Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires) Read Online Free PDF

supposed that she and Dugald were chalk and cheese, despite her interest.
    Their tongues certainly weren’t chalk and cheese. More like two otters, or p’raps two puppies tussling. Sheer joy to play with Dugald’s tongue with hers, to twine her hands in his long, black hair and to feel his hands roaming her body, still safely and comfortably over her clothes.
    She tucked herself more firmly into his embrace.
    Hands down, then up, then holding her tightly before clasping her face. He drew away, staring deeply into her eyes. His dark gaze compelled her and she reached for him again. She brushed her lips lightly over his, hoping that a return to kissing would be welcomed.
    When he pulled away, she realized she was wrong. Shame swept her, battering her heart, and she turned to hide her face.
    Insistent hands gripped her shoulders, bringing her back. A gentle finger slipped beneath her chin and raised her head. Again she was compelled to look into Dugald Kilburn’s eyes. Black as the deepest midnight, utterly enticing, even hypnotic. Magical.
    Her stomach twirled and tipped while her heartbeat thundered as though her emotions drove its violent beats.
    Was this what falling in love felt like?
    He rubbed his nose against hers, an unexpectedly tender gesture. Something in her chest clenched then released.
    The room was silent except for their soft breaths mingling in the warm, smoke-scented air.
    He released her and stepped away. “You’re a virgin, are ye not?”
    “Y-yes.”
    He smiled. “Aye, a woman like ye would be. I’ll not push ye.” He went to the door and turned, his eyes brilliant. “But know this. I want ye, Alice Derwent. When you’re ready, I’m your man.”
    Struck dumb, she managed a nod.
    “Say good night.”
    “Good night.”
    Another smile. “Good night, mo dòchas. ”

Chapter Four
     
    Dugald Kilburn slept through the night for the first time in a year.
    Alice Derwent did not.
    What had he called her? His duckish? What on earth? She hoped it had nothing to do with ducks. She liked ducks but didn’t wish to be compared to one. She’d heard that the French called those they loved “my little cabbage”. P’raps the Scots had equally strange endearments. She hoped not.
    She’d have to learn Gaelic. She’d managed in Glasgow without learning the odd, sibilant local language, but she realized that she’d either have to learn or she’d go through the next years of her life without understanding much of what was going on around her.
    As she lay in bed, her thoughts chased each other ’round and ’round, each time returning to the same theme—Dugald. How his mouth had felt, smooth and cool, on hers. How delicious he’d tasted and smelled. What he’d said.
    Know this. I want ye, Alice Derwent. When you’re ready, I’m your man.
    I’m your man.
    She had a man, something she’d never thought she’d have. Who would have her, someone who lingered between two worlds? Her mother had been of noble birth, but her father…well, calling him duckish would have been apropos. He’d been an odd duck indeed. And as for Alice herself…the daughter of a professor wasn’t nobility but not a servant either.
    Straddling two worlds, unsuited to either. Until now.
    Because she’d been so sure she’d never marry, and for several years had been too old to consider the possibility, she hadn’t thought about whether she wanted a man in her life the way Dugald Kilburn apparently intended.
    Did she? And did she have a choice?
    He’d sounded absolutely certain. She was his bonnie lassie and he was her man whether she wanted him or not. But she was certain that Dugald never would force her to do anything she didn’t want to do.
    However, he had very good reasons for believing she wanted a man, a particular man. Him. He’d kissed her first, but she’d not only kissed back but had initiated.
    At the thought, heat swept through her body. Had she misbehaved, acted like a whore?
    Mayhap. He hadn’t said,