Free The Devil of Clan Sinclair by Karen Ranney Page B

the whisper of his voice against her mouth. Each night, she had longed for him, and now he was here and this was no dream.
    She had come to him and the kiss waited, payment for her patience.
    “You tempt me,” he said in a low burr. “I told myself I should find someone else.”
    “Did you?” she asked in a thin voice.
    “They all sounded Scottish,” he said. “Or English. None of them had your odd American and English accent.”
    She smiled in earnest. “Anyone might say you’re the one who sounds odd, Macrath Sinclair.”
    She reached up and gripped the fabric of his jacket, one hand sliding beneath to touch the fine linen of his shirt. The pounding of his heart beneath her palm was as rapid as her own.
    “I should leave now, Virginia. Tomorrow, you should go.”
    “Do not send me away,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath. “Not tomorrow.” She took as deep a breath as she could manage. “Not tomorrow,” she repeated. “Not tonight.”
    He studied her in the faint glow of the candles.
    In this, she must not fail. But need trumped desperation in this silent moment. Her lips felt too full. Her heart beat too rapidly, and her legs trembled so badly she might fall any moment.
    “Why have you come, Virginia?” he asked.
    “I want to know what love is like between a man and a woman. Not simply what it felt like to be a frightened miss alone with an angry husband.”
    “Was he angry?” he asked.
    “It seemed so.” When he didn’t speak, she said, “He took my virtue, Macrath, not my heart. Never my heart.”
    He pulled her close slowly, so slowly she might have turned her head or escaped from him easily. She didn’t, only tilted back her head, praying for a kiss.
    Softly, he placed his lips on hers. A kiss to reacquaint, an expression of remembrance, and a silent hello, one that didn’t prepare her for the surge of feeling.
    The kiss deepened, becoming something she’d never felt, as if their combined need created a maelstrom between them. She was left gasping for breath, but when he would’ve pulled away, she gripped his shirt with both hands and pulled him back to her.
    “Teach me,” she whispered. Before the words had totally left her lips, she was airborne, caught up in his arms.
    She hadn’t expected this. She’d thought they might escape to his room or her lovely chamber, tiptoeing through this magnificent home like thieves. She’d never thought he would brazenly carry her through the corridors like a drunken bridegroom.
    She closed her eyes, hoping none of his servants saw them. Hoping, too, if they did, she didn’t see them.
    Her hands still clutched his shirt and she couldn’t release them. Where their bodies touched there was such heat she was warned. This night would not be like her wedding night.
    When dawn broke, she wouldn’t be the same woman.

Chapter 9

    M acrath wanted to resurrect the Earl of Barrett and ensure his death was agonizing.
    Virginia had said the words in such a soft tone, it had taken a moment for them to register. The earl had been an angry husband? He’d show the bastard what anger was.
    Regrettably, he wouldn’t have the chance. All he could do was hold Virginia close and ensure those memories were pushed to the background.
    Taking her to his chamber seemed oddly right, especially since it was patently wrong. She was his guest, a lone woman who should be protected and held safe.
    He didn’t stop to reconsider his actions. He didn’t want to think at the moment, only feel, and even that was nearly overwhelming, like he’d breathed too much ammonia.
    When he stopped in front of his door, he lowered her feet to the floor, holding her hand in case she wanted to escape. He wouldn’t allow it. Not after the year of torture he’d endured.
    Even so, he would have escorted her to her suite, said good-night and left her alone. But she’d uttered those words: “I want to know what love is like between a man and a woman.”
    The world, circumstances,