Return of the Scot (Scots of Honor #1) - Eliza Knight Page 0,63

would she be the same. Even the thought of kissing was ruined for her.

Ruined by this devilishly handsome and infuriating duke.

Her hips rolled forward, searching for more of what he was giving, more of the pleasure, more of the… And then it was there, the thing she’d been unwittingly craving and reaching for, breaking her apart inside. Everything came alive then. Every nerve ending on fire and pulsing as her body shook against his kiss.

Lorne slid his mouth along her trembling thigh, coming out from beneath her nightdress, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“How did ye like that kiss?” he asked with a languid wink.

Jaime swallowed, sucked in air, tried to find her voice, and at last said, “In case ye could no’ tell, I liked it verra much.”

He laughed softly, then kissed her. “Ye have no idea how much I want ye right now. Ye’d better get inside before I have my way with ye.”

If his having his way with her was anything like what she’d just experienced, Jaime was half-tempted to let him. He smoothed the skirt of her nightgown back into place and stood, holding out his hand. She took his offered hand and stood, wanting to curl into his body. But they’d dallied long enough, and if her aunt came looking for her, and subsequently found Jaime missing, she’d send out an alarm that woke the whole city.

“I shall come by tomorrow to escort ye for a promenade through the park, Miss Andrewson.”

She snickered at the way he used her formal name after where his mouth had just been.

“And I trust ye’ll be more gentlemanly in broad daylight.” She lifted off his jacket, grateful for the warmth it had provided her, though she suspected with what had just happened, she wouldn’t be cold for a very long time.

“I can no’ make any promises.”

Jaime laughed and then sprinted for the back door. What had she allowed to happen? Goodness, she’d practically made love to Lorne in the garden. And she’d enjoyed every minute of it. Somehow, he’d had more control than she did, stopping before they’d gone any further. And she realized at that moment, that she could trust him. Trust him with her whole life. And she definitely could not trust herself, at least when it came to his kisses.

What would she have done this past week without Lorne here to lean on? They were both victims of their siblings’ nefarious plot. But they were more than partners in unfolding the layers of treachery. They were something deeper.

Being with him brought out all sorts of memories and feelings from before the war, before Shanna had made up the lies about him. Made her remember that she…loved him.

Jaime stilled, a lump in her throat. Her breath was completely gone. Loved him. Aye. That was the rub, wasn’t it? The tragic truth. Knowing her own heart, and even after experiencing what they just had, Jaime still didn’t see how to make this work between them.

Which meant traveling to Ireland together was probably—nay, most definitely—a bad idea. Since they’d been unable to keep their hands off each other every time they’d met the last few days, there was no telling what tempting mischief they’d get up to on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

As she got into her bedchamber, a crack of thunder shuddered the window. And then just as suddenly, rain pelted down, pinging wildly against the glass. Jaime refused to take it as a bad omen, however. For if it were bad, then they would have been rained on in the yard, right?

13

An emergency with one of her ships delayed Jaime from deciding about traveling to Ireland the following day.

She was there working alongside her men to transfer cargo from one ship to another after a mast had been struck by lightning in the storm the night before. The needed repairs threatened to delay the shipping, and that could not happen.

With most of the Andrewson ships commissioned for work, it took some finagling, but Jaime was able’ to configure a different route and schedule with Emilia’s help. Barring any further calamities, it would enable them to be about their business in a timely fashion, with none of her clients dissatisfied.

Jaime’s lady’s maid, Alison, had roused her before dawn to tell her the news of the mast. In a flash, she’d been out of bed, ready to take on the misfortune within a quarter-hour. Her hair was tied up in an untidy knot, and she was wearing