Behind the Plaid (20 page)

“I am the guardian of Scotland.”

He said it so seriously I hadn’t the heart to tell him he’d already made that clear, so I just nodded.

“Ye dinna understand. I am
the
guardian.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” I was confused by his words, and the way he st
roked his hands over my spine wasn’t making it any easier to concentrate.

“The king has entrusted in me not only a treasure but a secret.”

“Don’t all leaders trust their men with their secrets?” I asked, placing my hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath my fingertips. The light of the fire flickered in his eyes.

“Some. But not a secret like this one.”

“Do you want to tell me what it is?”

He nodded. “But I canna. If I were to ever tell anyone, ye would be it. I know not why, but I would.”

“But if you told me you’d have to kill me?”

Deadly serious, he nodded. “And I would also die.”

Holy shit. What kind of secrets did he have? The kind that really would end in death? Of all places… I had to fall here. With him. But I knew if I had a chance to choose where I went, I would always come back to Logan.

“No matter what your secrets, you can trust me.” I stroked his hair away from his forehead.

“I still canna tell ye.”

“Please don’t. I want to live.” Saying those words, my chest swelled with emotion. I did want to live. Before coming here, whether I lived or died wouldn’t have mattered to me.

But it was almost like Gealach Castle was a fortress surrounding me so that I could find my reason to live and Logan was the one who led me there.

“
Now, I’ve told ye something about me. ’Tis your turn to share.”

I refrained from mentioning he hadn’t exactly told me anything. “My parents and brother died
just before my eighteenth birthday.”

“Ye had a brother?” His eyes widened. “I had a brother
, too.”

“How did your brother die?”

“He…” Logan shook his head. “He’s always with me.”

I smiled wanly. “That is a good way to look at it. I guess I always feel like my brother is with me
, too.”

“How did he pass?” Logan
asked.

Realizing Logan would have no idea what a plane was, and I’d probably sound insane trying to explain it, I simply said, “An accident while they traveled. They were killed instantly.”

“I’m sorry to hear of it. How did ye survive?”

I looked down at my hands on his broad chest. He was so much larger than me, and again I was stunned with how safe I felt around him. Not like when I’d met
Steven, when I’d been looking for someone to guide me. This was different. “I wasn’t with them.”

“Where were ye?”

“At home.” My brother was a brilliant soccer player. His team had made it to an international championship game, and while they all trekked off to Brazil, I stayed home because of friends. We had a couple of spring break events planned and I didn’t want to miss it. When the crash happened…my friends, they all kept going, and I didn’t. I’d wished I’d been on that plane.

“Do ye ever feel…” He stopped
and looked toward the window.

I looked there
, too, noting that inside of a golden slice of light cutting through the thin opening, it was dusk. Night was falling. “What?”

He looked back at me, his gaze intense, eyes strained. “Do ye ever feel like ye can change the way the world
progresses?”

Swallowing back my denial, I thought on his question. “Before reaching, Gealach…no. I wouldn’t have. Now…” How could I say that I had changed the world already, mine at least?

“What is it about ye?” he asked. His gaze searched my face, and instead of shutting him out, I let him see inside. Let him see my pain, my angst, my desire for him, for a new life.

I flattened my hand to his face. “I don’t know, Logan.”

“Me either.”

The intensity of the moment proved a little much for me. I climbed from his lap. “Can I get you some wine? Agatha left me a nice spread, I’ve barely touched.”

Logan glanced toward the table laden with meats, pies and a jug of wine. He nodded.

“Maybe that’s the problem,” he chuckled. “Neither of us has had enough wine this eve.”

“Your world…mine…they are both filled with stress, I think.” Logan came to stand beside me and I poured a cup and handed it to him. “Wine can help take the edge off.”

Logan grabbed a hunk of unknown meat and popped it into his mouth. “I agree,” he said as he chewed.
He wrinkled his nose. “Agatha has given ye mutton.”

“Is that what it is?
Sheep?”

He nodded.

“I don’t care for sheep,” I said, feeling actually quite sad about it. Sheep were cute little creatures that children sang about in nursery rhymes, not something I wanted to see on my plate.

“I dinna care for it either.”

“What do you like?” I asked, taking a sip of the wine I’d poured myself.

“Whisky,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“To eat?” I asked with an answering smile.

“Besides the cleft between your thighs?” he said gruffly.

I drained the cup of wine and poured more. “Yes, besides that.” How could he turn a conversation about eating sheep into one of carnal pleasure? The wine coursed into my belly and straight through my veins making me feel warm, light. Just like the beer I’d had, the wine was more potent. Only one more glass, I told myself, or else I’d pass out cold.

“I like
pastries. I confess a weakness for sweets.”

I reached for one of the
fruit pastries on the table. Its crust was flaky, and sugared apples with a hint of spice filled the center.

“It just so happens that I have a pastry right here.” I took an exaggerated bite, chewing the delicious, melt-in-your-mouth apples. Once again I was a little stunned at the way he brought out a side of myself I’d not known existed. How was it possible I was two different people wrapped up inside one mind?

“Ye little tease,” he growled, lunging for me.

I leapt out of his way and ran to the opposite side of the room. Logan laughed and barreled toward me. I hopped up onto the bed to get out of his way, and just when I thought I was going to make it to the other side, he grabbed me around the waist and hauled me backward against his chest.

“I believe ye’ve a treat for me,” he said against my ear, licking the lobe.

I murmured, “Yes,” and closed my eyes.

