Legacy of the Highlands (21 page)

She’d been running on adrenalin for most of
the afternoon and the tank was now below empty. Mission
accomplished, she curled her body into a ball on the sofa, pulled
the quilt around her shoulders and drifted away.

When she opened her eyes the sun had gone down,
taking with it the room’s natural light. She hadn’t heard Diego
come in, but there he was, sitting on the floor with his head
resting against the sofa, close to hers. As she stretched, trying
to work the kinks out of her shoulders, she lazily ruffled his hair
with her fingertips.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He turned toward her, concern reflected in
his dark eyes. “Are you all right?” he murmured and cupped her face
in his warm hands. He was ashamed of his earlier behavior and
needed this physical connection with her to feel human again.

“I’m fine, but I’m wiped out. It’s dark in
here, I must have fallen asleep.” They were both whispering, the
room’s dimness forming an impregnable bubble around them. “When did
you get back? Did you see John?”

“I watched him leave the hotel about an hour
ago. It’s killing me to know that I’ve got that man’s blood in my
veins. When I saw him today I was stunned by the rage I felt and
I’m surprised that I was able to control myself as long as I did.
What I’m using too many words to say is you were right to throw me
out. I was useless to you and I’m so very sorry that you had to do
this alone.”

“It’s okay,” she murmured as she studied his
face. The earlier anger was gone and she only saw tenderness in his
gaze as he continued to stroke her face. If she were a cat, she’d
purr. His touch was strong and warm and felt so good and she
needed…so much. She brought one of his hands toward her mouth and
slowly kissed its palm. She was pretty sure that he was offering
something, but he’d made it clear that it would be her choice.

Her lips were soft and lingered long enough
for him to understand that she wouldn’t be kissing him like that
unless she wanted more. He stood and headed toward the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” she mumbled, confused.
Had she read him wrong? There was that honor thing of his. Maybe he
couldn’t stop thinking of her as Will’s wife. Or did he expect her
to follow him?

“I remember that a long, hot soak calms you,
so I’m going to fill the tub. Is that all right?”

“More than all right,” and she smiled as she
visualized sinking into the deep tub, the water’s heat seeping into
her bones.

“It’ll take a while to fill,” he said as he
perched on the edge of the sofa and drew her pliant body to a
sitting position. The soft light coming through the partially open
bedroom door allowed her to see the question in his eyes. The
decision was hers. It always had been. She wrapped her arms around
Diego’s broad back and drew him closer until their bodies made
contact. It felt right somehow.

Diego’s kiss was tentative and his hands
quivered as he cradled her face. His full lips opened a bit,
testing her response. She ran her hands through his thick hair and
down his arms, afraid that if she didn’t hold him he’d disappear
and the moment she’d been simultaneously dreading and hoping for
would be gone. I’m not cheating on Will, she rationalized. It’s
just sex, a physical need like food or air or sleep. He smelled of
sweat, peppermint and spicy cologne, and it was surprisingly easy
to surrender to her body’s desire once she made up her mind.

Will was on Diego’s mind as well. The woman
he was hoping to make love with was his brother’s wife. But Will
was dead and he…well, he was very alive and he’d wanted this woman
for a very long time. Miraculously, it seemed that she finally
wanted him too. He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the
softly lit bathroom.

With the uncharacteristic shyness of a
virgin, she kept her eyes closed as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse
and lowered the zipper of her pants. Some modesty vanished with the
sigh that escaped her lips as he slipped a bra strap off one
shoulder and replaced it with his mouth. In her last moment of
lucidity, she told herself that she’d better be fully committed to
whatever was to come. Could she really do this? The instant she
felt Diego’s warm breath on her shoulder, she had her answer. No
turning back, she realized, as his mouth crumbled the last vestige
of her control. She shivered as he ran his tongue up her neck and
nipped an earlobe before resuming the soft kisses that were already
driving her mad.

