Her eyes flashed. "It's extremely impolite to spy on people. Or didn't your mother teach you manners?"
"Aye, love." He grinned even wider. "But you made such a pretty picture standing there, I couldna' help myself. 'Tis verra' unfortunate you spied me so soon."
Her eyes narrowed in the instant before she whirled and headed for the door. Marcus jumped up and, in four long strides, stepped in front of her.
"Now, lass," he drawled in an even thicker brogue, "you wake a man in the middle of the night, then run away so quickly? 'Tis no' verra' bonnie of you, and you are a verra' bonnie lass."
Elise gave him a dry look. "I warn you, Marcus MacGregor, step aside."
He grinned. She was in a fit all right and he felt the desire to see her at full sail.
"Come, love," he said, "what will ye do?"
She didn't answer and his curiosity piqued at the realization that the wheels in her head were turning at a furious rate.
"Do you plan to stand there all night?" she finally said.
He raised a brow and her expression darkened. Marcus gave a hearty laugh. "Do you expect me to capitulate to so easily?" He laughed even harder. "Lass," he shook his head, "you are—" Marcus halted when she started forward.
He reached to grab her shoulders, thinking she meant to escape after all, then realized her intention even as her foot snaked around his boot and yanked. He fell to his backside with a heavy thud. Stunned, he blinked up at her. He suddenly realized how Declan must have felt. Perhaps she did need a lesson. Her gaze darted to the door.
"Should have thought of that before you laid me on my arse," he said. "You have no chance of getting past me without my bringing you to the carpet with me." Marcus looked down the length of her. "A prospect which has its appeal."
She leapt back, but he caught the edge of her blanket and yanked it free.
He took in the bare arms, the hint of rosy nipples beneath the thin night rail, and the shadow cast by the curls between her thighs. Elise glanced down at her scantily clad body. She flushed and an answering flash of heat coursed through him.
"This is unkind of you," she said.
"Unkind?" Marcus cocked a brow. "You dare send me to my backside then lecture me on the etiquette of kindness?"
"A gentleman does not strip a lady of her clothes."
Marcus stood and tossed the blanket well out of her reach. "I have not stripped a lady of her clothes—yet."
Her brow knit and he read genuine indecision in her expression. She took a step back.
Lesson learned, he thought, and started for the blanket, but the sight of a slow smile on her lips halted him.
"Why, Marcus, you fraud. Trying to teach me a lesson."
His heart rate kicked up. Had she no idea what her soft tone did to him? "Love," he scooped her to him, "'tis not the lesson I would teach ye, given the chance."
To his surprise, she didn't pull away but wrapped her arms around his neck. "What lesson would that be, milord?"
He slid a hand up her back and wrapped his fingers in her soft, brown hair. He brought his mouth slowly down on hers. She sighed. He deepened the kiss. She pressed closer. He cupped her buttocks and backed her against the door. He tugged at the strap of her nightgown, pulling it down over her arm. Elise moved her fingers in light movements along his arm.
Marcus groaned. "You keep me on the precipice between heaven and hell."
He bent and took a taut nipple in his mouth, drawing on the pink bud through the fabric of her nightgown. She gripped his shoulders and arched toward him. Marcus ran a flattened palm up her thigh and across the roundness of her buttocks. He continued down to the underside of her knee, then lifted her leg over his hip. The nightgown rucked up and he rubbed the hard length of him between her legs. She gasped. He trailed moist kisses from neck to ear. She softened against the motion and contours of his body. He became aware of her breasts pressed to his chest, the nipples brushing in tantalizing strokes as he rocked gently against her.
"Elise—" Marcus froze at hearing footsteps in the hallway.
She opened her eyes, confusion mingled with the clouded look of desire. He yanked her away from the door and stepped in front of her as it swung open and a warrior entered.
"Forgive the interruption, laird." The man kept his gaze on Marcus's face. "A rider from Drummond territory is demanding to see you. Says it's important."
Fear displaced passion. Drummond. At this hour? Had the old chief finally died?
Marcus gave the man a curt nod. "See him to the hall."
The door closed and Marcus faced Elise. Her cheeks were flooded with color. She had pulled the nightgown straps back over her shoulders and her arms were crossed over her breasts. He reached for her, but she stiffened.
"You have a guest waiting," she said.
He clasped her arm and directed her the few steps to where the discarded plaide lay on the carpet. Marcus released her and bent to pick it up. He settled the blanket around her shoulders, drawing her close once again.