Chapter 18

18

S he was here.

Dougal's fingers tingled with the need to lace them through Poppy's. To tug her toward him and kiss her. To tell her again how much he loved her. Somehow, miraculously really, he was able to contain himself as they meandered down the well-worn path from the castle to the water's edge.

The Kyle of Tongue was smooth today, high tide, and he hoped that the calmness of the water somehow seeped into his bones.

The very thing he'd known he'd wanted for the better part of a year—a life with Poppy—was on the verge of becoming a reality.

Poppy bent beside him and picked up a stick that had already been properly chewed on one end by Sentry. She didn't avoid the obviously slobbered wood as she tossed it a dozen or more yards away, which Dougal found endearing. She must like dogs, and that was a huge bonus for him.

Sentry barked and took off running, intent on maiming the stick once more.

"He's a rather rambunctious fellow, isn't he?" she said with a laugh, watching as Sentry bounded toward the stick, then somersaulted over the downed limb, grabbing and shaking the life from it before he ran back toward them.

"That he is."

"Come here, boy," Poppy called, clapping her hands.

"Do ye like dogs?" he asked.

"Oh, yes." Poppy's eyes lit up. "We never had one, but I always liked playing with my friends' and neighbors' dogs."

"Why's it that ye never had one?"

"Oh, they made Papa sneeze something fierce. Anytime he went around them, it would start a fit. He couldn't even enjoy a good hunt, and his sneezing scared off all the prey, so he was hardly invited out."

"That is unfortunate. But ye and your sister didna inherit the sneezing affliction?"

"Oh, I sneeze plenty," she laughed, followed by a tiny sneeze. "But not as bad as my Papa, and I'm also not going to ruin a hunt. And more to the point, I don't care. I'd sneeze all day just to play or cuddle."

Anise laughed at something the colonel said, drawing both of their attention toward the couple.

"I do hope your sister is…feeling better," Dougal said.

"She is," Poppy assured him. "And I think the attention the colonel pays her is a balm to her heart. Rather than think about what Sir John had done, she was more concerned with herself, that maybe it had been her that pushed Sir John away. Mama didn't want to tell her the part about his disease just yet. Thought it might be too delicate. I think she'll realize the truth eventually, but seeing that another man is interested in her is good. I only worry that she might be too fickle for your colonel friend."

"Och, Austen can take care of himself. I'm just glad she's out and about rather than hiding." Dougal winced as soon as he said it, recalling that hiding had been exactly what Poppy had done a few days before.

"Everyone needs time to adjust." She shrugged.

"I didna mean to offend."

She smiled at him. "You did nothing of the sort. I thought you were referring to your yearlong escape."

Dougal laughed. "Touché. Your hiding for one day this week hardly compares."

"Exactly." Her eyes danced with merriment. "I am glad we've both decided to face each other and whatever there might be between us."

"I am too."

This time, Dougal picked up the stick. He tossed it over the colonel's head, sending Sentry barreling down the water's edge and splashing Austen and Anise. Anise squealed, her arms flailing, and the colonel swooped in, lifting her in his arms and carrying her away from the splashing dog.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Poppy asked.

"Maybe." Dougal smirked.

"Rogue," she teased.

Dougal grinned. "They might have needed a push. Look at them now."

Anise had her arms around the colonel's shoulders and was gazing at him as he cradled her to his frame in a way that was both inspiring and endearing.

"What a matchmaker you are," Poppy said with a light laugh. "Though to be fair, my friend Lady Ava, daughter of Earl of Heatherfield, is by far the best matchmaker in this country."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Only one or two of her attempts have ended in disaster. The rest give stellar reviews." The tinkle of Poppy's laugh was infectious.

Dougal chuckled. "I actually think I've heard of her. But she's no' yet wed herself."

"No. Been out a few seasons. She's a year older than me and has yet to find a man she is willing to devote the rest of her life to. Though to be honest, I think she's focusing on finding love matches for other people so she can avoid her own happiness."

"I know something of avoiding happiness."

Poppy stared up at him, her eyes searching his. "But no longer?"

"I refuse to avoid it. I am facing happiness head-on. Right now. Forever."

Her lips curled up, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Shall I change my name to happiness then?"

Dougal wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek, but feared doing so in front of the others, then thought, what the hell? He did it anyway, mesmerized by the smoothness of her skin, cooled only slightly by the Highland air. "Nay, Poppy suits ye perfectly."

She leaned into his caress. "Since when did you become so dashing?"

"The moment I met ye."

"Flatterer." Her eyes danced.

"When it comes to ye, sweet Poppy, I will flatter until I have no breath left in my body." He wrapped around his finger a lock of hair not pulled back into her low knot.

"Your wooing is quite good."

"The more I practice, the better it will be. Like kissing," he drawled.

"Is that so?" Her gaze slid to his mouth, and desire pooled in his gut. "Should we…practice?"

Dougal nearly choked at her bold suggestion, for he very much wanted to tug her into his embrace. "I think it is only fair?—"

But just then, Sentry crashed into the back of Dougal's legs, causing his knees to buckle, and though he caught himself before he stumbled, it wasn't before he reached forward and accidentally pressed his hands to Poppy's breasts to catch his balance.

