Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,19

having on him. “I came expecting an argument, Graham, but I confess, I rather like having ye at a disadvantage.”

Aye, bare-arse naked was indeed a disadvantage. He clutched the plaid tighter and squeezed his eyes closed. “Vina, if ye dinnae leave now, I cannae be responsible for what happens. Well, I can, but ye tempt a man something fierce, lass.”

“ ’Tis good to ken ye’re still sexually attracted to me.”

“I’ll be dead before I’m no’ sexually attracted to ye.” He opened his eyes just enough to glare at her. “Ye have to ken that. Have ye come to tease me then?”

“Nay, although the idea has merit.” She tapped one perfect finger against her lower lip, that mischievous grin still in place. “I wouldnae mind making ye suffer as I have these last months.”

“Ye’ve suffered?” Mayhap he shouldn’t have blurted out his disbelief like that, judging by how quickly her expression fell to careful blankness. But seeing that response, and unable to halt the flow of bitterness, he stepped closer. “Ye’ve suffered?” he repeated, scoffing. “I’m the one who’s gone seven months without a response to my letters. I’m the one who’s spent the winter trying to convince myself ye were better off without me. Ye didnae even explain why ye decided ye wanted naught more to do with me!”

He had never before been the kind of man to allow emotion to overrule him, but he couldn’t help the way his voice had risen with each accusation, even as her face had paled. Her hand dropped from her mouth to her throat, and he tried not to focus on how innocent and virginal she looked in that white linen she wore.

Her mouth had dropped open, and the beautiful pink lips he ached to taste parted in shock as her eyes widened. Why in damnation was she shocked?

“Well?” he barked, daring her to lie to him, to tell him he had no reason to be angry.

But she shook her head, her mouth opening and closing silently.

Cursing, he took another step closer, until he was within distance to touch her. Although he told himself ‘twas a stupid idea, he reached for her upper arm, his hand curling around her warmth, reminding him how much stronger he was. Resisting the urge to shake her, he reined in his anger and growled, “Well?” again.

She watched him with wide eyes, and when he touched her, she shivered. Not a fearful shiver though, which confused him.

She spread her fingers along her throat, and the motion drew his gaze. As he watched her caress the long, exposed column of her neck, he almost missed her whisper.

“Ye think I havenae written to ye?”

His gaze snapped up to hers, the confusion in her tone too timid to be false.

Holding his gaze, she swallowed. “Graham, I’ve written ye many letters over the last months. Addressed here to Oliphant Castle, and to yer MacVanish cousins, and even to yer university at St. Andrews. Never once did ye respond to my missives.”

For a moment, despite the physical unlikeliness of it all, Graham was certain his heart skipped a beat. A pit opened in his stomach as he loosened his hold on her arm. “What?” he managed to croak.

Her hand rose from her throat and pressed against his chest. “I’ve written to ye. I’ve spent months mourning the loss of the love I thought we shared, since ye couldnae be bothered to respond.”

By St. Luke’s ulna!

Swallowing, he willed himself to let her go, but he couldn’t stop touching her, so he dropped his hand to hers where it rested over his now-pounding heart.

“Lass, truly?” he whispered harshly. “Ye—ye havenae forsaken what we… Our…?”

When she met his eyes, hers were full of unshed tears. “Graham, I thought ye were tired of me. I thought I’d done something wrong. But to learn ye were writing me, even as I was trying to reach ye…?” She shook her head, one fat tear slipping down her cheek. “I thought ye didnae love me any longer.”

In that moment, following the path of that tear down her cheek, Graham stopped carrying his anger and his hurt. “A—a misunderstanding?” he muttered.

“I dinnae ken.” Her whisper was faint, her gaze on his lips. “But I’ve missed ye and mourned ye, and thought I was nae longer worthy—”

Growling, he gave into the urge which had been pushing him since the moment she’d stepped into that room. Using his hold on her hand, he pulled her into his arms, his other hand snaking around