Evie sat up, still on his lap, Jamie’s hands supporting her. She ran one finger under the low collar of his shirt and unbuttoned the top button.
“Why don’t you wear waistcoats and cravats like other gentlemen?” she asked, her voice whisper-soft.
“Because I’m a mad Scotsman.” Jamie sucked in a breath as she touched the hollow of his throat. “I need to be ready to tramp across the moors and fight off our enemies.”
“In London?”
“Ye never know where a savage Highlander might appear.”
Evie’s laughter shook her delightfully. “You want to be eccentric. It keeps people from finding out too much about you.”
Jamie shrugged. “Ye might be right. Or else it’s too much of a bother to put on all those clothes, tying myself up like a package.”
Evie undid another button. Jamie wore an undershirt beneath, but Evie’s questing fingers unbuttoned that too. She spread the lapels of both garments and rested her hand flat on his chest.
“Your heart is beating so rapidly,” she said with a touch of wonder.
“How can it help it?” Jamie’s voice was choked. “A beautiful woman is undressing me.”
Her skirts warmed his legs, her firm backside on his knees making it hard to breathe.
Evie ran her hands down his torso, the fabric parting for her. She traced each muscle of his abdomen, her fascination returning, fingers tickling.
Evie grew bolder as she skimmed her hands over his chest, segueing from hesitant touch to stronger questing. She let the dark red hair on his chest curl over her fingertips, then brushed her hand more firmly through them, her nails scratching the slightest bit.
That eroticism, coupled with her innocence, had Jamie’s hips lifting, his cock very hard. He’d vowed he wouldn’t ravish her, but his control was near to snapping.
A river of fire washed him when she slid fingertips beneath the waistband of his kilt.
“Lass,” Jamie growled. “I don’t know if I have that much control.”
Evie regarded him cheekily. “I must ask if it’s true what they say about Scotsmen and kilts.”
“Depends.” Jamie tried to shrug. “On a warm summer’s day, yes. A cool winter, no. I like to keep my balls attached.”
Evie’s laughter returned. “We are being very naughty.”
“I don’t mind.” Jamie grasped her wrist. “But careful, love. I don’t know how long I can contain myself.”
Evie leaned to him. “Is the rumor true, Mackenzie? On this day?”
“No.” Jamie had to admit this, regretfully. “If I’m at the racetrack, and there’s a wind …”
Evie’s smile lit more fires inside him. “That would indeed be unfortunate.”
She withdrew her hand and kissed him again. Jamie wasn’t certain whether to be disappointed or glad as he gathered her to him. Kissing was safer, though not when she nibbled on his lip. Jamie caught her tongue, suckling it and drawing a gasp from her.
What was left of his composure evaporated when she broke the kiss and tugged at his waistband. “I want to see.”
“Ah, love, you’re killing me.”
Evie ran her hand along the smooth front of the kilt. “How does it fasten? It’s not like a skirt, though some people mock it as such.”
“In the old days, ye rolled yourself up in it.” Jamie had to gently disengage her and push her to her feet. “In modern times, it’s buckles and things.”
He rose and showed her the buckles that held the kilt closed on either side. On the right side, near the hem, was a pin that bore the Mackenzie crest.
“It fastens there too?” Evie asked with interest.
“No.” Jamie peeled back the top layer, showing her it was the only one that held the pin. “It weights it a bit, so it doesn’t fly up.”
It was a strange thing, modeling the garment he’d run around in since he was a lad to the lady he wished to win. He wanted her ripping it from him, not standing back and admiring the plaid.
“The fabric is lovely.” Evie brushed fingertips along his right thigh.
He swallowed. “Woven by ladies in remote cottages on our clan lands. They’re very proud of their work.”
“They should be. It’s beautiful.”
“I’ll have them make you one, if you like. Ladies wear kilts too.”
Evie continued to rub the green and blue plaid, her fingers warming his hip. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I’ll do it anyway. They’ll be chuffed.”
“Such intricate pleats.” Evie had moved behind him, her touch finding the curve of his backside.
“Their specialty. Back in Old Malcolm’s day, ye pleated your kilt by hand—but those were great kilts, worn over the whole body. I’m happy to have most of the work done for me—faster to dress in the morning.”
Jamie heard himself babbling nonsense, but his brain had gone to sleep with Evie rubbing his backside through the wool.
His body, on the other hand, was very much awake and alive. More alive than it had been in a long time. Forget soaring over the Persian desert—he’d rather be here in this train with Evie lightly touching him and making him wild.
Evie began working the buckles that held the kilt in place. Before Jamie could stop her, she had one open and then the next, and the next. The unbelted kilt quickly sagged down his thighs.
She lightly put her hand on Jamie’s chest and pushed him backward. He obediently sat down in the seat, his heart racing.
Once again, she rested her knees on either side of him, not quite embracing him but wonderfully intimate. Her hand slid beneath the loosened kilt and then inside his drawers, coming to rest on the very hard cock beneath.
Evie stilled, her eyes widening. Her hand twitched once, and Jamie thought she would jerk away, stand up, and flee the compartment. Maybe move to America and never speak to him again.
She’d never touched a man, that was certain. Jamie felt a flash of hot triumph. He was her first. Atherton hadn’t earned this beautiful thing Evie was doing to him now.
Evie’s fingers relaxed, and she gave his cock a tentative swipe with her thumb. Jamie couldn’t stop his groan, his barely coherent thoughts scattering.
He groaned again as she roved her hand over him, her eyes on his. Jamie tried to muffle the sound—he did not want a concerned Mackenzie forcing open the door to rescue him.
He wanted only to be rescued by this lass, time and again.
Evie’s palm enclosed his tip, her cheeks flushed with both shyness and excitement. She had no idea what to do with him, knew no courtesans’ tricks of prolonging the pleasure before expertly bringing him off.
Jamie could teach her, though …
The thought bunched exhilaration deep inside him, threatening to burst out all over her hands. She’d definitely flee him if he did that.
Jamie took deep breaths, using techniques he’d learned to calm his body and still his mind. Evie was new to this, and had been working her way through many emotions. He didn’t want to frighten her.
Then again, she might simply be enjoying herself with the fool who’d thrown himself at her feet.
Ah, well. Let her enjoy.
Jamie slid his hand between them and rested it over hers, gently guiding her closed fingers on his shaft.