Her mouth popped open, and so did his as they both stared down at her chest with his hands splayed over her bosom. They were ample and soft, and he wanted nothing more than to massage them. To bend down and kiss them. This reminded him of those moments in the garden a year ago where he'd brushed his palms over her taut nipples.

"Dougal," she said.

"Ah, sorry about that." He yanked his hands away, a pain in itself when he was perfectly happy there. Impossible, but his face flamed with heat. "Did they see?" He didn't want to look behind him at the colonel and Anise.

"Thankfully, no."

"Please do accept my apologies for, uh…touching ye inappropriately."

"Well, it was an accident, and also…it is only inappropriate if I didn't want you to touch me."

Dougal groaned. "Poppy…"

"This walk has too much open space. You should have suggested the woods." Her pout was put on.

He chuckled. "I would relish the chance to ravish ye against a tree."

Poppy's eyes flashed with a yearning he felt deep in his bones. "I want to be ravished."

"I can make that happen," he said in a gravelly and tight voice.

Dougal let out a low whistle. Not only did Sentry come to his side, but a footman appeared from where he'd been posted by the castle, and Sentry obeyed Dougal's command to follow the footman for the rest of his walk.

Then he turned to the colonel and Anise. "Shall I show ye my garden maze? It was built by my great-grandmother. We can get lost in there for hours." He turned to Poppy and winked, watching in fascination as her cheeks pinkened.

He leaned low. "I think we might have a tree in the garden…or at the verra least, a bench."

"Oh," she murmured, half-sigh, half-gasp.

* * *

Being in a playful mood, Anise ran ahead to the maze, and the colonel shot Dougal a look Poppy didn't miss that might have said something along the lines of "I'm in trouble."

Which, if the colonel chased after Anise, he was.

But, on the same note, Poppy very much wanted him to chase after her sister because that meant she and Dougal would be left alone. That her ravishment could begin, and she very much wanted her mouth on his.

The moment they'd started walking arm in arm along the Kyle, her limbs had thrummed with anticipation for a kiss they hadn't shared since the day before.

How funny that if she agreed to marry him—which she planned to do—she could kiss him whenever she wanted, but before they said, "I do," they had to sneak around? Though she supposed if they were in public or other people were around, they probably weren't supposed to show affection.

She had seen her mother and father kiss, but only when they didn't realize anyone was watching.

Dougal held out his hand to her. "I know the perfect spot."

Poppy didn't hesitate to put her hand in his, a spark of lightning flying up her arm the moment they touched, sending her entire body vibrating. Was he really going to ravish her in the garden? Did she want to be ravished?

She nearly laughed at this last question. She most certainly did.

Ahead in the garden, she could hear the charming sound of her sister's laugh, followed by the roar of the colonel's boisterous chuckle.

"They are having fun," Dougal said.

"Good, it will keep them occupied and not looking for us." Oh, how brazen she was and how very much she didn't care.

Dougal grinned and led her through the maze, twisting and turning, the sound of her sister and Colonel Austen growing fainter and fainter until they reached a wall covered in ivy and a dead end.

"Have you lost your way?" she asked.

"No' at all." He swept away the ivy, revealing a tiny latch, which he lifted and then pushed, the door creaking open to reveal a secret garden.

"Oh my," Poppy said as he led her through and shut the door behind them. All around her were various blooms, the fragrance mesmerizing. "This is so stunning."

"No' as stunning as ye." Dougal pulled her into his arms, and she followed his tug, pressing herself against him and leaning up on tiptoes to steal the kiss she'd been thinking about for hours.

Dougal's mouth brushed over hers, softly at first, then firmer, then downright primal as his tongue swept into her mouth to claim ownership.

She sighed into his kiss, her tongue dancing over his, her fingers curling against his shoulders. Every part of her body came alive with his kiss, tingles, heat and a voracious pulse between her thighs that begged to be satisfied.

They'd kissed before, several times now. Though the kisses that came between London and now seemed tame in comparison. Dougal wasn't holding anything back now, and she wasn't either. He'd promised her a ravishing, and she was getting his full and undivided attention.

" Mo chreach ," he murmured that Gaelic expletive against her lips, but rather than be offended, she laughed.

"Bloody hell," she replied, smiling before she sucked at his tongue.

Dougal growled low in his throat, wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her closer, pressing himself fully against her. His breeches did nothing to hide the evidence of his desire, long, hard and thick, his arousal pressed with passion against her midsection, and Poppy, who was an innocent still in most senses of the word, knew at once what it meant to be a hedonistic wanton. She rubbed against his arousal, gasping at the increase of thrumming between her thighs; the heat that needed and wanted his touch.

"Slow down," he murmured, panting. "I'm supposed to ravish ye, no' the other way around."

"I don't even know what I'm doing…just feeling," she confessed. "And it feels so good."

