Page 30 of Kiss Me, Macrae

Allegra started across the room, unwinding the scarf from around her neck and releasing the ties of her heavy cloak as she went. After draping her outer garments over the back of an oversized chair, she took a seat on one end of the sofa and watched the big, burly redheaded Scot walk toward her with a delicate teacup and saucer balanced steadily in his large hand.

The sight of him struck her acutely. The curious tilt of his subtle smile. The heat and hope in his eyes. The strength and confidence in his movement.

He was wonderful and Allegra needed him.

She needed his smiles and his kisses and the way he appreciated her vulnerability as much as he did her ambition.

She needed him to challenge her and she needed his friendship.

Though she had every intention of forging ahead with her plan to do the work she loved, she could finally admit that she needed this man to make her life as deeply beautiful as it could be.

By the time he stopped and carefully lowered his great body to a crouch before extending the tea toward her, her heart was beating wildly in her chest. Green eyes met hers and he offered a subtle grin. “I havenae got a tea table nor even a tea tray, so you’ll have tae balance this on your lap.”

Allegra had no idea how such a mundane statement could cause a flutter of delicious longing inside her, but it did. She took the cup and saucer from him. “Thank you.”

“No cream, just a wee bit of sugar, aye?”

Allegra nodded, not at all surprised that he’d taken note of her preference at some point. “I should apologize for just dropping in on you like this.”

“Nay, ye shouldnae,” he replied gruffly.

They stared at each other for a moment, the air thick between them, before he glanced down with a lift of his brow. “Yer boots are drippin’ on my rug.” He took one boot in hand and lifted it to the surface of his thigh. “D’ye mind?”

Heat swirled through Allegra, making it impossible to reply. Her lips parted and her throat grew tight as he deftly untied and loosened the laces of her boot, then tugged it off and set it aside. He did the same for the other and then took both of her stockinged feet in his hands.

“Och, lassie.” His voice was a rough whisper. “Ye must take more care.”

The boots had kept her feet dry, but her toes had become numb from the cold. Before she could respond, he tugged off the woolen stockings and set about warming her bare feet in his very capable hands.

“You don’t have to do that,” she muttered quickly, though his touch was already melting far more than her frozen extremities.

His gaze, when it rose up to meet hers, was deep and dynamic, as though he allowed everything he was feeling to be reflected there. His willingness to give of himself so freely stunned her. She’d never experienced such open trust. It almost hurt to receive it when she knew she hadn’t been brave enough to offer the same in return.

As his thumbs pressed delicious circles into the soles of her feet, he tilted his head in question. “Why are ye here, Allegra?”

She met his earnest gaze and took a thready breath. The thickness in her throat increased and her stomach gave a wild little flip. “You were right.”

His brows notched upward, but he didn’t reply. He just massaged her feet in his large hands and waited for her to continue.

“I was drawn to you. I am drawn to you,” she corrected. “I don’t know if it was fate that guided me to your room at the inn, but I know what brought me here this morning.”

“What’s that?” His voice rippled through her, so rough and low and richly textured. It never failed to touch her, soothe her, ignite the fires deep within her.

“You,” she answered simply.

Triumph and desire flashed in his gaze.

Leaning forward, she set the quickly cooling teacup on the floor. Curling her hands around his upper arms, she urged him toward her.

He responded immediately, releasing her feet to prop his hands on the sofa, bracketing her hips, as he shifted to his knees.

Allegra, smoothed her hands up over his wide, muscled shoulders, then the thick column of his neck until she cradled his bearded jaw in her palms. Meeting his hungry gaze, she whispered, “Kiss me, Macrae.”

Chapter 16

Baird’s heart stopped.

Then started again like a horse bolting straight into a gallop.