Her breasts pulled taut at the daring touch, until Elspeth couldn’t help but lean close to take a kiss that made her forget papers and pirates.
For now.
Not even hauling water for young Bridget could wipe the smile from Aidan’s face. In fact, he’d volunteered for the duty, stunning his sister, but he couldn’t help how expansive he’d felt since seeing Elspeth the day before.
Since kissing her.
Elspeth was sweet and untried, yet so very unabashed, with a passion that’d nearly undone him. Twice in the night he’d been forced to seek his own release, so vivid was the memory of her, lovely and pure.
Lovely, with fey, yellow-flecked eyes, and a mouth shaped like a delicate bud, equal parts tender and hungry. And yet it was Elspeth’s spirit that’d redoubled his desire. She saw him for who he was, for who he wanted to be. Saw straight through his facade to his very heart, and rather than turn away, she’d embraced him, had made him feel all the more complete.
With Elspeth he felt like a man—his own man—more than any fight or fisticuffs or hard labor had ever made him feel. She was a gift, this strange tutor of his, and the bachelors of Aberdeenshire were fools not to have noticed before he.
“What’d the girl threaten you with?” a voice asked from behind him.
Aidan’s smile flickered, but he’d not let his twin put a damper on his mood. He finished drawing the bucket from the massive well before he looked over his shoulder to face him. “Girl?”
“Bridge.” Cormac nodded at the bucket. “What’d she say to get you on water duty?”
Bridget—not Elspeth. Aidan breathed a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh, her. The chit has enough on her plate, and this is easy enough for me.” He stood, lifting the bucket from the ground as though it weighed nothing, proving his point.
Though his little sister’s brash ways still irritated, watching Elspeth’s struggles had made Aidan more sympathetic to the vast amounts of work required to run a home.
Cormac lifted a questioning brow. “Helping her like you’re helping that Elspeth?”
Aidan bristled, wondering if that was a smirk he read on his brother’s face. Choosing to ignore it, he walked past him, headed across the courtyard and back toward the kitchens. He was a proud man, particularly in front of his twin, and so had underplayed how much Elspeth was tutoring him. No surprise, then, that Cormac might misunderstand Aidan’s work on the Farquharson farm.
He felt Cormac walk up behind him to ask, “What are your motives with that girl?”
“Why would you think I have motives?”
“I’ve seen you on the road to her farm. A lot.” Cormac reached out, stopping him with a hand on his arm. “She’s no doxy to be toyed with.”
Aidan shook off his brother’s grip. “I’d never think to toy with her.”
“So why?” Cormac asked, but Aidan just stared blankly in reply, and so he repeated, “Why go to her so much?”
Aidan sensed his brother wasn’t going to let it go, and so he put the bucket down. “Why not go to her? She’s a good woman in need of help.” When Cormac had something to say, he was as tenacious as a dog with a bone— best to give him the chance to say his piece and be done with it.
“I know it’s been years since you’ve been around Scottish women,” his brother said in an aggravatingly deliberate tone. “But Elspeth Farquharson is a homely sort of girl. A spinster who probably—”
Resentment, frustration, and envy drove his fist, and his right hook connected with his brother’s face before he knew what he was about. It was something he’d wanted to do for some time.
Cormac reeled backward, and caught off guard, he tripped on the uneven turf, falling to the ground. He sat up at once, rubbing his jaw, the look in his eyes more disbelief than pain. “What the devil was that for?”
“Don’t speak so of her,” Aidan said, his voice flat and hard as steel.
Cormac studied him for a time, until finally he said, “I see.”
Aidan watched his brother’s brow soften in understanding, and it made his own furrow all the more. “You see nothing.”
Cormac only rolled his shoulders, proffering his hand for a boost up, but Aidan didn’t reach out to grab it.
“Give it a rest, Aid,” Cormac said, his voice tired. “We may not know you, but we certainly remember how much we loved you. You’ve got to meet us in the middle sometime.”
Aidan glared at Cormac. The brother whom he’d once loved more than anyone. More than anything. He tried to recall the boy who’d insisted on climbing the chimney. The boy who’d vexed him beyond measure. Who’d squabbled with him, and bugged him.
And who’d always stood by his side when nobody else did.
He’d seen the joy in Cormac’s eyes when they’d met again, for the first time in more than a decade, on that grim Aberdeen dock. He’d pushed his brother away, and had been pushing them all away ever since.