Dougal's head fell back, and he sucked in a breath. She watched his shoulders rising and lowering with his heavy breaths, and then he took her by the hand and led her toward the promised bench, only this one was a swing suspended from a tree, slowly rocking as they sat upon it.

Poppy leaned into Dougal, putting her legs over his thighs, and then she gasped as he took her bold move a step further and tugged her completely onto his lap, her bottom pressed to the hardness of his strong legs.

At the contact, Dougal let out a low groan. Not a second later, he pressed his hands on either side of her face, guiding her mouth to his. His kiss was demanding—pure, unadulterated passion.

Poppy attempted for only a split second to put her mind to rights as his kiss thoroughly explored every inch of her mouth, but why would she want to be rational when her entire being wanted to be as enraptured as he was? Her fingers trembled, and every swipe of his tongue, every brush of his lips, had her going mad with need, with thoughts of what allowing herself to be ravished meant.

In Dougal's arms, she was certain she'd never been happier. Nor more nervous. Angsty thoughts plucked at her desire the way a seamstress poked a hem, but she ignored them. Pushed those thoughts aside. He loved her. Wanted to marry her. This was what she wanted. Poppy raised a hand to his shoulder and squeezed the taut muscles beneath the fabric of his clothes.

Shivers raced up and down her spine and limbs, leaving tingles of anticipation. Her nipples grew taut, aching with need and sending frissons of pleasure to pull at her core. She shifted on his lap, pressing herself to his chest to feel the length of him, his warmth on her body beneath hers.

Her fingers trailed up to his neck, feeling the thrumming pulse under his skin.

* * *

Dougal wasted no time in taking possession of Poppy's offered mouth. They both let out sighs of satisfaction as the frenzy of their kiss turned to touching exploration. An urgency took hold of Dougal as he slid his hand up her thigh. He held her, pulled tight to him so he could feel every lush curve against him. Poppy was a goddess among women, her fingers stroking his hair and sending him to the heavens.

He hooked his hand underneath one of her knees, and Poppy shifted, wrapping her arms around his neck and then she shocked him by wrapping one leg around his hip.

Mo chreach!

He'd promised her a ravishing, and yet it seemed his temptress had taken the helm, ravishing him instead. Unable to help himself, he slid his hands beneath her bottom, pulled the other leg around his hip and held her like that, straddled against him on the rocking bench. The heat of her sex emanated through her gown to his breeches, making his already scorching blood burn hotter, his groin throbbing with the need to claim her fully.

Dougal needed to set some boundaries and put an end to this, or she was going to become his body and soul before they said, "I do."

Just this one indulgence. A kiss. A few touches. Her, rocking against him. All clothes left on.

Her lush breasts were crushed to his chest. He groaned at the softness of her curves surrounding him. Just a touch…he slid a hand over her ribs to cup a plush swell. Even through the fabric, he could feel the warmth of her skin and wanted to feel the weight of her naked, soft breast against his palm. Dougal rubbed a thumb over her nipple, reveling in her gasp, the soft inhale so sensual against his mouth.

Poppy scraped her fingernails along the back of his neck, massaged his shoulders and rocked her hips against his in a rhythm that made him think he'd died and gone to heaven. Her thighs were clenched tight around his hips, making him hard with need.

He had to stop now if he was going to. While he still had a thread of control left. He was very close to coming completely unraveled, shredding their clothes, and taking her on the ground of the walled-in garden. Dougal tried to take his lips from Poppy's, but she only leaned in closer and clutched harder, making him want to forget all his promises to save making love for their wedding night.

"Please, Dougal, let's not stop yet," she murmured, her words an enticing invitation.

How could he deny her? Or himself…

They'd begun this slow seduction in a garden hundreds of miles away a year ago. And he'd craved her ever since. Dougal wanted to give in to their desire, to throw caution to the wind. But he also knew that if he didn't put a halt to this rapturous encounter, it would end with Poppy pinned beneath him while he buried himself deep inside her hot, wet...

Even the images he conjured in his mind were too much to bear. Just one more little taste. He pulled her in for another heated kiss, feeling his way along her skirts until his hand was underneath. He skimmed his way from her silky calf to her smooth thigh.

Poppy whimpered and hugged him closer. Urged him to continue his exploration as his finger went higher, higher still, through the slit of her drawers and brushed the silky curls of her damp sex. Poppy cried out, and he groaned as he stroked, gentle and slow at first and then with quicker, firmer circles. Beneath his touch, she trembled.

"Dougal," she whispered.

He knew what she wanted, what she silently pleaded for. It was what he wanted for her too. For her to break apart. He stroked and caressed and kissed until her entire body convulsed, and he swallowed her cry of passion, kissing her until the quaking subsided.

As much as he wanted more, this had to be enough.

For now.

Dougal finally tore himself away. He lifted her from his lap, placed her on the bench and got down on his knees in front of her.

"Lass, I beg of ye, marry me. I canna go another day without knowing your sweet honey is mine."

"Bring me a priest, and I'll say, ‘I do' right now," she teased, pinching his chin. "Though I think my mother would be disappointed at being left out of the ceremony."

"Soon then."

"Yes, very soon."