Rose's Rapture: Lords of the Night, Book Two by Jordan Summers

of champagne and placed it in her hand. “Here, drink this. Perhaps the heat is too much. We could stroll outside for a bit of air.”
    Rose arched a brow. “After what happened the last time? I think not.”
    “Rose.” He grasped her arm.
    “Release me this instant. You made your thoughts clear. I realize my manners are lacking, but I am no simpleton. Now if you’ll excuse me, Laird MacDougall. I must go find Lady Abigail.”
    “No!” His voice boomed, shaking the glasses on a nearby tray.
    Rose took one step to leave and suddenly found herself being lifted off her feet and whisked outside. “What are you doing? Unhand me,” she hissed under her breath.
    “I shall do no such thing until I’ve said what needs to be said,” he growled.
    “I mean it, Hamish. Release me this instant or I shall scream.” She tried to pull out of his unyielding grip.
    “Go ahead.” His green eyes flashed as he dared her to do so.
    The man was utterly impossible. Rose stopped struggling and allowed him to convey her out of the room. “You are causing whispers.”
    He glowered. “Let them talk.”
    “That’s easy for you to say, it’s not your reputation at risk.”
    Hamish stopped short and set her down, turning so quickly that Rose collided with his wide chest. “Do you think I’d dishonor you?”
    She opened her mouth to answer.
    “Do you?” he asked, nostrils flaring. His lips thinned, bracketed by tiny white lines as he waited for her response.
    Rose searched his face, but it only took a moment to find the truth. “No,” she said reluctantly.
    Despite his highhanded ways, Hamish was nothing like Lord William Longfellow. She shivered as his name crept through her mind like a thief in the night. The man she’d seen moments ago had looked so much like him, older perhaps, a little worn, but still the mirror image. There was no reason for William to come to Scotland. It wasn’t like he knew where she was nor would he care. Not after all these years. She relaxed a fraction as Hamish opened the French doors leading to the wide terrace.
    “What is it you wish to say?” she asked.
    Hamish stood silently for several seconds, his face flushing under her perusal. “I’d like to apologize for...for my behavior at Lady McKeon’s ball.”
    Rose blinked. Apologize? That had been the last thing she’d expected to hear from the strong Scottish laird standing before her. “There’s no need for apologies. Misunderstandings are common. We simply made a mistake. All is forgiven.”
    “A mistake?” His eyes narrowed to green slits. “I donae think the kiss was a mistake, lass.”
    “You don’t?” she asked in confusion.
    “No.” He shook his head in denial. As if to prove his point, Hamish stepped closer and pulled Rose into his arms. A second later, his lips descended upon hers. A soft brush at first, then he deepened the connection, fusing their mouths together in an explosion of heat that rocked Rose to her core.
    She felt herself melt into his strength as his tongue slipped past her teeth. Greedily, Rose sucked, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. Hamish’s hold on her tightened, but he still pulled back.
    “Be careful, lass,” he said, his breath coming in pants. “You do that again and I’ll be carrying you off to the nearest bed.”
    His words inflamed her. Did she dare provoke him? Rose dreamt of nothing but Hamish ever since their first kiss. She had thought of little else, but having his body covering hers, feeling his thick cock sliding deep within her. Those erotic fantasies had kept her on edge. No amount of pleasuring herself had assuaged the need. Could she act upon her thoughts? Would her passion once again be her downfall?
    No, her past was just that, her past. No one ever need know the truth. She could have this man for pleasure’s sake without giving her heart in return. This time she was in control. She was no wide-eyed innocent miss. That part of her had died long ago. Rose decided to take