The Scot's Secret: Border Series Book 4 Read online

  The gown was a heavy one, and Clara had to use both hands to lift the folds as they walked. Kenshire’s hall glowed with so many candles one could hardly tell it was nighttime. It must have cost a fortune.

  Still reeling from the fact that she had blurted out her real name and history to Emma, Clara tried to appear casual as she glanced around the hall.

  No Alex.

  Geoffrey and Sara entered the hall, hand in hand, and she and Emma followed them to the dais. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t disappointed by Alex’s absence. And she refused to ask for him. Instead, she made polite conversation with Emma, trying—and failing—to overhear Geoffrey’s conversation, especially when she heard him say Alex’s name.

  But he was seated too far from her.

  “He hasn’t been seen all evening,” Emma whispered.

  There was no pretending she didn’t know what her friend was talking about.

  “That’s nice,” she said instead. Emma chuckled.

  Her companion’s eyes brightened when the final dish was served.

  “I knew it,” Emma exclaimed.

  The pears were cooked in wine and spiced with cinnamon, and after one bite, Clara had to agree they were quite tasty.

  She tried to concentrate on the delicacy, her companion, and her final days of freedom, but a certain roguishly handsome warrior intruded on her thoughts. . .

  And then he entered the hall.

  Their eyes locked. Clara slowly finished her bite of pear. He moved toward them, freshly washed, looking every bit the second in command of a powerful border clan.

  Provoking him would only cause her more trouble. She shouldn’t do it. But whether it was the wine or something else, Clara knew what she wanted.

  She wanted to be with Alex.

  He’d given her a taste, and she wanted more. Pretending otherwise was for virgin brides with marriage prospects. Or ladies old enough to understand desire but too young to have the chance to act on it. She was neither.

  She’d seen camp ladies flirt, something she was perfectly capable of mimicking. Clara had simply never felt the need to do so. Until now. And so instead of popping the final bite of wine-soaked pear into her mouth, she extended the moment.

  Before picking up the cloth to clean her fingers, she licked the sweetness from them as slowly as possible without being so overt Emma would notice.

  But Alex definitely did.

  Clara never let her eyes leave his, and she knew he’d seen her every move as he stood before the dais. Though he averted his gaze to make his apologies to the lord and lady of Kenshire, a fire had been lit, and Clara prepared herself to get burned.

  His apologies made, Alex walked to the empty seat next to hers—the one reserved for him. Emma admitted to having rearranged their seating earlier, though at the time it had not seemed to matter.

  But he was here now.

  “My lady.” Rather than look at him directly, Clara chanced a glance at Emma, who tried to hide her broad, mischievous smile by starting a conversation with Sara.

  Clara turned to Alex as if she had not a care in the world. “I thought perhaps you were not hungry.”

  His eyes darkened as a servant poured him wine. He nodded his thanks to the cupbearer, seized his cup, and brought it to his lips.

  “Quite the opposite.”

  His look sent a shiver to her very core. The pull that had been there from the start seemed to grow with each passing day.

  Clara refused to look away.

  “Look,” she said, pointing to the servant who walked their way with a tray containing remnants of their earlier meal. “It appears your appetite will be sated soon.”

  They watched the food as it was placed in front of him.

  Alex raised his brows, his lips twitching as if to fight a smile.

  “I can assure you, my lady, this—” he nodded to the food, “—will not help.”

  Clara had caught herself in her own game. She swallowed, remembering what he’d done to her on the beach. Her body remembered too, and tingled in anticipation.

  Alex leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  The tingling sensation grew, demanding her attention. She turned away, but Alex did not relent.

  “I would do it again, a thousand times if you’d let me.”

  Oh God, she should not have started this.

  Alex leaned forward to look across the table, smiling at Lady Sara, who’d glanced their way.

  “Besides—” he leaned back, “—we need to talk.”

  She tried to calm her beating heart.

  “We’re talking now.” She tried to make her voice sound casual, but Clara was sure she’d not succeeded.

  “Nay, love, this is called flirting, not talking.”

  Love.

  “You’re not very subtle,” she chided.

  “I don’t intend to be.”

  With that, he turned his attention to the food before him. Normally, she loved Alex’s directness. But sometimes, namely this evening, it could be a tad off-putting. She supposed she deserved it for setting such a sensual tone.

  “Aren’t they delicious?”

  Emma had posed the question about her beloved pears, but Alex took it upon himself to answer.

  “I haven’t tasted them yet. But I look forward to doing so.”

  His meaning was abundantly clear.

  The very thought made her squirm in her seat.

  When Emma turned away once again, she braced herself. Sure enough, Alex leaned toward her.

  “Aye, love. That is exactly what I meant.”

  Clara’s entire body tensed. She could not endure this any longer.

  “You’re a devil,” she told him, sincerely.

  “To tempt you so? I won’t disagree. But Clara. . . ” He took a bite of roasted duck, chewed it, and sat back, smiling. “You started this.”

  So he had seen her.

  She’d been in complete control, and somehow she’d allowed him to take it from her.

