Once a Wallflower, Always a Wallflower (The Inheritance Clause Book 3) Page 8

  His posture relaxed, and he sent a reluctant smile her way. “Must you speak so much sense, lass.”

  “Always.”

  “You are still shivering.”

  She had hardly noticed she was still cold. It could have been from her annoyance or from the lingering feeling of his kiss, but heat flowed readily through her veins. However, her teeth still chattered, and when she glanced down at her hand upon his arm, she noted her fingers shook.

  Lachlan sighed and enveloped her in his arms once more. “I will not kiss you, though,” he vowed, his tone amused.

  “Not even—” A flash briefly lit the interior of the cottage. Then a crack echoed across the valley, followed by heavy rumble. A cry escaped her, and her throat tightened. For a moment, she was in the carriage again, aware of a gunshot having been let off and waiting for it to be turned upon her. She tried to draw in a shaky breath, but the sickness in her throat made it almost impossible.

  The hands on her back rubbed up and down. “You are safe. All is well.” He said the words as though singing a soothing lullaby to a child. With each rub of his hands and each accented word, she felt the noose loosening. Eventually, she was able to take in full breaths. She leaned her head against his chest.

  When would this be over? No wonder he had no desire to kiss her. As much as she thought she had made progress, perhaps she had not. Who was she to lecture him about his past when one lightning bolt sent her reeling?

  Minerva lifted her head to look up at him. The terror had passed, quicker than ever before. Maybe she was not as strong as she had hoped, but with him looking down at her, his eyes searching hers, his heart beating fiercely under her palm, she knew she needed to find even more bravery.

  Bravery to pursue this. To find out what it was between them. And to kiss him again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lachlan drew the wagon to stop beside the inn. He peered up at the battered sign that swung haphazardly from an angled hinge that looked as though it might fall at any time, confirming they were at the correct location.

  He glanced at the sleeping lass next to him. Minerva had made a makeshift pillow out of his jacket, her long neck exposed as her head leaned against his shoulder. Her hand was loosely folded in his, something she had initiated right before she fell asleep.

  A lad scurried out from the stable and lifted his cap briefly. “Stable your horses for you, sir?”

  Lachlan nodded and cleared his throat, lightly shaking Minerva. “Minerva,” he whispered. “Minerva, we’re here.”

  She shifted but did not wake. He tried once more to shake Minerva awake, but all she did was move her head farther onto his shoulder, her wild golden curls spilling into his lap.

  Lachlan couldn’t resist a small smile. She was charming, even when deep in sleep. He gently coaxed her head back up before stepping down from the carriage. He reached inside and helped Minerva stumble out of the carriage.

  A whine escaped her throat. Her eyes fluttered open, groggy. “We’re here already?” she mumbled.

  “Aye,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Can you walk with me into the inn?”

  She shook her head, her eyes fluttering closed.

  Lachlan glanced at the lad, who shrugged. “I’ll get your bags, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Lachlan lifted Minerva, sweeping her feet off the ground as he cradled her in his arms, holding her small body against his broad chest. She tucked her head just under his chin, her arms wrapping around his neck.

  He easily carried her off the street and into the inn, where they checked in, and he carried her up the stairs.

  It took some fiddling to fit the key into the lock with his arms full, but he managed to open the door and stride into the room, the fireplace already lit and warm. He carefully set Minerva on the bed. She curled into a tight ball. Lachlan chuckled, bending to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “I don’t think you thought this solo travelling thing through, lass,” he said softly, removing her hat and gingerly touching a soft curl.

  Minerva stirred. “You don’t plan out an adventure,” she mumbled, cracking her eyes open. “They occur when one takes a leap of faith.”

  Lachlan shook his head, his lips curled in a soft smile. “I suppose I wouldn’t have met you if you hadn’t taken that leap.”

  “I am not certain if I took it or whether I was forced.” Minerva was blinking now, becoming fully awake. “But I am grateful, regardless.” She peered around the room. “Thank you for carrying me in.”

