Page 86 of The MacGregor's Lady
Leaving.
She turned in his embrace and propped herself against the railing, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her forehead on his chest. “We haven’t spoken much since leaving London.”
The hour being late, he’d discarded his cravat. Hannah’s tongue grazed his throat.
“We haven’t had any privacy.”
“I like your family, Asher. They are very dear, and they are devoted to you and to one another.”
Unlikeherblighted family, all of whom needed Hannah to protect them, or so his informants in Boston implied. He dipped his head to gather her lavender scent. “My family likes you, too. Will you be able to sleep? We’ll reach Waverly Station quite early.”
She sighed, a weary exhalation that suggested his question was inane, which it was—though bloody polite, too. “I’ll not sleep. You’ll not sleep either. The baby sleeps, Fiona sleeps, and that infernal cat sleeps. Your brothers are no doubt playing cards and drinking until they can’t keep their eyes open, while their wives are ‘resting.’”
“You should rest too.” And he should go play cards, because if he stood out here with her much longer, he wouldn’t answer for the consequences. “The baby is learning the finer points of poker as we speak.”
This made her smile, her teeth showing white against the darkness. “Is he taking a wee nip every now and then?”
“No, but I am. Kiss me, Hannah.”
She did better than that. She nigh climbed him to fuse her mouth to his, mashing her body against him until his arousal was a throbbing presence between them. It took strength, determination, and cooperation, but within minutes, Asher had her backed against the parlor car, wedged between the wall and the railing, her leg around his hip, and his trousers unfastened.
“We shouldn’t, Hannah. There could be a child.” Bad things happened when people destined to part procreated. He was the living proof.
She curled her fingers around his shaft. “Stop being reasonable. Whether we suffer one lapse or two makes little difference.”
They were up to three lapses, with the fourth impending, when the dratted, blessed woman scooted a little, so that what ought to have been a feat of sexual gymnastics became entirely possible. Asher widened his stance, half-hiked her to a perch on the railing, and probed at her heat, desire clawing its way past reason. “Don’t let me drop you.”
“Don’t let me fall.”
They came together in a fit of insanity, as if all the power of the locomotive itself fueled their coupling. He tried to hold back, tried to exercise a little finesse—manners, be damned—but Hannah clutched at him and leveraged herself against the wall to buck into his thrusts.
“Harder, please, Asher. You have to…”
He covered her mouth with his, lest somebody hear her demands. She groaned into the kiss while he got a hand firmly under her backside.
“Better. Hold me tight, Asher.”
For an instant he let her balance on sheer strength while he found her hand and used her own fingers to apply pressure to a nipple. The sound she made, low, earthy, and voluptuous, went right to his cock.
He’d seen a meteor once, in the cold, starry depths of the Canadian wilderness. It had streaked into the night sky, growing brighter and brighter as it hurtled across the firmament.
Hannah’s pleasure was like that. Glorious, incandescent, a perfect complement to the train rocketing them north at the speed of a horse galloping for its life. He lasted only a half-dozen ferocious thrusts longer than she did, pounding Hannah into the wall before he withdrew and spilled onto their bare bellies.
She recovered first, kissing his jaw. “Put me down. I can feel you shaking.”
He didn’t want to let her go. He settled for allowing her leg to slide off his hip, while he stood, arm braced above her, panting. That he had her physically cornered was some consolation.
Her fingers winnowed through his hair, trying to put right what she and the train had utterly disordered. “I think I’ll sleep now.”
“And I’ll play cards. Stare at them, in any case.”
They both smiled. As long as conversation wasn’t expected of them, they were on safe ground.
“You should rest, Asher. I’m going to expect your devoted escort once we get to Edinburgh.”
“You’ll have it. I’ll expect you to be the scintillating American heiress who had old Moreland mustering his troops.”
The exchange petered out, and abruptly, Asher was aware of the night wind on his damp, exposed parts. He kissed her again, slowly, a sure way to bring heat back into his system. The words “I love you” began to drum at his brain, but where would that leave them?