  Clara took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. She concentrated on the retainers finishing their meals and the servants weaving through the packed trestle tables. When she was ready, she leaned toward him once again.

  “Aye, I started it, and when you come to me this night, I assure you that I will finish it.”

  She was proud of how strong her voice sounded, and a quick glance at his face made her burst out laughing. She just couldn’t hold it in.

  The others looked over at them, but Clara couldn’t regain any semblance of decorum. She’d managed to disarm him, and he still had not recovered. He laughed along with her, drawing glances from those in front of them.

  “Your mood seems much improved,” Emma observed.

  “Indeed,” she answered coyly. What else could she say? That she’d just offered her virginity to a man who was not her husband? And if his expression at this very moment were any indication, he’d be taking her offer this time.

  She had nearly killed him tonight.

  He really should open the door. The hallway around Emma’s bedchamber, now occupied by Clara, was isolated. But guards were stationed everywhere, a remnant, Geoffrey had told him, from the days when Sara’s life had been in danger. Alex should not be lingering. . . and yet he was.

  Just open the door.

  He hesitated, thinking about her words.

  “I will finish it.”

  He’d enjoyed seeing this saucy side of Clara. Every day she spent out of her Alfred disguise, she became more and more comfortable with herself. For his part, he thought about her every moment when they weren’t together, which was the exact reason he’d stayed away from the meal. Until he could figure out what their future looked like—he certainly couldn't imagine her back in his command as a squire, and she seemed unwilling to consider marriage—he needed to distance himself.

  In the end, he hadn’t been strong enough to stay away. Cursing himself, he’d hurriedly prepared for dinner—and the
n proceeded to do the exact thing he’d told himself he wouldn’t do. When he saw her eating that pear, it had only taken him a moment to realize that his not-so-delicate Englishwoman was actually flirting with him.

  Where had she learned to do that?

  Being seated next to her hadn’t helped. And then, that comment. He may have deserved it, but the image he’d immediately conjured of her lying naked under him had forced the lightness from their conversation.

  They did need to talk, but this was likely not the best time and place for a discussion about their future. Now that his mother had been found, it was time for him to make decisions. He wanted her to be a part of those decisions since her future was also at stake. He hoped.

  I’ll talk to her tomorrow.

  Almost against his will, his hand pushed the door open.

  Damn.

  He planned on restraint. He’d not dishonor her by taking her virginity. And yet he found himself closing the door and crossing the room in just a few strides. Clara stood in front of the fire, the outline of her shift clearly defining every curve. When she turned, he was lost.

  Alex pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and Clara immediately responded. Their tongues tangled together, his knee separating her legs so they could be even closer.

  There were too many layers between them.

  He tore off his tunic in one easy motion, then lifted the borrowed shift over her head. She didn’t stop him. If this continued, they would make an irreversible mistake.

  Nay, not a mistake. He and Clara had been pulled together from the first by some unnamable force. She tried to cover herself, but he wouldn’t let her. Alex took both of her hands in his, memorizing the perfection in front of him. He’d seen her from afar, but now, standing so close, he was in awe.

  “You’re perfect,” he said, and meant it.

  She hadn’t appeared nervous until that moment. Her mouth lifted at the sides, but Alex reminded himself to slow down. He’d never wooed a virgin before, and this was no ordinary woman. It was Clara.

  As for the consequences, they would face those later. Together.

  He let go of her hands and began to remove the remainder of his clothing. She didn’t turn away this time. Indeed, she watched him so intently that he sprang to life immediately.

  “Um, Alex.”

  Her eyes were so wide, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Trust me, Clara,” he said.

  “Can I. . .” She took a step toward him. God help him, Clara was going to touch him. He may have nodded but wasn’t sure. She reached out and tentatively placed her hand on him. Alex closed his eyes and prayed for the strength he’d need to do this right.

  Gently. Slowly.

  When she wrapped her hand around him, his eyes popped open.

  “Clara.” He reached for her, but she wouldn’t be dissuaded. And while she was the first virgin he’d been with, Alex would wager she did not act like most women who hadn’t yet experienced the joy of lovemaking.

  This was a woman who’d spent six years disguised as a boy. Afraid for her life. Living among men and camp followers in one of the most brutal settings on either side of the border. Tournaments offered gold and jeweled prizes, and their stands glittered from spectators in fancy clothes, but the reality of what went on behind the scenes was harsh and raw—and she’d been exposed to all of it.

  “Show me,” she said, looking at him appreciatively.

  He mistakenly looked down at her hand wrapped around him, and while he’d enjoy nothing more than for her to continue, he couldn’t do it. Not before he gave her pleasure.

  He guided her hand away from him.

  “Later,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

  He pulled Clara toward him, their bodies slamming together, skin on skin, his column pressed against her. He kissed her deeply, their tongues melding together, as he ached from a need so powerful it terrified him.

  He refused to think about that now and pressed against her, allowing her to grow accustomed to the feel and size of him. She returned the pressure, grasping at his back, trying to get even closer. He knew what she wanted, but he’d promised her something else first.

