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

“We’ll marry.” He’d said, “I’m your man.”
    Different. Very different.
    She fell into a fitful rest but was awakened deep in the night. After a few minutes she heard a distant call…three of the clock, or so she thought.
    Drunken laughter sounded below her window. A man’s laughter, then a woman giggling. Something thumped hard enough against the inn’s wooden wall for Alice to hear it and p’raps imagine the timbers shaking. She left her cozy bed to peer out.
    The night wasn’t completely dark, for a half-moon peeked through gray clouds, shedding enough light for her to see a woman stumbling across the street followed by a tall, dark-haired man. He backed her against the wall across the lane. Her skirts were up about her waist and her face wore a dreamy expression.
    Alice couldn’t see the face of the man pleasuring the whore. He had his back to Alice.
    But she could see black hair tied at the neck.
    Dugald?
    Her heart stuttered.
    The man had his neck crooked so his face was buried in the curve of the woman’s neck where it met her shoulder. His trews were loosened, exposing his lower back. His hips bucked in and out, quickening as the minutes passed, and she could see the upper curves of his white arse as his trousers slipped down.
    Alice’s stomach lurched.
    Gripping the woman about the waist, the man grunted and flung his head back as his hips shoved forward, then stopped. She whimpered, dragging her head to one side. Alice could see his body heaving with his panting breaths, which slowly calmed and evened.
    The man pulled away from the woman, turning to lean his back against the wall, facing out into the street. Murdo, Alice thought, p’raps Murdo, but something disfigured his mouth.
    He dragged a wrist across his face, wiping a dark smear away from his lips before fastening his trews. The woman’s large, uncorseted breasts were partially exposed by a loose, ruffled blouse that had been tugged down a bit. Her fawn-colored skirt was rucked up on one side and tucked into a wide belt, showing pale legs so chubby that they had dimples. Garters dug into the soft flesh of her thighs.
    Envy prickled. Alice could never hope to emulate that rounded form. She knew that men didn’t like skinny girls but preferred women like the whore down in the street.
    He tossed her a coin, which flashed in the moonlight, before he stumbled across the street and into the inn. He slammed the door shut hard enough that Alice jumped. Grumbling male voices emanated from belowstairs. Ah, Dugald. That deep, rumbling tone was definitely Dugald, annoyed by the disturbance.
    The woman tucked the coin into her belt, rearranged her skirt and adjusted her bodice. She ambled along the street and lingered in a doorway, apparently waiting. What for? Alice wondered.
    The grumbling from below stopped. Silence reigned.
    After about three minutes had passed, two more men came out of the inn. Blain and Malcolm approached the woman, who gave them a gap-toothed smile and pulled down her blouse.
    She had large breasts like great ripe pears, with enormous, dark nipples. Alice stared, fascinated. She had never imagined or seen the like. She knew that women’s breasts varied, could tell that her own shy handfuls, gently tipped with palest pink, were modest compared to other women’s thrusting bosoms.
    She’d also seen that breasts meant a great deal to males, for their gazes always dropped whenever they spoke to a woman. If she were a chesty female, their glances would linger. In Alice’s case, men’s eyes instantly returned to her face, as though a lingering perusal of her body was not worth their time.
    She would have preferred larger breasts. But confronted with the outsize bubbies on the whore, Alice cupped her own perfect little globes and felt grateful.
    Grateful and ashamed.
    Ashamed and titillated, for Blain was accosting the whore with clear avidity, showing no hesitation whatsoever.
    Malcolm hung back and Blain urged the younger man