a wee bit more physical.”
“I…see…that.”
She turned her head from side to side, completely overwhelmed by the contact of skin on skin. His chest pressed against her torso, covering her. But he caught most of his weight on his elbows, leaving just enough to send need coursing through her.
“I was hoping to be able to prove it to ye. One touch at a time.” His lips grazed the side of her throat. She quivered, never having suspected that one kiss might cause such a riot of feeling.
“But I’m a selfish man. Impatient it seems, too.”
“What?” His words confused her. Speaking annoyed her. She turned her head to lock stares with him.
“I want yer hands on me. I swear I’ll wait all night if that’s what it takes for ye to relax enough to touch me like ye were in the carriage.”
Her hands moved up his arms instantly. She didn’t think about it—she didn’t need to. His eyes narrowed with enjoyment, and as she stroked up to his shoulders, she watched the way his face reflected his delight.
“I did that after you kissed me.”
“Och well, if I’d done that again, waiting would be out of the question.” His voice was playful but she saw a contradiction in his eyes. Passion burned there and it touched off an answering hunger deep in her belly.
“I agree.” Her lower lip was dry. She licked it and froze when his eyes moved to follow the tip of her tongue.
“Do that again.” His voice sounded strained, as if his control was being tested. “On second thought, allow me.”
He leaned down, closing the distance between them. She suddenly felt as if she had waited forever for his kiss—had, in fact, been anticipating it since the moment the carriage arrived at the palace.
It was worth the wait.
His mouth teased hers, the tip of his tongue sweeping across her lower lip. Sweet delight rippled down her body, igniting the hunger he’d left her with earlier. There was no question about it. Passion rose hot and thick to claim her back into its grasp. The hair on his chest felt good against her skin. She noticed how hard he was