Page 94 of The Scot Beds His Wife
“Ye’re welcome, lass.” He beamed at her. “Not so many newly wedded husbands would be so thoughtful. Had I had my way, ye’d have woken up with me inside of ye.”
She blinked at him for a stunned moment, and then made the obvious decision to ignore him, brandishing the scrap of paper in her hand. Though he didn’t miss the pink blush that crept above the collar of that ridiculous coat. “It says here you were going to Erradale without me.”
“And I still am.” He checked the saddle once again, more for effect this time than anything else. “Now give yer husband a farewell kiss to hold me over until I return for supper.” He ducked around Demetrius just in time to catch a balled-up letter to the chest.
Och, but she had excellent aim on all accounts.
“If you think you’re leaving me behind, you can think again. Erradale is still mine, too. Now saddle me a horse and let’s be off.” She limped over to the stalls, inspecting the few horses that were left, her cane making an audiblethunkon the wide planks.
“It’s a mighty cold day out there, bonny. It’s like to start storming again any moment, and ye canna ride.”
She whirled on him, almost upsetting herself, using the cane to catch her in time. “Don’t think that just because we’re married, you get to tell me what I can andcannado. Didn’t you notice that your brother left the word ‘obey’ out of the wedding vows?”
Lord, but he loved it when her azure eyes flashed with temper.
“Och.” He chuckled, scratching at his morning shadow-beard. “More than a slight oversight on his part. Tell ye what, if ye prove to me that ye can ride, then ye can go.”
“Fine.” She shot him a triumphant smirk. “I think that bay mare would do nicely.”
“I find it charming, lass…” He let his thought trail away as he sidled closer to her, a wicked intent heating his blood and already pulsing in his loins.
“Find what charming?” She shied away, but not fast enough.
“That ye thought I meant for ye to ride a horse.” He snaked an arm around her, pulling her full against him, letting her feel the press of his hard erection, even through her skirts.
“Let me go, you big, stupid ox!” she huffed, though a playful sparkle in her eyes belied her scowl. “Riding you doesn’t just prove I’m capable, it provesyou’relazy.”
“All right, ye sharp-tongued banshee, ye talked me into it. I’ll mount ye, instead.” He cut off her protest with his lips, and reveled in masculine triumph when her outrage melted into something else, entirely.
Not surrender, not his bonny, but something like it.
Suddenly he couldn’t wait another minute to be back inside of her. The memory of her silken flesh clampedaround him seared along his veins until he was certain he was made of both hard steel and molten desire.
His tongue thrust past her lips, tasting, circling,claimingas he tossed her cane aside, ripped her coat off, spread it over a mound of straw, and pulled her down, trapping her beneath him. He kept her busy with his mouth as he split her legs with his knees and settled in between them, pressing his arousal against the beckoning heat he could feel even through the layers of their clothing.
Gavin tried to breathe, willed his galloping heart to slow. So much of his blood now raced to his cock, he was afraid there was none left for the rest of his bits. Christ, but a hundred thousand trained and perfumed courtesans couldn’t hope to elicit such instantaneous, ferocious desire as his wounded, unkempt wife.
Later, when he was able to form a coherent thought, he’d let that fact trouble him.
She pulled back and their eyes locked. The force of her defiant, Baltic gaze hit him with the strength of last night’s sea gale.
“Icanride,” she declared. “I’ll ride you witless, Gavin St. James.”
Just when he’d thought he couldn’t get any harder—she had to go and prove him wrong.
“By all fucking means,” he growled. Seizing both her mouth and her lean hips, he controlled their roll, levering her above him even as he sucked her tongue deep into his mouth.
Bunching her skirts in his fists, he burrowed his hands beneath them, sliding his fingers over the silken flesh of her thighs until he found the soft hair between. Cleaving her folds apart, he found the slippery cove of her body already wet and ready for him.
They both sucked in a harsh breath. “I’m delighted tosee that ye never found undergarments, bonny,” he purred against her lips.
“Hold your wished.” She sealed her mouth over his threatening smile at her horrid mispronunciation of his native tongue, all the while fumbling with his trousers.
His breath deserted him completely as her hand closed around his pulsing shaft, freeing it to fit against her.
Holy Mother of God.He cursed—or prayed—as she lifted slightly, positioned him, and lowered her small, sweet sex down around the head of his cock.
She didn’t make it very far, and had to sit tall, writhing and rolling her hips a bit to gain any ground. Gavin flushed with each wriggle and flex she made, every inch of his flesh prickling with ever-intensifying lust.