“Give me a bite.”

I held the pastry over my shoulder, prepared for him to take a bite, but he turned me around instead. Opening my eyes, I watched him dip his head to nuzzle between my breasts.

“The best treat of the day,” he declared.

I laughed and gasped while he softly bit my hardened nipples through my gown—the lavender one. I’d not the balls to dress in the sheer black one.

“Now, for my
sweet.” He flattened me to the bed, and instantly my sex was drenched, quivering, waiting. Logan sprawled on top of me, his hips settling between my parted thighs. Only this time, he did grab the pastry from my hands and shoved the entire thing into his mouth. “Mmm… So good.”

I laughed and shoved against his shoulder. “Now who is the tease?” I asked.

He grinned and licked the syrup from his lips. “I never promised anything other than eating that treat.”

“Not true,” I admonished, then bit my lip.

“Ah, but ye’re right. I did promise ye a lesson.”

I bent my knees and lifted my hips. This was the kind of lesson I wanted, a deep, thrusting, hip pounding, thigh clenching, air gasping, shrieking
, sexual lesson.

“Not yet, lass… Tonight I want to teach ye how to pleasure yourself.”

“And I want to pleasure you.”

He shook his head and grinned
in the overpowering way he had that said he was the one in control and knew exactly what he was doing. With a wink, he whispered, “Prepare to be satisfied.”

Chapter Fifteen

Emma

O
h. My. Gods.

I
gulped, trying not to be as shocked by his words as I was turned on. What could he teach me? My nipples tingled, belly quivered, sex clenched.

“I am,” I answered, feeling heat sear my cheeks.

“Are ye?” Logan trailed his lips from the inside of my knee up the middle of my thigh.

I swallowed. My legs shook. Logan stroked over my thighs, spread them wider, pushed my skirts up to my hips so my sex was fully exposed. He gazed on my exposed flesh, his pupils dilating, nostrils flaring. I could tell he liked what he saw.
I wanted him to forget his lesson of teaching me to pleasure myself and instead pleasure me himself. I wanted to feel his tongue slicking over my heated flesh.

“Ye are exquisite,” he said softly
, his words empowering me. He could say it a million times and I’d always be amazed hearing praise from his lips.

“Touch me,” I pleaded, a little surprised at the words forming from my own throat. I’d never begged for anyone’s caress. And yet, if he didn’t touch me soon I might collapse from the pressure building inside me.

Logan loomed above me, swept down and captured my lips. He took complete control of my mouth, his tongue delving inside to own mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, arched my back to feel my breasts scrape across his chest. Lifted my hips, feeling the pressure of his organ brushing mine. Not enough pressure. I wanted to feel the weight of him pushing me into the bed. But he teased me. Kissed me hard, but kept his body light above me. I gasped, moaned, grazed my nails down his back. So overcome with desire, need, that I felt out of control. His will was my command.

Anything he wanted.

“Take me,” I said breathlessly.

“In time.” Logan pulled away with languid ease. His mouth slid over my chin, down my neck, where he dipped his tongue onto the space at the base of my throat.
“Now for your lesson.”

Logan leaned back on his heels, his eyes once more riveted between my thighs. I was dripping wet, could feel the
hot slickness slipping down to my buttocks. He must have seen it too. Licking his lips, he said, “Take off your gown.”

I didn’t say anything, only lifted my butt to pull the gown over my hips completely
, then sat up. I untied the gown’s bodice, trying to remember exactly how the maids had put me into it. My fingers trembled and Logan made no move to help me. Instead he intently watched, though I sensed an urgency in him. This was a test as much for him as it was for me. For him a trial in control and for me an experiment in pushing aside my fears, letting myself go. Eventually, I finished the task, and tossed the fabric aside. I sat quivering in a thin chemise, my skin on fire.

Logan traced his finger over my neck, down my chest to the ribbons
tying the chemise. With his thumb and forefinger he tugged a ribbon. The ties easily unraveled and my chemise fell open exposing the swells of my breasts. Logan hissed a breath. “This too needs to go.”

I nodded and pulled it up over my head
. The chill of the room caressed my skin. But at the same time, my skin was flushed. I shuddered. Logan reached behind me, fluffed the pillows, then gently pushed against my shoulders.

“Lay back.”

His gaze raked over me, stopping briefly at the small tattoo on my hip. His eyes narrowed and he reached out, touched the mark.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A tattoo.”

“I’ve not seen this before. Ye’re…marked.”

The way he said it, the way his maids had reacted, sent a ripple of fear up my spine. “I asked for it.”

His brows raised. “Why?”

I shrugged. “When I was young. I had a fascination with Celtic history. My family…” If I said too much, he’d think I was crazy. As it was, people with marks like this were often seen as witches, or marked by the devil. “I just liked it.”

Logan’s eyes blazed with earnest interest, and something flashed in his eyes that look
ed like pride, but I couldn’t truly tell. He glanced away and climbed from the bed and walked to fire, stoking it, building the flames like I wished he would do to me. Just watching him at the task, the way his body moved so fluidly, the way it was second nature for him to do things for others, did stoke my desire. But as much as I wanted him, the thought of pleasuring myself frightened me. I wasn’t opposed to masturbating. Surely, most girls practiced touching themselves. Steven had not allowed me to have a vibrator or anything of the kind, but that didn’t mean I did not touch myself when he wasn’t home. In the shower. The relief of pressure, the pleasure would often take me away for at least those few minutes.