Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,23

eyes so acute, she’d found it hard to breathe.

That night she’d touched herself, imagining what it’d feel like to be held by such a virile, handsome man.

“Aye, yer beauty was the reason I sought ye out the next day, Vina,” he continued in a low voice, “but ‘twas yer sweetness, yer intelligence, yer kindness which caused me to fall in love with ye.”

The MacKinnon keep had a small garden off the kitchens. She’d been there the following morning, enjoying the spring air, when he’d stepped out from the shadows of a young apple tree. His auburn hair had been pulled back at the base of his neck, but she remembered the way the sun had glinted off the highlights, making him seem almost divine.

They’d strolled and talked, and by the time he took his leave, she’d been in love with Graham MacVanish.

Unfortunately, when she introduced him to her grandfather, full of excitement, her hopes had been crushed.

“Those days, getting to ken ye, stealing kisses in the garden and in the marketplace…” That little furrow appeared momentarily, then eased. “I’ve never kenned more peace, Vina. But I kenned yer grandfather had higher hopes for ye than a bastard MacVanish with a doctor’s skills.”

Grandda had yelled and vowed she’d never be wasted on such a man. “But he was ready to betroth me to a bastard Oliphant.”

Graham shrugged. “The Oliphants have more power. I’ll confess there was a time, last summer, after I discovered my true parentage, when I’d hoped ‘twould be enough for yer grandfather to accept my suit.”

“He’s stubborn. Stubborn and unyielding. I wish…”

She sighed, and he squeezed her hand. “Aye?”

“I wish there were a way to…mellow him. Or at least distract him.”

He went still, and slowly, one brow rose. “Distract him?” he murmured.

“Now that we are here at least ‘til Kat’s bairn is born, and now I’ve ken yer feelings havenae changed”—she shrugged—“I will do my best to convince him ye’re the husband for me, but I want time with ye as well. Time to make up for the last months.”

He dropped her hands and lunged for the bedcurtains, pulling them back and allowing the chilly dawn air to swirl around them. From this angle, she had a nice view of his arse, but she craned around him to see what had him so distracted.

“Obviously ye’ve found this room’s entrance to the secret passages.” Still holding back the curtains, he nodded toward the tapestry which hid the door she’d come through the previous night. “Ye remembered the path between our chambers I showed ye last summer?”

In the days before he’d discovered he was actually the son of the Oliphant laird, Graham had lived in the secret passages, avoiding contact with the castle denizens, and mapping out the tunnels.

“I didnae even need to bring a torch,” she told him proudly.

“That’s my lass.” His smile was faint, the merest twitch of his lips, but she preened. “I agree, even kenning our way around the passages willnae buy us the time we want together. We need to distract yer grandfather…and I think I ken just the lady who can do it.”

Davina gasped and sat straighter. “Agatha? Yer aunt?”

“My father’s aunt, my great-aunt. She’s feisty, but apparently turns to mush around yer grandfather.”

“And Grandda couldnae keep his hands off her last night, did ye see? But do ye think she’ll help us?”

Graham dropped the curtains and reached for her. She snuggled contentedly into his arms, knowing the way forward wouldn’t be easy, but they’d be able to face it if they were together. They were both intelligent people, so surely they’d find a way to marry.

As he tugged her into his lap, Graham hummed thoughtfully. The deep reverberation tickled her cheek as she pressed it against his neck, and it reminded her of the way he’d so quickly brought her to climax only a few hours before. She shifted so her lips were against his skin, and her breaths began to quicken.

He anchored his hands on her hips, holding her in place as if afraid she might squirm. Since she’d been considering it—the faint throbbing between her thighs, which had been present since last night, was coming to the forefront again—her lips curled upward.

“Davina,” he growled in warning.

“Aye?” Her whisper tickled him, judging by the way he flinched. “Ye were speaking of yer great-aunt.”

He cleared his throat. “Aunt Agatha has feelings for yer grandda, ‘tis for certes. I dinnae ken if she’d help us, were we to explain it, but we should speak