He exited the car, not even bothering to lock it. He was eager to see her, and he didn’t even care how he was behaving. He’d lived a life of following rules, of doing what was right. Then he had years of feeling disconnected from reality, and a few more distancing himself from others and from himself.
Her work had shaken him out of his stupor and had brought her into his life. She had changed everything. She was going to make him break rules he had never considered breaking before: his own rules.
And he was willing to pay the price.
He knocked twice at her door.
Not Sebastian. Laetitia’s heartbeat sped up when she unlocked the bolts and pulled the double doors wide, exposing herself to any number of incongruent possibilities running through her mind. She had left the gates ajar. If on purpose or not, she did not know.
Standing on her porch was Tavish, once more dressed all in black, hands shoved in his jeans pockets.
And just like that, whatever coherent thought she’d had flew away.
He waited for her to back up and make space for him to enter. Definitely she is worth all kinds of risks and complications, and then some.
Say it, and I’ll give it to you—consequences be damned. Ask for it. No! Take it. She needed to tell him her decision, yet no words left her mouth. Everything. Anything. However you want, as long as you want it with me.
Unconsciously, she waited for him to make the first move, not even offering a smile, with absolutely no idea what to do.
His head cocked to the side, staring at her, not smiling, not frowning, either, but more like she was a puzzle he had to solve. His eyes intensified as his fingertips brushed her hair.
Beneath the amazement in her gaze there was a totally tempting sexual longing.
“What is it about you . . .” He trailed off and advanced.
She stepped back, inexplicably alarmed. He had been such a gentleman so far, even if he looked at her in a way she wasn’t used to, much less felt comfortable with. “Mr. Mac—”
“I’d rather you call me by my given name.” He didn’t ask but commanded in his deep, quiet voice, which didn’t permit denial.
It had the mesmerizing impact of a sensual caress over her body.
“Right. Tavish. Tavish Uilleam.” She backed up, angling for the living room, and tried in vain to swallow her nervousness. Where is your courage? “Sebastian hasn’t arrived yet.”
He studied her face with his eyes of liquid sea-green, when her back hit the wall where a huge, centuries-old fabric was displayed as a wall hanging.
“I didn’t come here because of Sebastian.”
“No?” Of course he didn’t, you idiot. “Because of the contract then?”
“Nae. And you know it.”
Laetitia’s mouth went dry. Nothing about him was standard. Powerful, unutterably beautiful, and yet frighteningly male, face-to-face, this close, Tavish terrified the shy Laetitia.
He leaned forward and whispered, “Are you in a personal relationship, Laetitia?”
His oak-chocolate scent made her dizzy. Her hands flattened themselves on his chest. “No, but I fail to—”
He stepped closer and didn’t wait for her to finish answering.
His lips met hers.
Softly, so softly, they were hardly touching.
A gossamer caress.
The instant his mouth touched hers, Tavish knew he had acquired a new addiction for something that he would never get enough of. His blood sizzled, electrified, and he felt himself grow erect.
As unforeseen as the gentleness of his kiss, so was the violence of the lightning bolt that ran through her.
Her lips parted.
He lifted his head.
Disappointed, she thought he was done.
He was certain he hadn’t even begun.
He slammed his forearms on either side of her shoulders, trapping her against the wall, pressing his hard body against hers, smashing his lips against hers, thirsty for the pleasure he had forgotten.
Laetitia would have sworn the ever-cool temperature of her house rose a hundred degrees in seconds.
She should be terrified of his violence, but all she could feel was a burning arousal. He had messed up her emotions from the moment they had met. All she craved to do right at that moment was to throw caution to the wind and give in. And she did, throwing her arms around his neck, which made him snake his around her.
Tavish kissed her thoroughly—a man skilled in the art of passion, who knew exactly what he wanted and meant to have it. His lips took possession of the softness of her mouth, in a decadent openmouthed kiss, whirling her in a bedazzled dance of desire.
