The man was obviously beyond distressed, though she had no idea why. He seemed to be upset that she wasn’t wearing her braies, but she wasn’t at all certain why. He’d slid his hand inside her braies and touched her just that afternoon, so it could not be that he was upset that she wasn’t wearing them because he’d touched her so intimately.
Aware of a hardness poking uncomfortably into her bottom, Saidh hesitated, but really this was ridiculous and just how long did he expect them to sit like that? “ ’Tis all right, I’m just going to . . .” She started to shift in an effort to find a more comfortable position and Greer groaned and then caught her hips in his hand and held her still.
“I swear, Saidh, if ye do that again I’ll no’ be able to stop meself,” he warned through gritted teeth.
“All right,” Saidh said soothingly, “ ’Tis all right.”
“ ’Tis no’ all right,” he assured her grimly, lowering his head again. “I was counting on those braies and yer no’ wearing them.”
“I see,” Saidh said weakly, but really didn’t see at all. Did he prefer touching her through the braies? Or having to snake his hand down them? She had no idea, but she was growing weary of just sitting there, and really the game was no fun if he wasn’t going to play it. All that lovely desire he’d stirred in her was now fading away. Sighing, she asked, “Shall I put me braies on now? Would that make ye feel better?”
“Nay,” Greer growled. “What would make me feel better would be if ye’d sit still and let me think.”
“What are ye thinking about?” she asked curiously.
“Fish,” he said succinctly.
Saidh raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because I detest fish.”
“Really?” Saidh smiled. “So do I. Lady MacDonnell does too.”
Greer merely cursed under his breath.
Saidh fell silent for another minute, but then cleared her throat and asked, “Why are ye thinking o’ fish?”
“Saidh!” he snapped, then sighed and began to rub his temples and explained more gently, “Sweetling, I was counting on yer braies being on so that I could pleasure ye without taking yer innocence. But yer no’ wearing yer braies, and I am struggling to keep from taking me pleasure, yer innocence be damned, so I am trying to control me passion by thinking o’ dead smelly fish because they are the least passionate thing I can think o’ and the one thing most likely to help me control meself.”
“Oh,” Saidh said quietly, but then asked, “Would it be so terrible if ye took yer pleasure? Ye’ve given me pleasure twice now and while I think ye enjoyed yerself the first time, I’m no’ sure ye did in the stables. Surely ye deserve pleasure too.”
“Dear God, ye swear like a warrior, fight like one too, but ha’e no survival instinct to speak o’, lass,” Greer said with despair, then caught her at the waist and lifted her off his lap and into the air even as he stood up. When Saidh’s gown promptly slid over her hips and fell to pool on the floorboards beneath her, Greer looked as if he might weep. He also froze again and simply held her there in the air before him as his eyes roved hungrily over her bare body.
“Greer?” Saidh said softly.
He tore his gaze from his inspection of her body and raised his gaze to her face. “Aye?”
“ ’Tis in me nature,” she said solemnly and when he stared blankly, explained, “That is what the scorpion said to the dying frog, ’Tis in me nature.” She smiled crookedly. “I win.”
Greer released a breathless laugh and shook his head. “Nay, lass. I’m pretty sure I win.”
“Nay. That is the end o’ the story. I win,” she insisted as he carried her across the room.
“It may be the end o’ me aunt’s story, but ’tis just the beginning o’ ours,” he assured her as he set her to sit on the end of the bed.
“But—”
“How long is the journey to Buchanan from here?” Greer interrupted, straightening.
Saidh frowned. “I do no’ ken. Half a day, mayhap less.”
Nodding, Greer turned and headed for the door, ordering, “Do no’ move. I’ll return directly.”
Saidh stared after him with bewilderment as he slid from the room, then shook her head and dropped back on the bed with a little sigh. The man had obviously lost his mind. That was the only explanation that made sense to her. First he was touching and caressing her, then he was upset she wasn’t wearing braies, then he started spouting things that made absolutely no sense and marched out ordering her not to move.
What the hell did he mean that she hadn’t won? She’d finished the tale before he’d made her scream in pleasure. In fact, she was beginning to think he would never cause that now. And what was that nonsense about their story just beginning? What story was that?
More irksome to her, though, was his claim that she had no survival instinct to speak of. Saidh knew he meant because she’d as good as offered herself to him, but he was wrong. She was not an idiot. She knew ladies were supposed to save themselves for their husbands and that by giving herself to him she would be making herself unmarriageable. But it seemed to her that she wasn’t likely to marry anyway. Her betrothed had died, and no laird was likely to want a woman as rough as her to wife. She’d spent too many years with her brothers, learned too many curse words and how to fight. She wore those precious braies under her skirts, rode astride like a man, and could fight like one too. She’d been given a taste of freedom growing up with her brothers as playmates, and doubted she could give up that freedom just to be some man’s chattel.
So why not find her pleasure with Greer while she was young enough to enjoy it? Her brothers wouldn’t think less of her for it, she was sure, and before she’d left for Sinclair for Joan’s birthing, Aulay had told her that she would always have a home with him at Buchanan.