Marcus wrapped his free arm around her and gave her a fierce hug. "I missed ye." He leaned back and looked into her eyes.
Her heart leapt with joy and sorrow in unison. Would it have been better for him to have found the wanted notice and confront her? He brushed aside locks of hair the breeze had blown across her cheek. He crooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up toward his. Her cheeks warmed and she flicked a glance at the children who seemed oblivious of them. He stroked her lips with his thumb. A dangerous grin flashed across his face.
"Wha—"
Marcus dragged her behind the thick brush around back of the storehouse. He glanced at the massive oak tree behind them.
"Marcus—"
He backed her against the tree and pinned her with his body.
"You can't be seri—" The protest was cut off as much by the sudden awareness of the hard length of him pressing into her thigh as by his kiss.
Marcus broke the embrace just as abruptly as he'd begun, ending the kiss with a loud smacking sound. Elise stared. He grinned. She shoved at his chest. He bent over her once more and she heard his quiet laugh before his mouth covered hers. He parted her lips with his tongue, not asking, but taking. He shifted and the vague awareness of his fingers closing around her wrists penetrated her consciousness. He lifted her hands above her head, pressing them against the tree as he leaned his weight against her. A tremor ripped through her and her body coiled in readiness for the hard press of him against her thigh again. But Marcus released her mouth and, dipping his head, nipped at her flesh from cheek to ear.
"I haven't forgotten how mercilessly you teased me before I left." He rocked against her. The press of him against her weakened her knees. "Feel what you do to me, sweet," he said.
Elise inhaled sharply.
"Aye," he whispered.
Marcus rocked again, then again. She arched as he kissed his way down her neck. He released her hands and tugged down her bodice.
"Marcus!" She forgot the remonstration as his weight lifted from her and he bent, his wet mouth closing over a nipple.
Desire spiked through her. His tongue circled the nipple, then released it. She closed her eyes, shivering as the wind slid across her breast, puckering the bud to a hard peak. Marcus abruptly pulled her away from the tree. She snapped open her eyes. He eased her to the ground. The scent of crushed ivy ground cover enveloped her as he came down beside her.
"They're expecting me to return with the flour," she said. "When I don't—"
"They know I came in search of you." He slipped a knee between her legs. "They won't come."
He covered a breast with his palm and slowly teased the nipple with his thumb, while kissing the other breast. His mouth captured the nipple and a rush of pleasure shot from both breasts to the juncture between her legs. He lifted his head and she forced her eyes into focus. His gaze remained fastened on hers as he ran a hand along her ribs. His palm glided past her waist, then along her thigh. He grabbed a fistful of her skirt and pulled it up. She gasped at the feel of his warm hand flattening against her skin, then caressing her inner thigh.
"Marcus," she whispered.
He said nothing, only continued caressing upward until his fingers tickled the hair between her legs. She tensed. He kissed the swell of her breast, her neck, her ear, then her mouth, lengthening the kiss as he slipped a finger between her folds. His thumb brushed the nub swollen with desire. She clutched his shoulders. His muscles tensed beneath her fingers. She ached to feel those arms around her. He stroked her deliberately while slipping another finger inside. He released her mouth and leaned his forehead against hers. His breathing grew ragged as he thrust gently with his fingers. His thumb stroked in quicker movements. Pleasure swirled in a restless coil deep insider her, spiking up in wide ribbons of intensity that took her breath away.
Marcus nuzzled her neck. "Come to me."
She started at the whispered words.
"Come to me," he repeated.
And she did.
Elise took one of the scones Jinny had baked that evening from the pan on the kitchen counter. They were still warm to the touch. She pulled the tartan covering her shoulders closer as she stuffed half the scone into her mouth and leaned against the counter. Despite a large supper and wine, she had been unable to sleep. Two glasses of wine hadn't been enough. She should have made it three. At least she would have slept, even if fitfully.