She reveled in his possession, in the sure way his strong arms wrapped around her and held her prisoner against his muscular torso. He was all male, solid and strong. Tendrils of his oak and bitter-chocolate scent entwined her and put her senses into overdrive.
He tasted like the scorching sun in the summer, like her deepest fantasies and darkest fears all mixed into one. His erection nestled on her stomach. She gasped, confused, as she felt her own body react, pressing back against his. There was only the dizzying feeling of the pulsing heat swirling up to her head and zipping down again, coalescing in a molten pool, hot and liquid, wetting her. Her fingers dipped into his hair, as she shifted from stunned shock to willing participant, grabbing handfuls of his silky midnight-black locks.
His palm cupped her breast and kneaded it, twirling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
She started to shake in his arms. For a second, he lightened his touch, only gingerly moving his thumb over her nipple.
She arched on his palm, not knowing if she was complaining at the harsh treatment or missing the rough kneading. No kiss in her wildest fantasies was ever like that.
She wished she could have sorted out her feelings for him in those kisses. But he was so layered that she allowed herself to feel. Tavish became her focus, her liberation, her everything.
“Laetitia,” he breathed. His piercing eyes searched hers with a predatory gleam as he hauled her up on his arms.
When she followed his lead, wrapping her legs around him, he walked to the closest sofa in her living room and sat with her straddling his lap.
His fingers, smooth and hard, like polished horn, found their way under her sweater and pulled it off; his touch was firm but far gentler than she would have expected from such a man.
The vision of her round and heavy breasts contained in the bra made him groan, white-hot desire clawing through him, and he buried his head in the soft valley, wishing to tear her clothes, their clothes, and impale her with no finesse, right then and there.
She gave him in return a more feminine moan, his name on her lips: “Tavish.”
His tongue licked her skin.
Another gasp—hers, his—she didn’t know anymore.
She angled her head back, giving as much as she was taking. She was behaving out of character, but that madness was exactly what she wanted.
“Laetitia?” Sebastian’s voice and loud banging on the door broke into their frenzy.
“Just a second!” She scrambled out of his lap and gathered her sweater, adjusting her clothes.
Tavish groaned low, annoyed. He wanted to tell Sebastian to go to hell, then make love to her right there on her sofa. Stepping behind her, he held on to her waist and breathed, “Later.”
“Laetitia!” Sebastian’s voice sounded closer. “Are you in there?”
“Coming,” she shouted, running to the hall, stopping short of toppling Sebastian and his daughter, Virginia Buchanan.
“Lass.” He eyed her and shook his head, his lips pursing.
She took a quick look in the mirror. Her mouth was reddened, her cheeks rosy, her eyes gleaming, her hair a mess.
“Hi.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his scarred cheek and combed her hair over her ears, more self-conscious at her state of dishevelment.
“Hey, Laetitia.” Virginia kissed and hugged h
er. “You’ve been working too much.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” she asked, returning her embrace with warmth but pondering the fact that she hadn’t thought about her ears while Tavish was kissing her.
Sebastian tutted. “Because it’s true?”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and pushed everyone to the living room.
CHAPTER 16
The sizzling undercurrent of lust between Laetitia and Tavish stayed muted during dinner.
As Sebastian and Laetitia alternated themselves in presenting a five-course meal, minus the dessert, perfectly paired with wine, the kitchen warmed with laughs. Aromatic smells and sweet-and-sour, spicy flavors heightened the senses, as the four of them discovered a mutual love for classic literature and alternative rock, wines, cheese, and vegetarian food.
Laetitia and Tavish were widely divergent in their film tastes. She couldn’t stand horror movies and made Tavish promise to never see one with her, which he immediately agreed to, as it implied that they would be seeing a film together in the future.
“I’m super impressed, Buchanan!” Tavish rubbed his stomach as he stood and took his plate to the dishwasher.
“Laetitia is responsible for most of this dinner success,” said Sebastian, his grin telling how much he was satisfied with the praise.