The room was steamy and fragrant from the
bath water and Alex wasn’t sure whether she wanted to let go of
Diego long enough to immerse herself in the tub. But he seemed to
know what he was doing, and he was doing it so well, that she
gladly relinquished control. There goes the bra, she thought
dreamily as he deftly unhooked that bit of lavender lace and
continued to nuzzle her neck. Oops, no more panties. He ran his
hands slowly down her hips and his fingers stroked the small of her
back, massaging away the day’s tension. She rested her head against
his chest and inhaled his musky scent. Christ, she loved how men
smelled. They reluctantly loosened their hold on each other and she
slowly lowered herself into the tub. As the water’s heat enveloped
her, she sighed with pleasure and closed her eyes. When she opened
them, Diego was seated on the edge of the tub.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was husky
and filled with emotion. His obvious appreciation made her less
self-conscious about her nakedness and his gaze, smoldering with
desire, intensified her arousal.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied and
blushed. She waited, expecting him to strip and join her in the big
tub, then watched, mesmerized, as he pulled the black T-shirt over
his head and flung it across the room. His chest was a marvel, its
well-defined muscles lightly covered with silky black hair. She
wanted to feel that chest against her breasts, but he resisted when
she tried to pull him into the water.

He wanted to ravish her, to feel and taste
every inch of her body, but he held himself back. He’d fantasized
about this moment for years — never expecting it to come and
conflicted that it had — and he planned to savor it. He also knew
she might regain her sanity at any moment and pull away, so he
forced his own need into that part of his mind where his iron will
resided.

“Patience, Alessandra, patience,” he said
softly. “I only took off my shirt so it wouldn’t get wet while I
wash you.”

“Wash me?” she said as a slow grin lit her
face.

“Mmm hmm,” was his smug reply.

A small gold crucifix dangled from his neck
and she was transfixed by the tuft of black hair beneath the arm he
stretched toward a cake of perfumed soap. She couldn’t tear her
eyes away from his body as he rubbed the soap against a washcloth
until it was covered in foam. Then he took her hand in his and
began to run the slippery cloth up her arm.

“Ohhhhh,” was all she managed to say as she
melted into a puddle of sensation.

The washcloth continued its journey, circled
her neck and slid down the other arm. He leaned her body forward to
wash her back, then brought the cloth around and rubbed it gently
first around one breast, then the other, and finally across her
nipples. I’m going to scream, she thought, but lay back and allowed
him to continue. He followed the same procedure with her legs,
pausing to kiss each toe and run his tongue along her foot’s arch.
His mouth was on her foot, but the signal was telegraphed to
another part of her body.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she moaned.

“Shall I stop?” he whispered and their eyes
met and locked. There was a taunting smile in his gaze.

“Nooooo…” she slowly shook her head from side
to side. “Do more. Please do more.” He slowly slid the washcloth to
the top of her thighs, then let it sink into the water as his
skilled fingers began to caress her. Pleasure built and built until
her body tensed before spasming against his hand.

It was hard to look at him when she finally
opened her eyes. She was a bit mortified to respond to his touch so
quickly, but she had a healthy sex drive and it had been a long
time. Plus, Diego was obviously a gifted lover.

“I moaned, didn’t I,” she said.

“Yeah, you did,” Diego grinned as he wrapped
her in a thick terrycloth robe. Their eyes never left each other as
his arms slid underneath the robe and circled her waist. He was
surprised to realize that if she weren’t willing to give him any
more than this, he’d be satisfied. Disappointed, extremely
frustrated, but definitely satisfied. He wanted to give this woman
pleasure. His own could wait until she was ready for him.

“You said I had to be patient, but I want
you…now,” she whispered breathlessly in his ear. Goose bumps rose
on his skin as she ran her hands over his chest and became the
aggressor. She pressed her mouth to his until his lips parted to
welcome her invading tongue and met it with his own.

Somehow, they made it to the bed. Diego
tossed aside the blanket with one hand and the two of them tumbled,
only marginally aware of finally being on a flat surface. Alex
didn’t know when he’d shed his shorts, or she her robe, but those
barriers were gone and nothing hindered the exploration of each
other’s bodies they’d craved, but refused to yield to, until this
moment. Hard muscle met soft skin. Lips touched, tongues tasted.
Hands teased, stroked and finally demanded.

