The Highlander's Time

that worked its way through the coverlet. They felt their way to a swath of plaid draping a long line down the left side of the bed. “I must seem awfully pathetic to you.”
    The tension grew inside in the room as he stood with his back to her. A palpable pall she didn't have the strength to think her way through or out of. He said something to her quickly, quietly. It might have been French, but she couldn't be sure. “I'm sorry, I didn't understand you.”
    “Say, aye, I agree.” He propped his hands on the mantle for a long moment before he turned around. She wondered if he was pondering the problem they were. Finally, he focused his attention on her face.
    “Why?”
    “Say the words, Jenny.”
    It wasn’t so much what he said, but how he said it. The tone conveyed urgency, but the steady blue stare he’d leveled on her whispered, ‘it’ll be okay’. “Aye, I agree?” I think . The warmth from the fire soothed her raw nerves. His steadying presence lulled her after he relaxed his stance. She hid a yawn behind her hand. “Is something going on?”
    He didn't answer until he'd strode across the room and sat on the side of the bed. “Jenny....” He seemed to search for the words. “I need you to trust me.”
    It was a tall order. Trying to phrase her response so he got the gist of it, she ended up shrugging. “I can try.” That was about as far as she was willing to go.
    He moved closer to her. His enormous hand cupped her skull in his firm grasp. “I cannae ask you for more, lass.”
    The overwhelming urge to curl against him took over. She leaned in at the same moment he dipped his head. She lingered in his kiss, loving the slow, sensual touch of his mouth on hers. He tasted like a wonderful combination of mint, wine and masculinity.
    Her fingers stroked up his arms to clasp his shoulders then ventured on to toy with his hair. Relaxing back, he followed her down. In the firelight, his brilliant blue eyes appeared to be smoldering cobalt. “This is nice.”
    He flashed a thoroughly masculine smile to show his even white teeth. Lowering his head for a second kiss, he halted his head’s decent an inch above her lips. “I'm glad you approve, my lady.”
    She met his passion from that moment on. His lips moved over hers with slow determination until she basked in a glorious glow of their making. She strained to get closer to him. A wonderment he wove around her with cutting ability and stunning ease pulled her deep into a fascinating conflagration of desire and unabashed need. Ripping her mouth from his, she panted against him. “Dear God.”
    Never, not ever, had she been this excited with a potential lover and he hadn't even gotten her naked yet. A spurt of uncertainty rocketed through her. “Iaen, I'm not very good at this.” She sounded sad to her own ears. “I mean, I'm not like Lila. I can't just hop into bed then climb out of it.” Great, now you sound like an absolute idiot .
    If there was one saving grace in this tragedy waiting to happen, it was that he didn't understand a word of her condemning confession. “I don't know what to say.”
    In her world, sex was Lila's Olympic forum. There, her boss always stood as the most outrageous and the most successful. She boasted of her exploits with the same caustic verbiage she used when negotiating a contract with her record company. Charlzie and she often joked how Lila could take a man by the balls and illicitly pummel him into modeling clay. Sex was Lila's weapon of choice.
    On the other hand, Jenny understood she dated for a long time before she hopped in the sack. She liked all the wooing and cuddling, the expectation of what was coming in the distant future rather than a thrill for this moment. Jenny lived in an arena Lila called a waste of time. In truth, all the pawing and petting, sweet words and innocent hugs was what Jenny was after. The touching made her feel like more than a blow-up doll. The kisses exchanged were viewed as silent promises to her. They were fate-filled vows for a future where sex was a bonus instead of a given.
    She lived in a place where the relationship meant more. If a guy moved her too fast, she was the one who broke it off. If he couldn't take the heat of a long-haul and sometimes long distance love affair, she dropped him cold.
    Screwing was nice enough for the brief time it lasted, but sex wasn't something she looked forward to. The brevity of it left her feeling empty and alone even when she snuggled