Except for Elspeth. She’d penetrated his defenses, and he’d let her, and it’d felt so good. Like a breath of sea air after weeks in the ship’s hold.
It would take all his pride, all his courage, to do the same with his family. Though he didn’t know why it should. They’d grieved him, but Highland life was hard, and thirteen years were long, and life went on.
He’d take a chance. It was what Elspeth would advise him to do.
He reached down, clasping Cormac’s hand, and pulled him to standing. Aidan stepped back quickly, though, putting space between them. He needed this reunion to happen one step at a time. And the next step was making sure Cormac understood one thing. “I have your word you’ll not disparage Elspeth again?”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he replied quickly. Cormac bent to pick up the bucket, adding, “Truly, I wasn’t dis
paraging Elspeth. I like the girl.”
Aidan glowered daggers at him.
“Not like that, you half-wit.” Cormac rolled his eyes.
As they set off for the kitchen, Aidan knocked his shoulder hard into his twin. “Who’s the half-wit?”
They walked on, their pace slow, unanimously agreeing to prolong the moment, though neither would ever confess to it.
When Cormac spoke again, his tone was grave. “I knew, Aidan. I felt that you were out there. Alive, somewhere. We’d been inseparable for years. We bickered, yes, but always we were together. Always we were one. We were even born at the same time.”
“Well, I was first, you’ll recall.” Aidan tossed off the jest, needing to break the intensity of his brother’s words.
Cormac gave him a playful slug on the arm. “Then act it.”
Aidan relented, saying in a low voice, “I knew too. I knew you lived.” He smirked. “Just as I knew I’d someday come back to find you and Marj married.”
Their laughter broke out at once. “Mar-jorie,” they said in unison.
“Crivvens, man.” Aidan shook his head, pretending exasperation. “You and that girl. From the start.”
“My wife, you mean,” Cormac said with mock severity.
“Your wife,” he said drily. “Better you than me.” He had to sidestep to avoid Cormac’s thrown elbow. With a laugh, Aidan added, “So, what do you get from her anyway?”
“Well that’s an easy one to answer,” Cormac said with a wink and a nudge.
“I’m serious,” he said, realizing it was true. The feelings growing in his heart for Elspeth were overpowering— sharp, and hot, and terrifying too. It was hard to imagine they weren’t the rarest of all emotions. But perhaps the sensation was normal, perhaps it was what men felt for their wives. Perhaps his wife was precisely what Aidan wanted Elspeth to be.
They’d reached the castle, their sisters’ voices echoing off the stone corridor. Cormac handed the bucket back to Aidan, nodding toward the sound. “Bridge’ll be wanting her water. Five minutes ago, if I know our sister.”
“Aye,” Aidan replied with a knowing smile. It seemed he wasn’t the only MacAlpin of the opinion that the girl could stand to be taken down a peg.
Cormac’s expression grew serious. “Have a care, Aid.”
“I do.” The words came quickly, dismissively.
“No.” Cormac put a hand on his shoulder. “Truly, Aidan. Have a care. It was my fault we lost you once, and I’ll not see it happen again.”
“It wasn’t your—”
Cormac punched his shoulder. “Just shut up and promise if you need help you’ll tell me.”
“Aye,” Aidan said. He met his twin’s eyes with a smile. “I will. I promise.”
Chapter 19
Elspeth lay in bed. The sun had yet to rise, but she couldn’t sleep for thoughts of Aidan. And his kiss.
Restless, she rolled onto her side, thinking of his mouth. It had been gentle at first, and then harder, and hungrier. Blood thrummed through her body at the memory.
Nestling deep under her covers, she grazed a slow hand along her torso and cupped her breast. Her skin tingled at the memory of his hands on her sides, of his thumbs roving that perilous line where rib meets bosom. She thumbed her nipple, and it stiffened, she imagining what he might do with his fingers.
She played the scene over in her mind, and this time Aidan didn’t end the kiss. He didn’t insist on propriety, didn’t act like the most seemly of gentlemen and lift her to her feet.
Instead, in her fantasy, he rolled her onto her back. The mud would’ve been warm, still holding the heat of his body. But the air on her legs would be cool, her skirts rucked high on her hips …
“You, in there!” Her father’s voice shattered her reverie, calling to her from the other room.
Her eyes shot open, her heart leaped to her throat, and her hand flew from her breast. Even though her father was in the other room, even though he never entered hers, Elspeth’s heart pounded.
