Page 65 of Bride of Fire
This morn, his body was completely in agreement with the idea. He squeezed his eyes shut against a wave of intense lust.
At the moment, it was easy to imagine burrowing under the lass’s skirts and plunging himself ballocks-deep into her warm, womanly recesses.
None would blame him.
He was widowed. And a man had his needs.
Indeed, most lasses would be happy to bed with a considerate, gentle lover like Morgan.
Notthislass, of course.
She would sooner lie with a wild dog than a Highlander.
Indeed, she’d be mortified at their current situation. No doubt she’d run him through, if she had a weapon at hand. The only reason she was pressed so intimately against him this morn was that she was fast asleep.
Jenefer was wide awake. How could she not be, with Morgan’s breath ruffling her hair, his palm brazenly cupping her breast, and the rock-hard proof of his desire poking at the crevice of her arse?
She hadn’t meant to sleep here all night. She’d intended to leave and slip into bed with Feiyan in the laird’s bedchamber once Bethac and Cicilia returned with Miles.
But the maids never returned.
And to her chagrin, Morgan never left.
So here they were, in an embarrassing snarl of limbs and emotions, and Jenefer couldn’t begin to imagine how to extricate herself.
It was daybreak. Soon Bethac would come to stoke the fire. Cicilia would come to fetch fresh linens for Miles. Someone would come to bring breakfast.
If news of the laird sleeping with his captive hadn’t circulated the keep already, the rumors would fly fast and furiously the instant someone walked in.
It wasn’t the wagging tongues that bothered her. Or even the notion that her reputation might be sullied. A lass willing to masquerade as a half-naked ghost didn’t attach much importance to reputation.
What bothered her was that they hadn’t actually done anything. If gossip was to be spread around the castle, at least it should be based on real scandal and not conjecture. Nothing was quite as annoying as being charged with a crime one hadn’t committed.
And yet, would she rather hehadravished her?
Such a thing was unthinkable.
He was her enemy. A feral Highlander. A lawless giant. The usurper of her castle.
And yet…
He was also a man. An appealing, virile, tempting one. That couldn’t have been made any clearer to her as he nestled close with his staff wedged against her bottom.
And if she forgot all the details about who he was, if she focused only on the way he made her feel, her thoughts went in a completely different—and dangerous—direction.
His arm surrounded her like a cozy cloak, protecting her from the elements. His legs, tucked behind her knees, formed a comfortable chair. His chest rose and fell with every breath, pressing against her back. And each exhale sent a new shiver of warm desire down her spine that added to the last. Soon she felt lost in a sultry haze of longing.
And it wasn’t unpleasant. Not at all.
But it was useless to be hungry when no food had been offered.
Unless Morgan woke up with a complete change of heart and uncontrollable lust in his eyes, he wasn’t going to satisfy her appetite.
So she needed to shake off her lingering desire and his grip on her before someone could catch them in the throes of… She mentally sighed. The throes of nothing.
Feigning sleep, she shifted under his arm and rolled onto her back, sure her movement would wake him.
It didn’t. He was still dozing. And she’d only made things worse. His arm was now slung diagonally across her chest. His hand curved beneath her breast, and his thumb rested with brazen grace upon her nipple.
