“You live in a castle, Greylen MacKeage.”
“Aye. I do.”
“Why?”
“I like castles.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but apparently that was all he had to say on the subject. Grace wiggled to see if he was ready to let her up. He wasn’t.
“This is your bedroom,” she said lamely.
“It is.”
“And this is your bed I’m in.”
“I so admire your mind,” he drawled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.
Dammit. She couldn’t seem to find the willpower to move.
“How did I get in your bed?”
“I brought you here.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s where you belong.”
She had to look away from him then, so she could remember to breathe. She stared up at the ceiling.
“You don’t have a shirt on,” she thought to tell him, moving her free hand to the top button on her blouse.
At least she was still dressed. Why did that disappoint her?
“I was hot.”
She was getting a little hot herself. Why was he just lying there staring at her? She didn’t have to look at him to know those evergreen eyes were watching her with the intensity and the patience of a cat preparing to pounce.
She should probably pounce first.
Grace suddenly pulled herself out from beneath his leg and rolled on top of him, bracing her hands on his chest as she straddled his waist. That got his attention.
“I want to register a complaint about your resort,” she told him, swatting his hands away when he tried to take hold of her hips. “It seems your guests go to sleep in one place and wake up in another. Are you in the habit of carrying women up to your bed, Mr. MacKeage?”
Realizing she was going to keep swatting him if he kept trying to grab her, Grey conceded and folded his hands behind his head, giving her a negligent shrug.
“Not usually,” he returned. “Only the beautiful ones.”
Grace dug her fingers into his bare chest, determined not to be swayed by his compliment.
Or by that gleam of pure male lust sparking in his eyes.
Nor would she let herself be distracted by the growing evidence of his arousal she felt beneath her.
Dammit. She’d known that if she came to Gu Bràth she’d end up in his bed. But that didn’t mean she had to fall all over him like a love-sick schoolgirl.
But she did fall, when Grey moved so quickly that Grace only had time to squeak before she found herself flat on her back again, once more pinned down by a half-naked body of forged steel. And those evergreen eyes she’d been getting lost in? They were now fire-laced spruce, full of intent.
Grey brushed the hair from her face and smiled at her with all the warmth of a preying cat who’d just caught supper. “I’ll consider your complaint registered, lass. And I’ll give ya one of my own. You’re taking way too long to kiss me.”
“I’m not in the habit of rewarding arrogance.”
He leaned back. “Arrogance? For giving you a comfortable bed to sleep in?”
“For it being your bed,” she countered. “And for being in it with me.”
He lowered his mouth to within inches of hers, smiled, and whispered, “Ah, lass. That’s not arrogance.
That’s belonging.” He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
Grace stopped blustering and kissed him back, cupping his face with her hands, splaying her fingers through his silky hair. She liked the way its wavy auburn length made her fingertips tingle. He had the softest hair.
And the hardest body. He was like hot steel, rigid with an escalating tension brought on by her teasing.
A tension that started to echo inside her own body.
“We…we should stop,” she whispered in blatant contradiction to her action, sliding her mouth over his jaw and tightening her arms around him.
“The hell we will,” he said through gritted teeth, pulling her lips back to his. Grace almost laughed at his anything but subtle desire for her. Loving Greylen MacKeage was such a natural thing, warm and fun and so very thrilling.
She opened her mouth and eagerly took his tongue inside. Her senses reeled as his scent assaulted her.
He smelled of nature, of the weather, and of himself. His chest radiated heat, and her breasts ached with longing to be naked against him. She wanted to feel the hair on his chest tickle her bare skin.
“We’re going to make love again,” she said, pulling away and staring up at him. It wasn’t a question.
He nodded. Curtly.
He was so unbelievably handsome. His eyes burned with the fire of passion, and his broad shoulders and marvelous chest radiated unimaginable strength. Grace shivered. She wanted him again with a fierceness that consumed her.
And he wanted her. She could feel his desire straining against his pants, pulsing at the very heart of her womanhood. Grace shifted to feel more of him push against her as she began unbuttoning her blouse, her eyes never leaving his, her whole body trembling with urgency.
As soon as she got her blouse open and her bra unsnapped, Grey lowered himself down until his chest covered hers. She moaned with pleasure.
He groaned in triumph.
He kissed her again, and Grace clung to him, opened her mouth to his, and wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting her hips against his erection. His groan became louder, more urgent, and as arrogantly male as he was.
He turned onto his back, taking her with him, and Grace found herself straddling his hips again. She didn’
t swat his hands away this time when he captured her breasts and sent a bolt of sensuous heat coursing through her.
Callum came bursting through the bedroom door, Morgan one step behind him.
“If you’re not wanting your carpets bloodied,” Callum said, “you’ll get yourself downstairs and shut up Stanhope.”
“Dammit. Get the hell out of here,” Grey shouted, the power of his voice jouncing Grace like an earthquake.
Callum came to a sudden stop. Morgan ran into his back. Both men turned as red as their hair and immediately faced the hearth. But they didn’t leave.
Grace certainly wanted to. Preferably by seeping through a crack in the floor. She didn’t need a mirror to know her cheeks were flaming red. She hastily buttoned her blouse back up and tried to slide off Grey.
He took hold of her hips and held her in place.
She glared at him.
He grinned at her.
“We’re sorry, Grey,” Callum said, still facing the hearth. “But Ian’s threatening to toss Stanhope off the north tower. He caught him trying to steal one of the snowcats.”
“Out,” Grey repeated, with less volume this time.
Callum and Morgan headed for the door. Morgan darted a quick look over his shoulder at Grace and shot her a wink. He turned back and all but ran over Father Daar, who came walking into the room next.
Grace closed her eyes and groaned, throwing herself forward and burying her face in Grey’s chest. She felt his sigh lift her a foot toward the ceiling and blow against her hair.
But it wasn’t until she heard Jonathan calling her name as he walked into the room that Grey finally moved. He tossed her off him and stood up, leaving Grace to tumble about wildly on the bed for balance.
She ended up rolling to the other side of the bed and slipping down onto the floor.
“Goddammit! Can a man not have privacy in his own house?” Grey shouted at them.
“Grace!” Jonathan said with a gasp, staring at her with an appalled expression distorting his face. His features suddenly darkened, and his eyes turned hard. “What are you doing?” he asked in a tone that said he already knew and that he didn’t like it.
“Anyone still in this room in two seconds is dead,” Grey said. “And that includes you, old man,” he added, glaring at the grinning priest.
Grace looked down to see if she could crawl under the bed and disappear. First, Father Daar had caught her kissing Jonathan, and now, he’d found her in bed with Grey. The man was going to make her kneel in a corner for nine days straight.