Tavish’s lips curled for the umpteenth time that evening, as he realized the wine cooler was a marble fountain, ingeniously attached to the wall by the sink, so when the ice melted, the water dripped there, without Laetitia having to fuss over puddles on the floor.
“And make space, Doc,” interjected Virginia, handing him the frozen strawberry pie and the bowl of whipped cream, then taking the plate off his hands. “Laetitia’s desserts are better than my father’s.”
“You’ll deal with the dishes, traitor.” Sebastian growled.
Laetitia held back Tavish’s wrist as he was going to eat his first piece. “Not like this.”
“Nae?”
“You can’t eat it without this sauce.” Laetitia slid her chair over by his.
“Hot chocolate?”
“Spiced with whisky and cardamom.” She spooned a piece of pie from his plate and poured a dollop of cream; then from a small porcelain jug she poured the hot sauce over them. “You have to make sure you get all the flavors.”
“Indeed.” The word left his mouth in a whisper, as he could easily see them naked on the bed while she fed him from her hand. Or he ate it from her breasts.
Tavish leaned in, and Laetitia fed him the dessert. In the process, a drop of the sauce fell onto his chin.
She instinctively reached out to stop it, just as he automatically nabbed the wayward drop with his tongue, licking it off her fingers. She leaned closer, a slow, almost minuscule movement. A blast of eroticism coursed through them, growing stronger as he sucked her finger into his mouth.
Sebastian smiled at Virginia, who had a grin on her face. In all the years Sebastian had known Laetitia, she had been extremely reserved with men, including him. He was happy Tavish had made such quick progress where no one else had.
Tavish and Laetitia were so immersed in themselves they had forgotten Sebastian and Virginia were at the table with them.
Virginia looked at her father, smiled wickedly, and didn’t miss the opportunity. “Ahem!”
The two sprang apart: Tavish cleared his throat and Laetitia jumped from her chair, blushing.
Embarrassed, Laetitia led them to the living room, where she sat across from Tavish, who lowered himself in a large armchair that seemed to be made especially for him.
The conversation resumed as if nothing had happened.
“Have you read the article on veterans in The Guardian today?” Sebastian asked Tavish. “Those narrow-minded people who seem to know more about the war than we who have been there.”
“And the comments!” exclaimed Virginia. “There was a woman! Such a ‘disgusting romantic.’”
“Why the quotes ‘disgusting romantic’?” asked Laetitia. “Women fantasizing about badass soldiers is common.”
Do you? Tavish tensed, his hands closing into fists. Everything inside him twisted into a mess of vibrating anxiety and wild lust.
Sebastian answered, “Because fantasizing is one thing, reality is another. In their fantasy, they want to nurture us or think us violent men who take pleasure in killing.”
“War is so far away, people in general have an unreal idea of it,” Virginia said.
“Unreal? You have no idea! I heard the most appalling proclamations when I came back. ‘Oh, you must have killed a lot of people over there!’ As if war was a game. As if we were unfeeling machines.” Tavish grimaced. “Fantasy works well in books and films. It can be easily turned into pity or aversion because of scars received. Fucking stupid mentality,” Tavish said, curtly. Relax! He adjusted himself in the armchair, stretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles. His hand massaged his leg wound unconsciously.
“It’s quite an honor to have dinner at Laetitia’s, Doc,” Sebastian said, sensing Tavish’s discomfort with the subject. “Isn’t it, love?”
“And to have her baking one of your favorite desserts,” Virginia agreed. “Our Laetitia here seldom goes out and never receives. She must really like you.”
Laetitia sighed. And here come the matchmakers.
Tavish’s eyes snapped up to Laetitia’s face. “Indeed?” Matches what the baron said.
“You have no idea,” added Virginia. “She is quite the recluse.”
“It’s not like that. The house is not fully restored, with those broken windows and all.” She deflected, unsettled under Tavish’s scrutiny. “And I do go out.”
“To buy old doors and dusty furniture, to Leam Gallery once a month, and to slave at the manor, from Wednesday morning to Sunday evening.” Virginia shook her head. “When was the last time you went out with us?”
