handle was already beneath his hand, and he eased the door open before he could stop himself. Stepping across the threshold, his jaw dropped. His breath stuttered in his chest at the sight that greeted him, and he couldn’t move. His gaze riveted on Aileanna in her bath. Her lush curves, ful , milky white breasts and satiny smooth skin glistened. If he was a gentleman he’d leave, but he’d warned her before he wasn’t, not with her. He couldn’t pul his eyes from her dusky rose nipples, her narrow waist, or the gentle curve of her rounded hip, even if he wanted to. He was enchanted, bewitched. She drew her long, slender legs toward her as she washed her hair beneath the water.
He should leave before she saw him. Before he could no longer contain the raging heat unfurling in his bel y and kneel at her side to take those jutting nipples into his 152
mouth. Cup her breasts in his hands, knead them, taste every sweet inch of her. His cock throbbed in the tight confines of his trews, begging to be released, to drive into her. He had to get out of there, but as he turned to go the door inexplicably slammed closed. Aileanna emerged from beneath the water, eyes squeezed shut. Her long hair formed a curtain over her breasts; only her nipples peeked through, pebbled, primed for his attention.
“Oh, thank goodness, Mari, I’ve got soap in my eyes. Hand me a towel, please.”
Rory couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her, a pul too great to deny, like a raging thirst needing to be quenched. She rose from the tub and stood but a breath away, so beautiful, so ripe. He could touch her if he dared. Trail his finger alongside the bead of water that dripped from the tip of a rosy bud over her flat stomach to rest in the silky curls at the juncture of her thighs. His fingers itched to stroke her there, to dip inside her moist velvet heat and make her moan in pleasure. Soft sounds he had heard her murmur once before, and had never forgotten. His breathing grew ragged, and his hand hovered above his stiff cock. She reached out blindly and Rory picked up the towel ing from the floor and placed it in her outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” she said as she brought it to her face. “Tel me, has his highness stopped his ranting and raving?” Her words were muffled behind the toweling.
“He has,” he said, his voice thick and low. Ali squealed. Her feet slipped as she tried to leap from the tub holding the towel in front of her. The soap blurred her vision, but she didn’t need her sight to know it was him. His deep smooth voice, his clean masculine scent, and the tingle of awareness she always felt whenever he was in the same room left her with no doubt it was Rory. Big hands, cal oused and strong, gripped her upper LORD OF THE ISLES
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arms to steady her. “Let go.” She pounded on his chest as he hauled her from the tub.
“Shh, lass, you doona’ want to draw a crowd.” His heated breath caressed her ear.
“Why? Because they’d find out their laird spies on women while they bathe?” Her face flamed with the knowledge he’d watched her. The huge bulge pressed tight against her stomach told her so.
“How . . . how long were you standing there?”
Rory exhaled a shaky breath. “Too long. Give me a moment, Aileanna, and I wil apologize as I should.” He didn’t let her go. He took several long, deep breaths and then released her. Taking a step back from her, he ran his fingers through his wavy black hair.
“Close your eyes,” she demanded. He locked his gaze with hers, and Ali’s fingers tightened on the towel that barely covered her naked, damp body from the hunger that glittered in his heavy-lidded gaze.
“Please,” she groaned, afraid if he looked at her like that much longer she’d forget her earlier anger and drop the towel. Give in to the desire to feel his rough hands caress her naked flesh. With determination she pushed the image aside, remind
ing herself of the apology he’d demanded of her earlier, of the risk he took with her safety by not defending her against Moira MacLean’s accusations, and most damning of al —
the fact he intended to marry that woman. No matter how much she wanted him, it would never be enough. She would be nothing more than a means to slake his desire. Ali padded across the floor to the foot of the bed and slipped the delicate chemise she’d laid out before her bath over her head. She wrapped her arms around her waist and turned to face him. Her cheeks heated. “I asked you to close your eyes. Damn you, Rory. For once couldn’t you behave like a gentleman?”
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“I told you, I’m no gentleman, lass.” His voice was rough and he took a step toward her. “Sweet Jesu’ but yer beautiful, Aileanna. I—”
“No . . . no, don’t say anything else. Please, just leave.”
She held up her hand to keep him at bay, her knees weak
ening at the look he raked her body with, wel aware the fine white fabric did little to conceal her from him. With a jerky nod of his head he turned away and strode toward the door.
She cleared her throat. “Rory, what was it you wanted?”
He leaned his forehead against the door and said, “I doona’ remember.”
Chapter 13
Moira’s incessant chatter came to an abrupt end and Rory breathed a sigh of relief, until he saw what drew her attention from him. It was Aileanna, preparing to take her seat by his brother. The image of her in her bath as she rose from the water with pearls of moisture beaded on her lumi
nescent skin, her lush curves, stirred his desire as fiercely as it had only hours before. He pul ed his gaze from her and drew a deep swal ow of his ale in an effort to quench his growing lust.
“Lady Aileanna, ye wil take a seat at one of the other tables. My kin wil be requirin’ that one.” Moira gave an imperious wave of her bejeweled hand. The hard edge in her usual y sweet tone took Rory aback as much as the request.
Iain rose stiffly from his chair and gal antly offered Aileanna his arm. He led her from the dais, her cheeks