  “It was no trouble,” he said. He stood and pulled open a bedside drawer, where extra sheets were kept. He shook them out, feeling the clean fabric under his fingers. Minerva watched as he stood, draping the sheets over a long, cushioned couch near the fire.

  “What are you doing?” she drawled, sitting up. Her long gown splayed out behind her on the bed.

  “Making up a bed,” Lachlan said. He noticed the defiant clench in her jaw and spoke before she had a chance to. “I know, I know. We have shared a bed before. But it is time I behaved correctly.”

  Minerva stood, silent. Then she wandered behind the privacy screen.

  Lachlan borrowed a few pillows from the bed and placed them on the sofa, then stood and admired his handiwork.

  He tried not to think of her behind the screen, splashing water over her skin. Naked skin. Bare skin. Skin that he wished to touch. He bit back a groan and swallowed, readjusting the corner of his bed covers.

  She stepped out from behind the screen, and Lachlan turned at the sound of the floorboards creaking. When he saw her, heat flooded his body, the blood pounding hot and fast.

  She had her chemise on—the one that covered her from head to toe. However, with the glow of an oil lamp lit behind her, it made it almost translucent, revealing the shadow shape of her. The fabric rippled softly as she walked, the dark centers of her breasts visible beneath the airy fabric.

  “Lachlan?”

  “I think it’s best we get some sleep,” he said. His voice was gruff, even to his own ears. The blood had rushed to his cock, which had responded violently upon seeing her.

  “Come to bed with me,” she said, her voice lilting with mischief.

  Lachlan shook his head, refusing to look at her. He shed his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair beside the door. He was glad Minerva was finding her courage, but this was getting to be too much.

  He heard her soft footsteps as she approached him. His skin tingled when she touched his arm, coming up behind him and pressing her slender body against his. “Will you keep denying me?” she whispered in his ear, the wisp of her breath tantalizing. “I want you, and I think you want me.”

  Lachlan groaned, tilting his head to the ceiling. He didn’t know where she’d found this sudden determination, but it was making her impossible to resist. “I want you,” he admitted.

  Her arms snaked around his waist, locking around his stomach. “Lachlan, please…there can be no shame in this. I am convinced of it.”

  Still, he shook his head. “Minerva…” he warned.

  She paid him no heed. Her hands had lowered, unpopping a button. He sucked in a breath as his cock hardened. “I’ve never lain with a man before,” she said, her mouth hot on his neck. She had to be on her tiptoes for her lips to be so close. He was a full foot taller than her, and then some.

  He snatched at her hand just as it dipped underneath his breeches. “Minerva,” he gasped. “I do not know what has happened to make you so bold but think carefully about what you’re doing.”

  Her fingers brushed his firm cock. Her eyes widened, and that innocence that always seemed to draw him in sent a dart straight to his heart. God, he wanted her. The pulse of desire had reached a wild heat. He turned, facing her, and grasped her warm face in his hands. He crushed his lips against hers, relishing her pliable, unbelievably soft lips.

  A small gasp sounded at the back of her throat with his sudden action, but she melded into him, arching her back. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling
her closer. His cock pressed against her hip. He knew she could feel it but didn’t care. He wanted her to feel his desire for her.

  She responded eagerly, her arms locking around his neck and pulling him close as they kissed, the heat building between them. She removed his hand from her face and lowered it, pressing his palm against a supple breast. He felt the hard nub of her nipple against the thin fabric of her nightdress.

  Lachlan lifted her, carrying her to the bed and pressing himself on top of her, devouring her lips. Her breathing became irregular, loud in his ears. He moved his lips down to the nape of her neck, kissing the soft flesh there.

  With his hand still on one of her breasts, he let his other hand wander, searching for the hem of her nightdress. He quickly slipped his hand under the thin fabric, grabbing at her knee, then running his large hand up to her thigh, gently rubbing.

  Minerva sucked in a surprised gasp when he squeezed her breast, massaging it as he bit at her collarbone.