“I’ve been busy painting. And I frequent Colwich Abbey,” Laetitia complained.
“Just to make the tragedy worse,” Sebastian snorted.
She rolled her eyes at them. “Bastian, stop that. It’s lovely and peaceful there.”
Tavish teased, “Are you taking vows?”
Sebastian laughed. “Celibacy vows, at least.”
Her eyes flickered over Tavish, a rosy blush tingeing her cheeks. She shrugged. “It’s not that bad. Celibacy, I mean.”
“Nae, it’s not bad,” he said. “Well. It’s bad only in the narrow sense.”
“Oh. Come on, Doc,” Sebastian pleaded. “It’s bad in any sense.”
“I’ve been celibate.”
They gaped at him.
“You?” Laetitia nearly groaned out loud as the word left her lips. To conceal her curiosity, she bent her head and fixed her gaze on the deep burgundy-colored ancient rug.
“Why not?” Tavish didn’t know what possessed him to come to Laetitia’s defense with such an intimate confession, but he would do it again.
She nodded, refusing to look up. “But you are . . .”—hot, sexy—“uh . . . a man.”
“Should it be disparaging because I’m a man?” He chuckled, able to see under the mass of hair a sheepish smile gracing Laetitia’s lips.
“Erm . . . no.”
“Astonishing, nonetheless,” said Virginia at the same time Sebastian, who couldn’t help himself, exclaimed, “You don’t miss women? Women’s company, the sound of their voices, the way that although they occupy the same physical space as us men they seem to inhabit it so totally differently? It’s . . . precious, man!”
“It’s not like I lived in a cloister, Sebastian,” he said, and added with a drawl, “and I changed my mind about it after a year.”
A full-fledged laugh left Sebastian’s chest as a blush crept over Laetitia’s face. “Do you find the floor to be particularly fascinating, lass?”
“Yes, Sebastian, I find it rather inspiring.” She tossed off her slipper and rubbed her big toe in circles on the rug, keeping her ey
es on it with renewed determination.
That simple action made Tavish fight the desire to reach out, take that delicate ankle in a firm grasp, and stroke her legs upward to find if she were as soft as he imagined. Then he would decadently tongue and kiss his way upward until he met her womanhood and tasted her.
Virginia elbowed Sebastian, whose lips twisted with amusement when he saw Tavish couldn’t tear his eyes from her circling movements. “And you, Doc, do you make it a habit of studying floors, too?”
“Jesus Christ, nae! But it does seem to interest her.” His pulsing, building erection was pressing against the fly of his jeans. He pinned Sebastian with his gaze and mouthed, It’s time for you to go, Buchanan.
“Laetitia has the weirdest inspirations.” Sebastian laughed and rose, stretching. Virginia joined him. “Perhaps you’ll figure her out, Doc.”
Laetitia restrained herself from grabbing her friends by the shirt and asking them to stay until Tavish had left. It was with trepidation that she saw them walk to their car.
CHAPTER 17
“You don’t mind if I take a minute of your time?”
It took everything she had not to tell him she did mind, because there was no need for talking. Before she agreed to everything he would ask, without giving it a second—or a third or a fourth—thought, to hide her embarrassment and get a grip on her libido, she clamped her mouth shut.
Perhaps if she ignores me, I’ll leave her be, because, quite frankly, I only have so much self-control, and it’s fast unraveling.
“Laetitia?”
“It’s late,” she said, watching Sebastian’s car drive away. Her courage whooshed from her. “I have work tomorrow. Maybe you should go.”
“Maybe, but if I do, we’ll be again beating around the bush.”
This man turned her into someone she’d never been, and she had no idea how to handle it; she knew it would take very little to be consumed by his intensity. And although she was terrified, she was a step away from being completely at his mercy. She needed to make sure she was not imagining his proposals.
She was not the starry-eyed girl who believed in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters as she had been almost eight years ago.