Page 44 of Any Rogue Will Do
Connor gave her a short nod, then headed for the door. “I only ask because this brewery is important. We don’ need our viscount gallivanting off in Lon’on when he’s needed here. You’re an expensive distraction, and ye already hurt ’im before.”
Well that put her in her place, although it was a confusing version of their history. The door closed behind Connor, leaving her alone. Standing by the table, she plucked the last sausage off her plate, then finished her tea and wiped her fingers on the napkin. Glancing around her, she said, “It really is too blue.”
***
It may have been his plan to include Lottie in his business in order to show her how she might fit in here at Woodrest, but today hadn’t been the best day to bring her along. Connor was in a mood, the arrival of Macdonell had thrown the masons and carpenters into chaos, and Lottie rode beside him, suspiciously quiet for the last hour. “What’s on your mind, lass?”
“Connor doesn’t like me, does he?”
He furrowed his brow. “Connor is grumpy today. Don’ take it personally. Was he rude tae you? I’ll no’ let him make you feel unwelcome, Lottie.” If Connor and Lottie didn’t figure out how to get along, there could be problems ahead—assuming he brought her around to the idea of a shared future.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe it was nothing.”
They’d just left the Thatchers’ house—where Mrs. Thatcher seemed beyond ready to have the baby, if only the baby would cooperate—when Lottie spoke again. “Is the local midwife one you trust, or should we bring someone in for the baby’s birth? I was going over the date calculations with Mrs. Thatcher, and the babe is overdue. With such a large child, there could be complications.”
“The midwife in the village is very experienced. Mrs. Thatcher is in good hands.” Watching Lottie interact with the building crew and tenants was a new way to get to know her. It was obvious she felt deeply, cared about details—and yes, sometimes managed everyone around her. Usually those people needed managing, though, so he could hardly blame her.
He reined Ezra under a tree. When he dismounted and held his arms open to her, she slid off her horse without protest. The dip of her waist seemed custom made for his hands. Flashes of memories from last night flickered behind his eyes, as they had all day. How Lottie had looked when she’d come apart in his arms—her long throat working for breath as she cried out, causing her neck to vibrate under his mouth. The satisfied expression she’d worn when she’d made him come in return—an endearing blend of sexy smugness and fascination at the process. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. About being lovers.”
“From your tone, I feel I won’t like where this is going.”
This had been running through his brain all day, but it was still a tangle to speak the words in order. “I want you. Don’ doubt that. Ever. Not ever, you hear me, lass? I can’t believe I’m even saying this. But as long as our agreement stands and this engagement ends in three weeks, we won’ be needin’ those French letters.” Tightening his grip on her waist, he drew her closer. “I want so badly tae be the dishonorable bastard you used tae know. If I were, I’d tup you on the grass right now and not leave your thighs for days.”
She remained quiet, but Lottie was rarely still. Her fingers worked the linen of his cravat, adjusting the folds of the knot while he spoke.
“Maybe it’s splitting hairs, tae assuage my conscience. But here’s what I offer instead. We explore other ways tae bring each other pleasure. My body is yours tae enjoy. But I won’ do anything that risks a babe.” If she fell pregnant, they’d have to marry, and the last thing he wanted was to force her hand. Even though the hands in question felt better than anything he’d ever experienced—and there he went, back down the hot slide toward arousal.
Her sigh puffed against his chest. “This is your final answer? Do you think you have the self-control to not need a French letter?”
A choked, self-deprecating laugh worked past his throat. “I’ve no bloody idea, but I’ll try my damnedest.”
A devilish glint in her eye alerted him to a change in her mood. “How close can we get before you lose control, do you think?” She leaned against the tree, pulling the lapels of his coat so he followed.
“That’s a dangerous question, lass.” Pressing his body to hers, he loved how she instinctively shifted, welcoming him into the cradle of her hips. There was no disguising his body hardening against her. With an impish smile, Lottie wrapped her foot behind his knee and pulled him that final inch until there wasn’t any space left between them. He caught her leg at his hip, then dipped a hand beneath her skirt to skim up her calf until he found skin above her garter. Exactly how close to this line in the sand could they play before he had to pull back? Lottie was a physical woman with a deep well of untapped passion; he’d be a fool to ignore their shared desire—especially when he suspected it might be the key to her considering a future together.
She raised a brow in challenge, even as the pink blush of arousal crept across her chest. “Touch me like you did last night but without clothes in the way. If I can’t have you inside me, let me feel you.” The words ratcheted his desire to a new level. He wanted to be in her in the worst way. Perceptive, Lottie tilted her head. “You like it when I tell you what I want.”
“Aye,” he ground out. “I want you tae tell me what you need.” Her thigh was smooth under the rough pads of his fingers, and it felt forbidden, like fondling a priceless marble sculpture. Except marble wasn’t molten and wet like she was behind the curls he parted. Lottie’s eyes fluttered closed as she leaned her head back against the tree, offering her neck to him. Settling his mouth on her rabbiting pulse, he inhaled the lemony scent of her and smiled at her moan when his fingers entered her heat.
Her submission lasted only a moment before she sought his mouth and he felt the buttons on his breeches give way to her hands. “I need more of you. Please, Ethan. I don’t want to go over that edge without you.” Wrapping her hand around his length, she rose on her toes to press her cunny against his cock.
They froze, skin to skin, petal soft to hard. His breathing sawed out of him as Ethan held her wide-eyed gaze and hitched her higher against the tree, dragging the length of his erection against her heat. Out of instinct, her hips tilted to try to bring him inside. He held her in place, then slipped against her again. It might kill him, but he wouldn’t enter her.
“You’re so wet. God, you’re perfect, love.” Ethan savored her cry as he used his slick length to rub the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit, traveling her outer channel over and over. With one hand under her thigh and the other behind her neck, he tried to protect her from the rough bark of the tree, pinning her with the pressure of his hips. Their foreheads touched, and he locked gazes with her as they panted together. So close, her wetness pillowing his cock without letting him inside, it took everything in him to not notch the head of his erection into her.
As if she read his mind, she whimpered, “Just one stroke inside. Just one, please.” The desperate plea ofpleasewas on her lips when her orgasm overtook everything else. With one more stroke—alas, outside her body—he followed with his own climax.
Whether through self-control or lucky timing, he spilled on the ground between them. Ethan had to wonder if he’d have caved to temptation and slipped inside her if she’d lasted another thirty seconds.
Placing gentle kisses on her jaw, Ethan worked his way toward her mouth, stealing a few quiet moments before the real world intruded on them. While seconds ago she’d been begging, it was on the tip of his tongue to ask for more from her now. Lottie was willing to share her body with him, but even as he shook from his release, Ethan suspected what he really wanted was her heart.
Chapter Seventeen
The mount Lottie had chosen for the day’s ride pranced with a skittery side step to avoid a tuft of grass waving in the breeze. There was an ease to how she collected the gelding beneath her, murmuring soothing noises while she brought the horse under control. The country was her natural habitat. She was comfortable here, and he didn’t want to think about her leaving soon.
They’d spent the afternoon visiting the construction site and helping Mr. Macdonell settle in to his cottage. After a day on horseback, Lottie was windblown, mussed, and distracting. He’d pulled her behind two stone walls and a tree so far today to steal kisses, and each time she’d gone willingly. He’d tried his damnedest to stop at kisses. The encounter by the tree the day before had been thrilling but dangerously close to the point of no return. Now, on their way back to Woodrest, a feeling of contentment washed over him.
“Where are your land borders?”
