Desire in Tartan: 2 (Highland Vampires) by Suz deMello Page B

not a quick decision. You must know that.” She stroked up and down his torso with quivering fingers, as though she was afeared that her shy explorations would offend him.
    “Aye, I ken,” he said, recalling their kisses at the inn. So hot and sweet she was. And because he couldnae help himself, because he yearned to touch that sweetness, he bent his head and set his lips onto hers.
    An explosion of heat and white light burst through his brain. Like the first time they’d kissed and yet unlike, for this contact was tinctured with fear and longing…her fear and his longing. He hadnae realized the depth of his loneliness or the reach of his hopes.
    He pressed his mouth more firmly to hers and sensed her yielding, her acceptance, her eagerness. Her arms wound around his neck, and she snuggled her slim, lovely body tight to his.
    So slight she was, so delicately made, so perfect. He seemed to have lost control of his hands, for they roamed everywhere, exploring the arc of her shoulder, her small but curvy breasts. He plucked a nipple through her shift and enjoyed her reaction, a shudder that ran through her body like ripples on the surface of a still pond.
    So responsive, even in her innocence. “Ah, mo dòchas, ” he sighed.
    “What?”
    He squeezed her tighter. “My hope.”
    “Ahhh…”
    Her soft exhalation did nothing to calm his need or soothe his conscience. “I hope ye may not live to regret this. For I’ll no turn down a lovely lass when she offers herself to me so freely.”
    “Lovely? Me?” She snorted.
    “Aye, you’re lovely. Hasnae a man told ye?”
    “Lovely for a little brown mouse.”
    He again found himself chuckling. Had this not been his very thought when they’d met? “Aye, at first glance, your charms are…elusive. But your eyes are clear and direct, and your skin fair and as soft as the finest silk. Your form is slender, and yet I’ve seen your strength. Ye’ve endured, Alice, and I’m proud of ye. I’m honored that ye want me.”
    “I feel the same.”
    Her bluntness didnae surprise him. ’Twas a time for honesty. Before dawn he’d fight for both their lives and kill as many as necessary. He hoped that she could accept him for what he was, even if she could never understand him.
    “A vain hope,” he muttered.
    “What?”
    He sighed again. “I hope ye’ll no hate me by the time morning comes.”
    A small hand crept into his. “I could never do that. You’re my…you’re my hero, do you understand that?”
    He creaked out a laugh. “Ah, mistress, I’m nobody’s hero. Or shouldnae be. ’Twas my mistakes that have put you in harm’s way, but I’ll put it right.”
    “Before dawn.”
    “Aye.”
    “Until then?” Her hand left his and slid boldly down his torso. When she touched the waistband of his trews, she stopped.
    “I’ll not help ye lose your innocence, lass.”
    He heard her suck in her breath in an almost violent inhalation. “I thought that men were…that men could not help themselves.”
    He laughed again, noticing that since he’d met Alice Derwent, he’d laughed more than he had for an entire year. “Och, I wear it well, I ken, but I’m a deal older than most males ye’ve met, I imagine.”
    “Yes?”
    He’d prodded her curiosity. “Aye.” After a moment of hesitation, he decided to make a clean breast of it. Had he not just been thinking that this was a time for full honesty? “I have fifty years, mistress.”
    Another sharp intake of breath. “You do not.”
    This time his laugh was full-bodied, full-throated. “Aye, lassie, I surely do.”
    “How can that be?”
    “Kilburns are a breed apart. Ye’ll see when we get to the castle.”
    “You…Kilburns do not age as the rest of us do?”
    “Nay, we do not.” And some of us doonae die , he added silently.
    “Well, then, what difference should that make?”
    “None at all, if it doesnae matter to ye.”If he could keep his sanity while Alice lived, all would be well.
    She pushed him