A Hellion at the Highland Court (The Highland Ladies #9) - Celeste Barclay Page 0,30

before she nodded. “My point is, I don’t want you to think—fear—that I will treat you like that again, especially not in public. I humiliated myself, but I embarrassed you in the process. I’m sorry.”

“I ken, my wee cluaran,” Brodie murmured before he brushed a kiss against Laurel’s lip. Clu-air-an. She is ma wee thistle.

Laurel’s face softened as she nodded. “Thank you, Brodie.”

“Will you join the other ladies?” Brodie asked tentatively, but Laurel shook her head.

“I think I should let the fire run its course and not add fuel to it.”

“Laurie, will you let me accompany you to the evening meal? My men and I have sat with Monty and his men since we arrived. You haven’t eaten with us once. Do you not wish to see them?”

Laurel gritted her teeth, and Brodie frowned. In two questions it seemed he’d lost any ground he’d gained. He wondered which one ruined his progress. He had his answer to his surprise.

“I would appreciate you walking me the Great Hall, but I will not sit with my brother.”

“Would you sit with me?”

“Do you intend to sit with him?”

“I had.”

“Then I won’t.” Laurel crossed her arms and shook her head. She could only imagine how petulant she appeared. “You said we shouldn’t linger here.”

“And I also said there is more to be said,” Brodie reminded her. “Laurel, we can’t sit together at the evening meal without your brother as a chaperone. We both know that.”

“And I cannot sit with him at the evening meal without stabbing him.”

“Bloodthirsty and tart,” Brodie mused.

“He knew aboot the wager, Brodie. You both did. Neither of you tried to ensure people wouldn’t believe Liam and Nelson.” Laurel sighed and shook her head again. “I don’t think sitting with you would be wise. None of this was wise.”

Laurel’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. She spun on her heel and took the steps two at a time. “You did this, all of this, to win.” Brodie seized her around the waist and hoisted her off her feet, tired of worrying she would fall down the stairs each time she moved. “Put me down!”

Once on the landing, Brodie put Laurel back on her feet and reared away from her scornful expression. The loathing that poured from her eyes was enough to make Brodie doubt why he was pursuing the woman. But behind the anger, he saw the hurt and fear.

“This has naught to do with a bet. If it were only aboot a bet, could I feel this way?” Brodie backed Laurel against the wall and swooped in for a kiss that made the previous one seem like an innocent peck. He was persistent and aggressive, but Laurel opened to him without hesitation. Her hands fisted in his leine, tugging him toward her, told him she was a willing participant. He was certain he would devour her, his hunger to touch and taste her verging on the irrational.

Laurel Ross sparked something within Brodie that he never suspected he’d feel. He’d lusted for women in the past, but he’d rarely taken more than a passing interest in anything beyond the physical. He’d pleasured his lovers, but he had never envisioned those women as equal partners; mostly he had performed to ensure the satisfied woman returned the favor. With Laurel, he wanted to watch her come alive, to give her passionate nature an avenue that wasn’t so self-destructive.

Laurel was certain she would float away on a cloud if Brodie’s body weren’t pressing her against the brick wall. She returned his kiss with abandon, the excitement of their touch surpassing even the wildest ride across the rolling hills of Ross territory. Brodie’s hands roaming over her body caused her skin to prickle as the nerves over-fired, and a throbbing ache settled low in her belly. She’d seen more than one couple locked in amorous embraces while living in Stirling Castle, but never had she dreamed she might experience it herself. Brodie’s allure tempted her toward all the hedonistic sins she could imagine but given up years earlier, and she hoped there were ones he could introduce that were well beyond her knowledge. When he pushed his sporran aside, and his length rested against her mons, her moan was foreign to her ears, but the vibration in her chest told her where it originated.

“If this were aboot a mere bet, would I want to rip every thread from ye, and sink into ye until I bellowed ye name in delight?” Brodie panted. “Would I