Page 77 of Any Rogue Will Do
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In the carriage, Lottie slipped into her place at his side. She’d done it—told him she loved him—and now she’d be married in a few short hours.
The coach dipped and swayed, and they fell into each other, riding the movement, hanging on to one another. Those dark curls she loved so much, damp from the rain, tangled around her fingers, tying them together. The taste of him was a welcome home. Heat rose within her, as it did each time they kissed, but this time she let it burn unchecked.
Need—that constant companion when he touched her—clawed, demanding she get closer, press harder, love deeper. When Ethan pulled her into his lap, she helped bunch the wet fabric of her skirts high up her hips so she could straddle him. A happy sigh escaped her, turning into a moan when the juncture of her legs—with that marvelous epicenter of sensation—rode the ridge in his breeches. The building tension brought heat, with a tingling that began at her toes and traveled up the back of her legs, to wrap around her inner thighs. With frantic, fumbling fingers, Lottie opened the placket of his breeches, reacquainting herself with his length.
Breaking the kiss, Ethan leaned his head against the velvet padded wall, groaning. “We don’ have a French letter.”
A bead of moisture pooled at the head of his cock before she spread it around the crown with a thumb. “Do we need one? Think of this as our wedding night, a few hours early. Didn’t you say the Scottish were fine with playing fast and loose with the formalities? We can make our public declarations tonight with the minister but make private promises here. Just you and me making vows.”
Ethan nuzzled her ear, placing kisses along her jaw. Before he reached her mouth, he pulled back. “Another excellent plan. I love you, Charlotte Wentworth. You have my heart an’ my trust. I give you my hand, my name, my love, and my protection. All I have is yours. How do you English say it in the Book of Common Prayer? With all my worldly goods, I thee endow.”
“I promise to love you—even when it’s scary to do so. I vow to come to you with my fears.” She wanted to memorize every hard angle and rugged plane. As she stared into his blue eyes, with their gold starbursts and burning emotions, the vows came easily. “I am bringing you all the parts of me that don’t work well with others and am trusting we can figure it out. I vow to be your friend and partner. I can’t in good faith promise before God to obey you. I think we both know that would be a lie.”
Ethan laughed, wrapping her closer against his chest. It felt wonderful to laugh in such a serious moment.
Months ago, in that inn off the beaten path in Warwickshire, she’d cursed how his scent affected her. Now he smelled like love, safety, and a warm future full of moments like this. Although he could use a bath.
With a grin she teased, “It’s probably best that we aren’t doing this in the Church of England. I don’t think we could keep a straight face for that part of the vows. But the rest? The rest is there. I will honor you. Keep only to you, forsaking all others. In sickness and in health. Are we married now, by Scottish standards?”
“Close enough,” he whispered, already bringing her close for a kiss.
Positioning his cock at her entrance, she moaned at the sensation of having him inside her again. With the carriage movement dictating their rhythm, they clung to one another.
Ethan helped tug her dress and shift down to free her breasts into his eager hands. Muttering expletives that sounded like praise, he lifted one breast to his mouth and drew heavily on the tip. Closing her eyes, she threw her head back and surrendered to the sensation.
“I’ve missed you, Ethan.”
He moaned encouragements against her skin, then switched his attention to the other breast while his hold on her hip tightened to guide her along his shaft, building the friction they both needed. “Keep talking, lass.”
“What’s the rest of it? With my body, I thee worship.”
“I think that’s my line. With my body, I thee worship. An’ all the rest that I can’t remember right now, because holy hell, Lottie, you feel amazing.”
As he met her stroke for stroke, they stole kisses, gasping for air that tasted of rain and pleasure. “Tell me again.” His intense gaze fed her desire.
She knew exactly what he asked for. “I love you.” The carriage rocked beneath them, their bodies chasing pleasure as fast as the wheels could take them.
“I want you tae come apart in my arms.”
Tremors began in her thighs, then her belly quaked. She lost the rhythm, so he carried her through as the tension within finally released and stars ran through her veins. Below her, his hips bucked, surging into her body, as he followed her over the edge.
Clutching her in the aftermath, he stroked her back, then down her arms and back up to begin again at the base of her neck. Touches to calm and cherish, not entice.
With a happy sigh, she said, “I love you. I know I said it a few minutes ago in the middle of all that, but my brain was spiraling out the top of my head at the time, so I’m not entirely sure I got my point across.”
His arms tightened around her. Ethan buried his face in her hair. “I’ll never tire of hearin’ it. I adore every gorgeous, bossy inch of you.” He squeezed one breast. “Especially these bits.”
A growl rumbled through the coach. They looked down at Ethan’s stomach. He shrugged a bit sheepishly.
“I can fix that.” After setting her dress to rights, Lottie reached for the hamper on the opposite seat.
“You did this?” Ethan unpacked the basket.
“Of course not. I was busy having an emotional breakdown. Darling and Agatha are the heroes here. They packed the basket, sent for the carriage, and gave us their blessing. They’re going to rest for a bit, then follow behind us.” Lottie popped the cork off a flagon of wine and pulled out two metal cups. “I don’t know what I’d do without the two of them.”
Ethan swallowed a mouthful of food. “What does Lady Agatha think of the plan tae marry in Scotland? Won’ she want the grand gown and St. George’s?”
