After that, she danced with man after man. The whole experience was heady, though she had the regrettable habit of comparing each partner to the Highlander. As if he were the template others should aspire to? His manner was gruff, and she’d certainly seen more handsome, genteel men. Still, she wished he would look at her as these men did. As if they were besotted. As if they were on the verge of spontaneous poetry. MacCarrick always seemed to be studying her, yet never letting her know what he had decided.
But life was short and she was young. Another man swept her into a dance and she laughed—not a practiced ladylike laugh but a full-hearted one. And why not? Wasn’t she already ruined? She’d been kidnapped by a gang of mercenaries. In fact, barring pirates, she couldn’t call up a scenario where one could possibly be more ruined than that.
Young and ruined—there was a lot of freedom in that. Salut to young and ruined! She laughed again at her thoughts, and the man leaned in to whisper in her ear that she was lovely beyond words and that he wanted her.
Why, how adorable—
She was wrenched from him, leaving the man stumbling. MacCarrick had a viselike grip on her good arm and was hauling her away. The men she’d danced with actually booed him until he turned back. She didn’t see the look he gave them, but whatever it was made them quiet.
She frowned. Quiet and a good deal paler than before.
“Where are you taking me?” Anna asked with a hint of slurring in her voice. “I was enjoying myself.”
Court bet she was. Tonight he’d recognized that while she was with him he would kill any other man who touched her. “What did he tell you?” he asked as he cut through the park, pulling her along to their inn.
She frowned. “Pardon?”
Court stopped and faced her. “The man dancing with you.”
“Oh, him,” she said with a grin. “He told me I was lovely and that he wanted me.”
He hid his clenched hands behind him, fought to control his tone. “A fine idea. I’ll take my payment now.”
She blinked at him. “Your payment?”
“My kiss. I want it. Now.”
“Here?”
“Here.”
“Oh. Well, you are due, I suppose,” she said, shocking him. He’d expected her to beg out of it.
“Then put your arms around my neck.” Damn, if she didn’t do just that. “And bring your lips to mine.” She stood on her toes to reach him. He’d wanted to go slow, to teach her—not frighten her as he had at the lodge.
Yet he found his lips on hers, hard and intent, and when he flicked his tongue against her lips, she gasped. At once he touched his tongue to hers, tasting the sweet wine she’d been liberally drinking.
She pushed at his chest and broke away, breathless. “You can’t do that! That’s not right.”
“It’s a French kiss. We’re in France.” It was then that he noticed her choker was not on her neck. This was the first time she’d left it behind, and it signified something, he knew it, but then when she mouthed “Ohhh,” he set right back, saying against her lips, “Kiss me back.”
She hesitantly did, with the tiniest stroke of her tongue. Then she broke away again, a look of wonderment on her face. “That felt nice.”
His voice was harsh. “Then let’s do it instead of talking about it.”
“Oh, of course.” She closed her eyes again and offered her lips up to him. He took them, kissing her, savoring her. When she lapped at his tongue, pleasure shot through him, making him squeeze her hips and grind her against him.
A last haze of sense returned to him. They were in the center of the park. No privacy. By the time they reached the inn, she would realize what she was doing. He knew her. He knew that tonight nothing would cool her ardor like the sight of a bed.
He scanned the area and saw a stone grotto only a few yards away. He took her elbow and led her inside, wondering if she would break away now, if she would come to her senses, but he didn’t wonder for long. She reached up and kissed him, as she grasped his arms and squeezed the muscles there. He laid his hands on her face as he deepened the kiss, then slipped them down, glancing past the tips of her breasts.
She moaned against him and her hand flitted low on his torso. Without thought and greedy for her touch after her torture today, he took it and placed it against the ridge in his trousers. She froze and broke the kiss.
“I shouldn’t do that,” she whispered.
“No’ curious? You doona have to do more. Just feel me.”
She bit her lip, appearing to weigh his request, then she leaned up to kiss his chest in the V of his shirt. While he tried not to groan, she adjusted her hand on him—because she hadn’t removed it.