Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

" T he wee plant, Hannah," he told her, barely managing to stifle his laughter.

The scarlet hue on her cheeks revealed everything. When he remembered his own question, he realized that he could have worded it more properly. It was far too ambiguous and suggestive. However, it was also more amusing.

However, he was holding a little plant with roots in his hand, offering it to her. The question was as innocent as any other. Now, as for what was happening inside her own mind… that was a place he wanted to visit sometime.

"Oh," she said, that redness on her cheeks deepening. It was absolutely adorable to see her so confused, so stunned by her own dirty little mind. "The plant. Yes, I would like to touch it."

She snatched it from his hand, ensuring that their fingers didn't graze against each other. Once again, he wanted to burst out chuckling, but he refrained from doing so. He watched her caress the little plant, then gently put it in the ground, carefully pressing the earth around it, to keep it in place.

He noticed that she refused to look in his direction, which she had no trouble doing a few moments ago. He grinned. The fact that he was shirtless was affecting her. He had to admit he liked that idea.

"So, ye like being outside?" he asked, dropping down to his knees again, as they both started the planting process.

"Aye," she replied, stealing concealed glances at him, when he wasn't looking. Only, he noticed everything with the corner of his eye.

She looked up at the sky, at the sun, closing her eyes. Then, she opened them again as she continued talking. "I like the sun, but there is something magical about the rain."

"Magical?" he wondered, lifting an eyebrow.

"Aye," she nodded. "The feel of wetness on yer face, the sound of raindrops all around. It is simply magical. There is no other word for it."

He listened intently to the way she described something most people fled from. She, on the other hand, seemed to love it. Strangely, so did he.

"I used to run around in the rain as a wee lad," he reminisced about his own childhood with fondness. "Mother would come after me, but instead of allowin' her to take me back inside, I ran even further down the garden, all the way back, with her voice following me through the shower."

"And ye caught numerous colds, I suppose," Hannah giggled, still refusing to look up at him.

"Nay," Alistair shook his head. "I was a strong even back then. A little rain dinnae hurt me."

She looked at him underneath those long eyelashes. For some reason, he felt a little self-conscious. No woman had ever made him feel like that.

"It was like an unplanned bath," he laughed, in an effort to ease the sudden tension that seemed to arise out of nowhere. Upon those words, he lifted his hand and wiped the sweat off of his forehead, much to her amusement. He looked at his hand and realized that the dirt on his palm had turned to mud, some of which was probably left on his face as well.

"It seems to me like ye're in need of that unplanned bath now," she gestured to his forehead. He immediately realized what she was referring to.

"Oh, and ye think ye're so much cleaner, lassie?" he teased, with a raised eyebrow.

"Not much cleaner, no," she shook her head, showing him her mud-caked hands. "But a wee bit cleaner than yerself, Laird McCann."

Hearing her refer to him as the laird only seemed to make the situation even more entertaining for them both. She was teasing him, and he was happy to reciprocate in the same manner.

"Well, the laird says no one is to be cleaner than him," Alistair announced getting up. Seeing he was up to something, she followed suit, with that wonderfully spellbinding grin on her sun-kissed face.

"Nay, nay," Hannah shook her head, with her hands in front of her for additional protection from what she suspected was about to come her way. He relished the look of joy in her eyes. "Ye daenae mean to do what I think ye are?"

"I mean to do exactly that, lass," he affirmed, taking a step closer to her. "And nothin' will stop me."

"Stay where ye are," she pointed a finger at him, in a mock threat. There was nothing threatening about her gesture. It was sheer fun. "I warn ye, Alistair."

"Or what?" His eyes glistened with arousal. The world had taken on a red hue, the color of her cheeks. It washed away any doubts he had, at least for this single moment. "I do love a good challenge."

He knew that he was naked from waist up. He knew he looked good. He paid attention to look good, and she noticed it. The way she endeavored to keep her eyes focused on his, without lowering them to his chiseled chest made him proud. Even more than that, it made him desire her more than any other woman he had ever seen.

"Daenae touch me with those muddy hands of yers," she warned again, chuckling.

"Ye cannae stop me lass," he reminded her, taking another step. Now, he was dangerously close. All he needed to do was extend his hands, grab her by the waist and pull her close to him. The rest would be lost in the mist of his desires.

"I am a lady!" she announced theatrically. "I daenae wish to be dirty all over," she added, retracting from him.

"It is too late," he said through a grin.

"Nay!" she squealed in delight, turned around and started to run away from him. She grabbed the lower part of her skirt and lifted it slightly up, so she could run faster, but at the same time, keep her propriety intact. Even like this, he would catch up with her easily. That was no fun.