  Without warning, Alex picked her up and carried her to the bed. He tore the covering completely off and tossed it onto the ground, laying her down as gently as possible. He shoved the trunk at the foot of the bed, standing in the place it had vacated.

  “Come toward me,” he told her, no longer able to see her expression now that they were farther away from the fire.

  “I don’t understand.” Her voice faltered, and Alex knew how she felt. The need to be inside her nearly consumed him, but he had vowed to make this night about her. She deserved pleasure after so much pain. And he was going to give it to her.

  He pulled her toward him and toward the edge of the bed, where he knelt below her. Just a little closer.

  “I made a promise that I intend to keep,” he murmured, lowering his head toward her.

  And that’s when she nearly screamed.

  21

  At dinner, she’d thought he was surely jesting, but he really did intend to. . .

  All thoughts of stopping him fled her mind. At the first flicker of his tongue, she grabbed the coverlet and decided never to let go. She squeezed it and arched her back toward him. The sensation was similar to when he touched her there, but much, much more intense. She raised her head and immediately wished she hadn’t. The sight of his head between her legs, the muscles of his shoulders moving as he did indeed taste her. . .

  “I. . . can’t,” she murmured.

  She wasn’t even sure what that meant.

  He stopped just long enough to prod her legs apart. No, it wasn’t anything like the time he’d pleasured her at the beach. This was so much more primal. He teased and tormented, and her grip tightened. The pressure was almost unbearable.

  “Not too loud, love.”

  Had she made a sound? “Please don’t stop.”

  When Alex chuckled against her, the sound so familiar and yet unexpected at this particular moment, another feeling took hold. One deep within her that made her feel more connected to this man than anyone in her life.

  Dear lord. . . how had she allowed herself to fall in love with this Scotsman?

  And that was when her entire world shattered. She arched toward him and tried not to cry out while every muscle tensed and exploded. It was as if she was being torn apart from the inside, but in a good way. Nay, a magnificent way. Clara couldn’t breathe. She lay motionless, trying to understand what had just happened.

  Except Alex didn’t give her time to understand. He moved around to the side of the bed and she shifted up toward him. Clara was surprised she was able to move at all.

  He positioned himself above her, and she looked down.

  Oh dear.

  “Clara, are you sure about this?”

  “Not at all. I understand that is supposed to be inside me, but. . .” She felt foolish to say it aloud, but would it really fit?

  Though his features were obscured by the shadows, his broad smile reassured her a bit.

  “That’s not what I meant, lass.”

  She was about to ask if he was all right—his face, though extraordinarily handsome, also appeared a bit pained. But then she remembered what ailed him. She remembered because he had taught her.

  “Desire,” she blurted.

  He cocked his head and drew his brows together.

  “You look a bit like you’re in pain. But I remember what you told me.”

  That smile again.

  “This will work just fine,” he said, nodding downward. “Are you sure you want to do this? You can lose your maidenhood but once.”

  “Oh.” She was perfectly aware of that. “I’m sure, Alex.”

  He reached down between her legs while warmth began to spread through her again. “I want to do the same to you.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Or perhaps just the opposite. Either way, something snapped in her prev
iously composed Scot. He withdrew his hand, made a sound that reminded her of. . . Well, she’d never heard such a sound. But she liked it.

  And then he entered her, just a bit. It felt different. His manhood guided inside her easily until it stopped.

  “Clara?”

  Her maidenhood. It was useless to her.

  She reached up and pulled him toward her. With that same guttural sound, he pushed again, and this time there was pain. Alex was lying atop her, his arms holding his body over her. He lowered his head and kissed her. But it wasn’t the insistent kiss from before. This one was soft and tender. His mouth guided hers open, his tongue coaxing, gentle.

  Clara kissed him back and only remembered the pain when he began to move again. But it had already dissipated, replaced by an entirely new sensation.

  “I like this,” she said.

  He pulled up to look at her.

  “Like? Then I’m not doing my job correctly.”

  He moved a different way then. Using circular motions, he pushed into her and then pulled away. She mimicked his movements.

  “Alex?”

  It felt so good. He felt so good.

  “Clara?”

  He looked at her with such intensity that she completely forgot what she had intended to say. She moved her hands from his arms to his backside and forced him even closer.

  He smiled.

  She loved that smile.

  She loved him.

  And she especially loved the way he was moving against her—into her—right now. As if sensing that she no longer felt any pain, Alex pushed a bit deeper, withdrew a bit more. That same pressure began to build, and this time, Clara knew what was coming. She closed her eyes in anticipation.

  His hands covered her breasts, caressing them while he moved. She matched his thrusts, pushing harder, wanting more.

  “I want to feel that again,” she said.

  “You will.” His voice, thick with desire, made her feel so powerful. She arched her back and mimicked his circular movements. . . only to be caught in her own net. The pressure built and built until her buttocks squeezed with the release that flooded through her.

  “Oh God, Clara.”

  With a final push, he tensed and cried out. She pulled him toward her, wanting to feel his entire body atop her. They were still joined, and she was glad for it.