  He longed for her body, for the sweet release he knew she could give him. Abandoning all decorum, he moved his hand from her thigh up to the soft, downy hair between her legs, gently stroking. With a low grunt, he inserted two fingers, slipping between her silky folds.

  Minerva arched with a high-pitched gasp, her eyes closing, full lips parted in pleasure. Lachlan took his time, giving her long, slow strokes with his fingers. The area quickly became wet, intoxicatingly desirable.

  He drew his lips from her neck, watching her with mounting pleasure as she lay prone on the bed, writhing in response to his deft fingers. “Lachlan,” she moaned. “Do not stop.”

  He added a third finger, inserting them deep inside her and finding the perfect pressure point—her hips bucked and twisted when he found it. Unable to stand the teasing nightdress any longer, he pulled it up and over her head, finally exposing her perfectly curved and naked body, pale as the moon.

  He lowered his mouth and nibbled at one of her nipples before latching his lips around it, swirling his tongue. Minerva moaned in response, hands gripping his dark hair.

  He pulled away from her breast with a small “pop” and kissed down her stomach, tongue lightly trailing along her smooth skin.

  “Lachlan,” Minerva said, a hand clutching the bedsheets. “How do women pleasure men?”

  He bit back a groan. This wee lass was going to be the death of him. His blood pounded in his ears, his cock twitching in anticipation with her words. Keeping his fingers busy inside her, he sat up and placed his knees on either side of her, making sure enough pillows were available to prop her head up. Once she was comfortable, she reached a tentative hand and lightly encircled his cock with her fingers. He showed her how to pleasure him, and she began rubbing her hand up and down its long length, starting at the base and running up to the head, and going back down again.

  Lachlan groaned deep in his throat as pleasure spasmed up his body. His fingers moved faster between her legs, desperate. He wanted to come. He needed to come. He wanted them to join together as passionate lovers, tangled impossibly together.

  “Minerva,” he moaned in one, low breath as her hand stroked his arousal.

  She sat back on the pillows, releasing his erection and arching. “Please, I think it is time.”

  Lachlan didn’t need to be told twice. He extracted his fingers and nudged his cock at her entrance. In one, swift movement, he plunged inside her, penetrating her. She cried out, both hands now gripping at the sheets, twisting them as she twisted her hips, unable to escape the burning pleasure he gave her.

  She tightened around him—she was so tight. His head swam in glorious pleasure as he moved his hips, slowly drawing himself in and out at first, then picking up the pace, thrusting in deeper each time.

  Minerva’s eyes widened, and her mouth gaped open as he thrust into her. “Lord!” she gasped. Lachlan took satisfaction in watching her composure completely crumble. She writhed on the bed, pulling him closer to her, desperately grinding her hips against his.

  Before long, they had found a perfect rhythm together. They moved as one being, bound in body and soul, as the pleasure pulsed into an exquisite explosion of mad desire. He thrust deep, drawing out at the last minute as he orgasmed, gasping from the sheer euphoria. She shuddered, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream.

  When it was all over, he collapsed next to her, his heart pounding. Minerva laid her head on his chest, her fingers tracing the line slicing down his stomach. “That was incredible,” she breathed. He could feel her blood pulsing through her body.

  He wrapped his arms around her, held her close. He didn’t know where Minerva’s adventures would take them next, but he was determined to be a part of every moment. Once this was done, he did not think he could let her go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Minerva rolled, and though still half-asleep, she was instantly aware of something missing.

  Lachlan.

  They had squeezed into this tiny bed in a tiny inn, wrapped in each other’s arms to ward off the chill that rattled through the thin windows. She was grateful for a bed for the night, but this had to be one of the worst places she had stayed in on her journey.

  Except perhaps the tumbled down old ruin.

  A smile played on her lips regardless. She might not have slept well that night, but she had been in Lachlan’s arms. As she had since she had lain with him. If it were up to her, she would have many more nights with him. Making love to a man was unlike anything she’d anticipated, and yet, she must have known it would be different or else she would not have desired him. The things she had read in books—books she was probably not meant to read—talked only of the mechanics of it. And her female friends who were married had little to say about the matter, save from the fact that it was a duty that needed to be done with annoying regularity.

