Page 67 of Bride of Fire
But she’d never been afraid of the unknown.
Kissing him was more exciting than she’d imagined. His lips were succulent and inviting, like the most delicious sweetmeats, and she couldn’t get enough of them.
Despite his willful strength, his touch was surprisingly gentle. It made her skin tingle and warmed her blood. Where his fingers grazed her, she felt awakened and alive.
His ragged breath—upon her face, along her throat, beside her ear—made her shiver in delight. Her head swirled in a lovely fog of lust as she writhed beneath him.
His trespass beneath her kirtle to caress her breast stole her breath and her senses. But when she responded to his touch against her will, she knew an instant of panic.
She was as helpless as an overturned beetle, flat on her back. Why had she let him render her so vulnerable? Especially when he commanded her body with such precision?
In alarm, she fought back. Hooking one leg around him, she heaved upward with all her might and at last managed to roll him onto his back beneath her.
But rather than exerting her will and proving her domination, she’d only fed his lust. He was just as content to haveherconquerhim.
She thrust her tongue deep into his mouth in victory. She clasped his thighs between her knees, holding him captive. She ran her palm boldly over his trews, relishing the blade-hard proof of his craving.
Not once did he object to her subjugation.
Not once did he fight for his freedom.
Though by virtue of his superior strength and size, he might have thrown her over again, not once did he try to master her.
Instead, he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth when she squeezed the hardening in his trews, arching up against her in need. His face was a study in torment, and his fists contained a powerful fury that longed to be unleashed.
His surrender was intoxicating, almost as intoxicating as her own desire. Her heart raced at the signs of his raw yearning—his deeply creased brow, his tightly closed eyes, his flaring nostrils. Her nipples tensed, and the ache between her legs increased from a painful throbbing to an excruciating need that demanded relief.
Overcome with longing and uncertain what to do next, she lowered her mouth to his again, gorging on his fervor with unabashed greed. For one incredible moment, drunk on desire, lost in lust, Jenefer believed she could happily remain here for the rest of her life.
When the door burst open, Morgan had no time to think. He only did what came naturally to him—the chivalrous thing. At the first creak, he rolled Jenefer back beneath him, protecting her with his body and hiding her from view.
Unfortunately, Jenefer didn’t see it that way. She blustered in outrage and tried to thrust him off of her. She probably would have spat a few choice curses as well, except Bethac spoke first.
“Oh!” the maidservant exclaimed from the doorway. “Beggin’ your… M’laird, I… I didn’t know ye still had compa-… I’ll come back late-…”
“Wait!” Jenefer cried.
Morgan lowered his brows. What was the lass doing? He meant to shield her, to protect her honor. After all, Bethac couldn’t report what she couldn’t see. As far as she knew, Morgan’s consort could well be a serving lass. Why would Jenefer betray her presence?
To his consternation, Jenefer called out, “We weren’t swiving. I want that to be clear. I won’t have you bandying about that you saw the laird swiving me, because we weren’t. Not yet at least.”
Morgan tried not to laugh. She sounded mildly irritated. They may not have been swiving. But they’d been close to it. And what difference did it make anyway?
“Oh, Miss,” Bethac said with great dignity, “I would ne’er say such a thing, not me.”
“Because if you do, I’ll put frogs in your bed, I swear.”
“My lips are sealed,” Bethac promised.
Then, to his utter amazement, Jenefer confided, “And I don’t want you to think poorly of Morgan. ’Twasn’t his idea. ’Twas mine. You were right. Your laird is not the kind of man to ravish a captive against her will.”
“Aye, Miss.”
Though Jenefer didn’t meet his eyes, Morgan’s heart melted as he gazed down at the blushing lass.
She’dstood up forhim.
That was a rare and touching thing. And in that amazing moment, he realized what he felt for her was more than mere lust or admiration. It was something far more perilous. Genuine respect and affection.