Diego’s mouth made her world spin out of
control for a second time and she heard his groan as he finally
buried himself in her with one thrust. She instinctively wrapped
her legs around his waist to draw him more deeply into her body and
their hips moved rhythmically as the two of them became one.

Before she lost herself again in sensation,
she silently said a brief prayer, asking Will to understand. She
wasn’t being unfaithful, but she needed the touch of another human
being at that moment as much as she needed to breathe. The fact
that both she and Diego loved Will, and would never do anything to
hurt him, made her hope they’d have his blessing.

“Fucking, lousy Scottish weather,” Serge muttered as
a wind-driven summer deluge soaked his jeans. The heavy denim
whipped around his legs like sails in a gale as he made his way
across the bridge over Inverness’s River Ness, headed for the gift
shop owned by James Mackinnon. He fought to keep his Yankees’
baseball cap atop his head with one hand while the other gripped
the collar of his jacket to keep the rain from running down his
neck. From mid-span he could see the red sandstone of Inverness
Castle atop a hill overlooking the river and hoped he’d have a
chance to explore it.

He’d enjoyed the scenic drive from London to
the Highlands and added Scotland to the growing list of places he
would visit as a tourist someday. His travel, as Diego’s bodyguard,
rarely included the luxury of time to roam aimlessly for his own
pleasure. Today, drenched and chilled, his fantasy destination was
a no brainer — any island in the South Pacific.

Only a few pedestrians braved the squall with
Serge. Scots may be hardy people, but they’re not fools. Those who
didn’t have to venture out wisely remained indoors. He briefly
considered returning to his hotel, but Diego would be pissed if he
wasted a day, so he’d have to make the best of it. Besides, he had
a soldier’s discipline and would never abandon a mission simply
because of something as trivial as weather. He could even turn it
to his advantage. He’d hoped to observe Mackinnon undetected, when
the man’s shop was crowded with tourists, but on a miserable day
like this he’d be able to have the same kind of uninterrupted
exchange with him that Will and Alex had during their visit.

When he’d checked into the four-star Palace Hotel
that morning, he methodically swept his room for bugs and only
relaxed when he’d found two ways to exit that space and the
building quickly. He also installed a miniature motion-activated
camera that would record anyone entering his room while he was
out.

Instead of continuing to use the identity of
the barrister he’d been in London, Sergei Ivan Sidovsky transformed
himself into Steve Spencer, American businessman. Careless slips
were more easily avoided with an alias that started with the same
sound as his real name. Passport, credit cards, driver’s license,
return plane ticket and even half-used American toiletries obtained
from a contact in London supported the metamorphosis. Only Diego
knew that he was in Inverness and the name he’d adopted. His
painstaking caution might seem excessive, but his years as a Mossad
field operative taught him that one tiny, seemingly insignificant
mistake could cost him his life.

Despite the downpour, habit and training made Serge
take a circuitous route to ensure he wasn’t followed. As he neared
Mackinnon’s shop on the High Street he ducked into a doorway to mop
the rainwater off his face. When he spotted the sign for a small
shopping center across the street, he decided it might be a good
place to dry off. He was chilled to the bone; it wouldn’t hurt to
take five minutes to warm himself with some hot tea.

As he wandered through the quaint mini-mall
looking for a teashop, he zeroed in on a store selling replicas of
historic weapons. Its window had an intriguing display of brutal
armament that Scots had used in their own defense, and Serge
marveled at the upper body strength ancient clansmen needed to
slash and thrust the five-foot-long, double-edged claymores they’d
wielded in combat. He’d used many weapons in his time, but none so
massive as this broadsword.

“Do you know where can I get something hot to
drink?” he finally asked a passerby, annoyed that he’d been
distracted.

“You’ll be wanting the wee teashop just past
the chemist’s. It’s nay so easy to find, but if ye go straight on
you’ll no miss it.”