  It had certainly not felt like a duty. She couldn’t imagine using such a word with Lachlan.

  Opening her eyes, she leaned over and felt the small empty gap where he should be. The sheets were still warm, so he could not have got up long ago. Perhaps he could not sleep. She was not certain she would be able to until he returned either.

  Wrapping her arms about herself, she rose from bed and padded over to the tiny window, shivering when the cool air touched her skin. There were only three rooms at this inn, and none were occupied, save from theirs now. Lachlan informed her that few frequented this place, but before the days when the towns were bigger, it had been popular with travelers going north.

  She peered out into the darkness. The only light came from the stables, where lanterns were left lit. There was little moonlight, but if she stared long enough, she could just make out the dark shape of the mountains.

  Movement caught her eye. She recognized those broad shoulders. Was he checking on the horses? She could not imagine there was a need to. He moved slowly, and Minerva frowned. His arms were raised, and it was then she noticed two figures behind him. The lamplight caught on something—a quick flash of metal.

  Her breath trapped in her throat. Whoever these men were, they were threatening Lachlan. She had to do something.

  But her feet were rooted to the floor. Her muscles were stiff. Terror thrust her heart rapidly against her ribs. These men looked no different to her kidnappers.

  She watched a few moments more, willing Lachlan to do something, anything. But she could only see the men get closer, and the blade threatened.

  Minerva closed her eyes. She drew in a long breath, filling her lungs with air. There was nothing in the room she could use as a weapon, so she would have to rely on herself. She curled her fists. She could do this.

  Sensation came back to her legs. Her heart did not slow, but she found she could breathe again. She twisted quickly, ignoring her bare feet, and hurried downstairs, only slowing when she came to the entrance to the inn. Inching the door open as quietly as possible, she slipped outside, keeping close to the edge of the building so the men would not spot her. She could not make out
the muffled argument—she suspected it was in Gaelic. But the voices were raised and angry. Lachlan still had his hands raised. He was strong, and she had seen him intimidate men before, but that was different, they had no weapon then. From the looks of the blade held confidently in one man’s hand, they would have no concerns about hurting him—or worse.

  She scanned the darkened area, pulse pounding in her ears. Her hands shook, so she bunched them tighter. What could she do? Both men looked to be large, maybe not as large as Lachlan, but far bigger than her. Only one had a weapon, though. Maybe…maybe she could cause a distraction. As the men neared Lachlan, she frantically searched the area with her gaze once more. There was nothing within reach for her to use as a weapon. She would have to use herself.

  When the man with a dagger took an aggressive step toward Lachlan, she moved, forgetting the feel of dirt beneath her feet and the chill in the air, forgetting anything apart from Lachlan. She barreled forward, a wild scream ripping from her lungs. All three men looked her way, and she lowered her head, rushing straight toward the unarmed man. It was like hitting a wall, and it was only then that she realized she had not hit his body but his fist.

  She staggered back, the air knocked from her and pain radiating through her stomach. She retched and gagged and tried to draw herself straight, but the pain was unbearable. However, when she fell to the floor, she caught a glimpse of Lachlan’s face. Her poor attempt at defending him had worked. He was already upon the man with the dagger, knocking the weapon from his hand and shoving him to the ground. The other man did not take long to react, coming up on Lachlan from behind and trying to tear him from his friend. But it did not work.

  Minerva had never seen such fury. The intense darkness of his eyes had turned into something indescribable, something almost inhuman. He lashed out with his fists, hitting anything that he could reach. She continued to drag in painful breaths, a hand clutched around her side while she watched the display. Flesh struck upon flesh, and soon, he had both men crawling upon the ground. He went to strike the man who had hit Minerva, but she lifted a hand. The man was already almost knocked senseless, and blood dripped from his face.