He stroked her cheek. “I want you, and you want me too, don’t you? Sweet Beth. There’s naught you seem to fear.”
She risked a peek from beneath her lashes. “What I fear is that … that you might not kiss me again after all.”
“Not that,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Never that.” He swooped in, taking her mouth in a hot-blooded kiss.
Elspeth’s world exploded. She opened herself to him, melting into him, welcoming him, exploring with mouth and teeth and tongue, like a woman starved. Like a wanton.
The thought that she might be a wanton aroused her all the more.
A dam broke deep inside her, letting free every passion she’d ever harbored. Twining her fingers in his hair, she crushed her body as close as she could against his. She felt his startled laugh turn to a groan in her mouth, and it inflamed her desire to a fever pitch.
He gradually began to slow the kiss, gradually and regretfully pulling away. “We shouldn’t.”
She opened her mouth to protest, and he laughed low, interrupting her by saying, “Rather, we should. Just not here.”
“Oh,” she said, relieved.
Leaning her weight into him, she gazed up, a smile in her eyes for this man who seemed to soften for none but her. One needed only to see his scars, testifying to a lifetime of beatings, or imagine his escape, or his adventures across the sea, to know Aidan was the most dangerous of rogues. And yet she felt protected in his arms.
She’d felt such dread when her father had first spoken the name Dougal Fraser. She knew she should summon that dread now. She should, even now, be jumping into action, searching for clues, fighting for her freedom. Yet she and Aidan both stood, mesmerized by this happy dream from which they dared not wake.
She reached to cup his cheek for a moment, and as she stroked back down, she felt a strange, hard ridge in his breast pocket. She canted her head, giving him a quizzical look. “What’s this?”
His eyes had been hazy from the kiss, and she watched as they cleared. He gave her a lazy smile and kissed the tip of her nose. “I got you something.”
“Me?” She became woozy with panicked selfconsciousness. Aidan was the first man—the first person, really—to give her gifts so freely. The thought that he’d bought her something else had her feeling embarrassed. “Something?”
“Most women receive such news with some degree of pleasure.” He stroked the side of her hotly blushing cheek. “Look at you, flying your colors. I can see your blush, even in the shadows.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said stiffly.
“I know it. But surprise is the nature of the whole enterprise, isn’t it?” With a finger he tipped her face to his. “Do you not generally get gifts?”
She shook her head. “Not generally, no.”
“Well, we’re a pair,” he said, “because I don’t generally give them.” Not publicly, at least.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she repeated.
He stared at her a moment, dumbfounded. Why did the woman feel so blasted uncomfortable? It was such a simple damned gift he’d gotten her.
He looked over his shoulder, but there wasn’t a soul to be seen in their alleyway, and so he turned his attention back to her. “Shut your eyes,” he said.
“What?”
“You heard me.” Her eyelids fluttered nervously shut, and he pulled the thin, velvet-wrapped package from his pocket. Brushing wisps of hair from her face, he gently placed a pair of spectacles on her nose.
Gasping, her hands flew up to her face, fingering the frames. “What have you—?”
“Hush. And keep your eyes shut for the full effect.” He reached around, tying the thin ribbon that secured them to her head. “There. You may open them.”
He laughed, warmed by her look of wide-eyed amazement.
“Oh, Aidan.” She studied him up and down, outlining with her finger the path of her gaze. “Oh,” she said again, “Oh, Aidan!”
He’d given gifts before in his life, but he’d always been careful to remain anonymous. When he was enslaved, he’d always found a way to help the younger, more innocent lads. But such gestures could be misconstrued as weakness, and so his help had always come in secret. He’d never been there to see the moment of surprise, the realization of pleasure. “Do you like them?”
She fingered his shirt. “Did you know, there are the tiniest wee threads that make up the weave of this fabric? I see them, even in these shadows.”
He laughed, gratified to see her so animated. His heart soared to think this happiness of hers had been his doing. “Aye, I knew it.”
“Though I think they’re just for reading,” she said, looking beyond him, to the mouth of the alley. “They appear to”—she alternately peered up over, then through, the lenses—“distort things that are far away.”
“Dear Beth.” He took his index finger and gently pushed the spectacles all the way up the bridge of her nose. “I asked if you like them.”
