“About making love to my mother?”
“Nay, ye daftie,” Alistair reprimanded with a chuckle. “About love.” He remembered what Da had said about the lasting kind of love, about caring for a woman who made him laugh and kept him in line, and Alistair wondered if that’s what he’d been lucky enough to find with Lara. “About forever.”
She was quiet for a long moment, but her grip on his hand tightened. Finally, she said, “Are ye sure ye dinnae want to discuss love-making?”
“Why?”
She pulled him to a stop. “Because this is the entrance to my chamber. We ken my mother willnae bother us for the rest of the night, and there’s a big, comfortable bed on the other side of this door.”
Chuckling, he reached for her. This kiss wasn’t hard and fast, but slow and sweet. Her arms went around his neck, and she was playing with the hair on the back of his head by the time he pulled away.
“Is that answer enough, love?” he murmured.
“Nay, but this is.” She ground her pelvis against his hardening manhood, proving she knew exactly what she wanted. “Ye’ll have to tell me, in detail, yer answer. Once we’re inside.”
She pulled away and began feeling along the wall.
With raised brows he watched her, expecting her to be able to pull the door open as simply as she did with the one to the solar.
“So? When can we get inside?”
“Just as soon…” With a grunt, she lifted herself up on her toes, stretching for the top of the door. “Damnation! I cannae reach it.”
Curious now, he placed the candle on the floor and stepped up behind her. “What is it?”
“My mother worries for me, ye ken.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, Lara turned, practically in his arms. “Years ago, she had my brother install a latch on this side of the door, to make it harder for someone to enter the room from the passages. She kens where ‘tis, and it made her feel better about leaving me alone, I think.”
He hummed and stretched up to feel along the top of the jamb, but she stopped him.
“Nay, I ken where ‘tis, let me.”
“Aright.” This was simple. He bent his knees, reached down, and wrapped his arms around her hips.
She squealed when he lifted her up, then laughed as—with a grunt—he shifted his grip lower. When he was ready, his arms were around her thighs, her soft stomach was level with his mouth, and her head towered over his.
Still giggling, she directed him toward the jamb. “Just a little farther. Just— There! Hold on.”
“Oh, I’m holding,” he murmured against her belly. Was it his imagination, or was she growing warmer? His lips were so close to her core, and he wondered if she was aching as much as he was.
“Push me a little closer— Oh!”
She must’ve become over-balanced because they both began to tip to one side. He scrambled and ended up catching her half-over his shoulder.
Laughing, he swung her around until she rested in his arms.
“What are ye giggling about?” she demanded, squirming.
“Giggling? A man doesnae giggle. He laughs. Occasionally chuckles. Guffaws even. On verra rare occasions, he might chortle, but ‘tis nae something we talk about in polite company.”
She was smiling. “Fine. Why are ye laughing then?” She poked his chest. “And ye can put me down.”
“I’m laughing, love, because ‘tis been an odd sennight. For some reason, my twin brother keeps trying to catch me unawares and drop things on my head as I walk through doorways.”
She lifted a brow. “Kiergan is a jokester, I suppose.”
“Aye,” he drawled, lifting her higher, until he could press his lips against his hair. “But I was just thinking that, of all the things which have threatened to be dropped on my head”—a bucket of water, a plate of tarts, a goat—“ye are by far my favorite.”
Chuckling now, she slapped his shoulder. “Ye make a lass feel appreciated, Alistair.”
“Good,” he murmured, dragging his lips to her temple. “Because I have some other ideas on how to make ye feel appreciated.”
He heard her catch her breath. Her, “Do ye now?” sounded a bit strangled.
“Did ye find the latch, lass?”
Mutely, she nodded.
Good.
He pushed the door open with his foot and, still carrying her, stepped into her chamber. It looked the same as it had the last time he was here, and St. Elzear help him, but the memory of that night had him somehow growing even harder.
He dropped her on the bed—she was as breathless as he was—and stalked back to the passageway to scoop up the candle. When he stepped back into the room and pulled the door closed, she was watching him with wide eyes.
Smiling wolfishly, he crossed to the door, placing the candle on the bedside table as he passed, and engaged the lock on that one as well.
There. Now they would not be disturbed.
He turned back to her and found her gaze glued to the front of his kilt. Even better.
“Lara,” he began, in a low voice, “do ye recall how ye taught me about giving up control?”
Her pink tongue dragged across her lower lip as she lifted her gaze to his. “Aye,” she breathed.
“Ye were right. I’ve never felt as free as I have since I learned that.” His orgasms since then were the most intense, most incredible of his life. Or mayhap it had been because of her. “I’ve found myself craving that feeling again.”
Slowly, her lips curled upward. “Then we should continue to practice. Take off yer clothes.”
That feeling, that freedom, coursed through him. ‘Twas like a weight being lifted from his shoulders when he gave her the control. He was happy to let her lead.
“Gladly,” he growled, then reached for his belt.
Chapter 11
Lara knew she should probably be taking her own clothing off, but watching Alistair was such a treat, she couldn’t turn away. She loved how the muscles in his thighs bunched as he bent to remove his boots, and when he jerked his shirt over his