He watched as she ran a short distance, then he started after her. Her hair fluttered in the wind, as she kept turning around to see if he was following her. Of course, he was. There was nowhere else he would rather be, than here, with her.

"Ye cannae catch me!" she kept on teasing, as she ran.

He didn't say anything to that. He wanted this moment to last forever, for his eyes to constantly keep seeing her as she was now, unburdened by the knowledge that it was her treacherous brother who arranged for all of this, blackmailing Alistair in the process.

He blinked heavily, banishing Hunter from his mind. This was a moment solely for Alistair and Hannah. No one else.

It didn't take him long to catch up with her. His arms flew in front of him, grabbing her by the waist and turning her around, pinning her against the nearest tree.

"I caught ye, lass," he told her, still breathing heavily, just like she was. "What are ye goin' to do now?"

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She bewitched him. He dared not look down at the plump mountains of her breasts, peeking from the gown. If he did, he would shower them with kisses, and he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

"Look at what ye've done," she pretended to scold him. "Me gown is all muddy."

He refused to look down where she was pointing to. "I'll buy ye a new one, as many as ye wish."

"And ye made me run through this mud," she added, pretending to be offended. "Just look at me shoes."

"I'll buy ye a new pair," he answered in the same manner. "I'll buy ye anything ye want."

She smiled, and it was the smile of a thousand suns. The one above them would not stand a chance against her.

"Are we both dirty enough now, Laird McCann?" she asked softly, her eyes traversing the distance between his eyes and his lips, stopping on the latter.

"Not yet, lass," he shook his head.

He lifted his dirty, muddy hand so she could see it well. Then, he placed it a little above her waist, slowly dragging his palm against the clean, crisp fabric of her gown, leaving a light brown trail. He proceeded to do the same with the other hand.

"Now we are," he told her.

At that moment, she lifted her own hands, both of them, with her palms to him. They were trembling. He could notice that instantly, as she allowed them to linger in the empty space a few inches away from his naked chest. She dared not touch him, although the thought was driving him mad with desire. Neither of them dared to move.

"That isnae fair," she pouted. "Ye daenae have a gown I can make dirty."

"Make me dirty," he said, in a gruff voice that threw them both into the very fits of ecstasy.

She bit her lip at those words, and this was where he could not stop himself any longer. His lips crashed against hers, as his hands pressed her to his body. Her lips moved without a single sound, inexperienced and sweet. Yet, it inflamed him in ways no other woman had ever been able to. The raw desire in Hannah's kiss was enough to drive a man to the brink of insanity.

He wanted to be the one in control, but that was impossible, for he lost himself in the kiss as well. He wanted to show her how a seasoned lover kissed a woman, but he had crossed that line the moment he tasted her luscious lips. He was desperate for more. Her smell, her sweetness provoked him so that he was on the verge of picking her up in his arms and taking her back to the house, to his chamber and to his bed, where she belonged.

It was a kiss of claiming, a kiss of possession, and it possessed them both. His hand slid behind her neck, angling her head gently. He tried to kiss her tenderly. He wanted to take his time, but every second was a desperate yearning for more. He grabbed her lower lip with his teeth and gently nipped. She moaned softly against his lips. It sent a surge of electricity throughout his entire body, landing somewhere between his thighs, as well as in the recesses of his heart.

His tongue delved into her mouth, tasting her more. At that moment, her arms intertwined around his neck, pulling him closer to herself. Her nails raked through his hair possessively. It was true. She had never been kissed before and he could tell, from her choppy movements, her obvious lack of experience was undeniable. But her desire equaled his… that both thrilled him and frightened him at the same time.

When he was finally able to pull away from her, she looked ravishing. He couldn't believe that was possible, but she was. It was at that moment that he remembered his vow.

I will never love this woman.

His hands released her from his grip hastily. Her lips were glistening, her eyes even more so. He tried to look away, but he couldn't.

"I'm sorry…" he said, shaking his head, as he watched her lip quiver in confusion.

"Nay, Alistair, it's—" she tried to say something, but he wouldn't allow her. If they kept on talking, it would only make things more difficult. The situation had already become much more complicated than he thought it would be.

"We need to head back to the inside," he interrupted her, in a tone of voice that did not allow for any response other than agreement.

Without even waiting to see if she would follow him, he turned around and walked back to the castle. He considered himself fortunate that all this happened in the reclusive part of their estate, filled with trees and shrubbery, so they weren't openly visible to anyone. However, in places such as this one, walls had ears and windows had eyes.

"Alistair?" he heard her call out to him, but he didn't turn around.

This was all his mistake, his doing. If anyone could fix it, it would be him. In order not to fall in love with her, he had to stay away from her. How hard could that be?