“Oh, I do,” she said, meeting his gaze in utter earnest. He noted the telltale uncertainty that generally preceded one of her blushes. “But I’m afraid”—she touched a finger to one edge of the spectacles—“I’m afraid I must look a sight.”
He studied her, a smile broad on his face. Her eyes were a bit magnified, those mysterious yellow flecks enhanced, leaving her looking more than ever as though she could see all, understand all. “You do look a bit owlish,” he added with a laugh. “But a very pretty owl indeed.”
She smiled back at him, and he was pleased to see her self-consciousness beginning to ebb. “I’m tempted to give you a gift every day of the week,” he told her. “Just to get you in the habit.”
“Oh, no, Aidan.” She shook her head vehemently. “These are too much as it is.”
“Silly woman.” Reaching around, he gently untied the ribbon. “It was long past time you got a decent pair of spectacles. I see you, straining to do your tallies by firelight.”
“They are a wonder.” Taking them from his hand, she held them out of the shadows, catching the light, tilting them this way and that. “This … this is more than I ever could have imagined.”
Her sweet smile had him fantasizing that the this she referred to wasn’t the pair of spectacles, but rather the two of them.
“But promise you won’t buy me anything more,” she said, earnestness drawing a faint line between her brows. “I don’t need anything more.”
“Hmm.” He’d spotted a dress in Aberdeen with pretty blue and yellow stitching about the neck that he thought might bring out the color of her eyes. “On the contrary. I think there’s much indeed that you need.”
She raised a saucy brow, and a laugh exploded from him, surprised by the flash of heat in her eyes. “You wicked, wee minx,” he muttered, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Clear that look from your face, or you’ll find me kissing you again.”
She laughed with him, and the carefree sound of it loosened something in his chest.
“I need to hear more of that.” At her inquisitive look, he said, “Your laughter. I don’t hear enough of it.”
The joy drained from her face, and he regretted his words. It appeared he’d only reminded Elspeth of her current worries.
“Aye, you nearly made me forget my troubles. What did you find out about Fraser?” She gave him a hard look. “But you’ve got troubles too. Why won’t you tell me of them? I can help you find your man. And where, pray tell, did you ever find the money to buy me such a lavish gift?”
He stiffened. “Not lavish.” But she spoke the truth: the money he’d spared for her gift would’ve been better spent tracking his enemy.
Money. It seemed always to come down to money. She was being married off to some aging blackguard, because of money.
“My finances are not your concern, Beth.” As if he had any finances to speak of. All he had to show for his life was a jealously guarded pouch, filled with hard-earned coin intended to create the illusion that he was a man of worth.
Again, it came down to worth, to worthiness.
He needed to remember what he was about, and that was tracking the man with the black pearl. Until he found and bested the man who’d stolen him, his life wouldn’t be truly restored.
But once he destroyed his enemy, he could get on with the rest of it, starting over, making a real life as a real man would. He’d start by saving Elspeth from this suspicious match. Then he’d make his own money, set himself up with a good living so he could care for his woman.
And none of that would happen with him mooning like a love-struck idiot. She’d distracted him, but it was time to get down to business. He narrowed his eyes.
“Now there’s a little matter of something I think you’re hiding on your person.”
She looked like a startled doe, and he forced himself to keep a straight face. It’d do no good to scare her. Though, he thought with a grin, he might enjoy a little fun.
The hard years had honed his instincts, and those instincts told him the papers she’d stolen were hidden somewhere on her person. “You’re wicked,” he told her. “And do you know why?”
“No.” He’d expected her to look shocked, but mostly she looked amazed.
It spurred him on. Staring at her parted lips, he said, “You distracted me.”
“I did?”
“You did,” he said, chuckling at the disbelief in her voice. He couldn’t help it, he had to touch her again. Had to kiss her, and smell her, and taste her. He leaned in to nuzzle her, and pointing his fingertip onto the side of her throat, he whispered along her skin, “You had me looking here.”
She made a gratifying little gasping sound, and he swept his hands down to clutch her firmly about her waist, tugging her closer. His cock stiffened at once, and he pressed into her, his flesh chafing against the wool of his plaid, straining to press through the layers of her skirts, to the soft, innocent flesh hidden beneath.