Page 63 of Bride of Fire
With stealthy daring, she moved her fingers through his hair.
He didn’t waken.
With a fingertip, she traced the rim of his ear.
Still he didn’t waken.
With the back of her other hand, she applied increasing pressure, watching his face carefully for any response.
Finally, his brow creased, and he made an erotic murmur deep in his throat.
It was only a small sound, but it seemed to rouse a wild beast inside her. That beast came to life with a sensuous purr that resonated through every fiber of her being. Its fiery tongue licked at her nerves with a strange and powerful craving. And she sensed at once this was the deadliest animal she’d ever summoned.
Her breath quickened. Her heart pounded like an armorer’s hammer. Her skin flushed with heat.
Then, just as she was trying to understand this maelstrom of emotions, the nursery door suddenly opened a crack.
Jenefer’s breath caught.
Peering in cautiously, her face illuminated by candlelight, was Cicilia.
Jenefer held her breath, wary of moving a muscle, and stared mutely at the nurse.
But as soon as she slipped through the door, Cicilia skidded to a halt. Spying the couple lying there with limbs entwined, her mouth went round with shock.
Thankfully, she made no outcry. The last thing Jenefer wanted was for Morgan to wake up and see the mischief she was perpetrating.
Cicilia stammered in a whisper, “Och! Oh! I didn’t know ye… Beggin’ your pa-…I…I…”
Miles, as if sensing his breakfast was nearby, woke up with a hungry whimper.
Jenefer felt the blood rush to her face. She could think of nothing to say. She was just grateful Morgan was snoring away, oblivious to her shame.
Cicilia wrung her hands and spoke under her breath, trying to explain. “I’m so sorry, but ’tis midnight. The bairn’s goin’ to need feedin’, and—”
She was interrupted by Bethac plowing into the back of her as she came through the nursery door. In an instant, the older maidservant took in the situation. She rushed forward and smoothly scooped Miles up from the bed.
“Come on, now, lad,” she quietly cooed. “Let’s tend to ye in the laird’s bedchamber.”
While Jenefer looked on, slack-jawed, Bethac hooked an arm around Cicilia’s waist to drag her out, calling softly over her shoulder. “Ye go back to sleep now. We’ve got things well in hand.”
Then she gently closed the door.
Jenefer let out a shuddering breath. There was no way she was going to go back to sleep. Not after that humiliating episode. She’d been caught by the servants, compromising their laird while he slept.
Shouldn’t they be concerned?
Would they blather the gossip all over the keep?
Or perhaps, she thought sourly, this sort of clandestine affair was commonplace for the Highland laird.
Before she could become disgruntled by that idea, Morgan drew in a long, rasping breath and shifted on the bed.
Afraid to move lest she wake him, Jenefer closed her eyes and feigned sleep.
But it took all her willpower not to cry out when he buried his face in her hair and drew her hips firmly against his. And when he made that growling murmur in his throat again, she sighed as desire blew through her soul. Desire as warm and arousing as his breath upon her brow.
An erotic shiver coursed through every part of her body, converging in a brilliant burst of lust between her thighs, at the precise spot where his male hardness pressed against her.
