Page 107 of No One's Bride
She swallowed hard. “I love it.”
He breathed a relieved sigh. “Will you marry me? Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Say you’ll have me.”
It took effort not to throw herself into his arms and sob uncontrollably. Her heart was so full it might burst. “Aye. Being yer wife would be a dream come true.”
He held her chin and kissed her in the slow, hypnotic way she loved. “We may need to get the band adjusted,” he said, pulling the ring from the box and slipping it slowly onto her finger. “Though I have a strange suspicion it will fit.”
It was a perfect fit.
Just as they were perfect for each other.
Ailsa held up her hand, noting how the stones glistened in the candlelight. “That makes three gifts ye’ve given me. I feel I need to make a gesture.”
Sebastian slid his hands under her cloak, settling his palms on her buttocks. “I can think of a way you might thank me. And I need a reason to get rid of the clutter on my desk.”
She glanced at the pile of neatly stacked books, at the hard walnut surface, an erotic scene filling her head. “Ye do? Then perhaps ye should lock the door in case the servants return. Tidying is tiring work.”
“So tiring, you’ll be forced to stay the night.”
He stood, lifting her into his strong arms as if he couldn’t bear to be parted for a second. They kissed as soon as he locked the door. They were already panting when he pushed the inkstand aside and lowered her onto his desk.
The need to forget the terrifying events this evening, and the way he tugged at his trouser buttons, said this would be a wild and desperate coupling.
“I shall worship you at length later,” he said, shoving her skirts up to her thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips.
Then he was halfway inside her, easing himself deeper.
His manhood thickened, stretching her wide.
She gripped him tightly, meeting his measured thrusts.
“We need to marry quickly,” he breathed, his hand slipping between their bodies to stroke her sex. “I want you here every night, dining with me, reading beside me, coming around my cock, sleeping in my bed.”
A groan of ecstasy escaped her. “Are ye sure that’s what ye want? Marrying me means ye’ll lose the wager. I shall own all the books on these shelves.”
“You’re supposed to be looking at your betrothed, not admiring my collection. And we both lost the wager. It means I own the rare copy ofUtopia.”
“Ye can keep the book, though ye owe Mrs Daventry eight hundred and seventy pounds.” She arched her back, rising to meet every deep plunge. “Oh! Dinnae stop! I have my own version of heaven.” And this was as close as it came.
A sinful smile touched his lips. “There’s nothing Thomas More can teach me.” He slowed as she came apart around him, her climax making her moan and shudder. “This is my idea of paradise.”
* * *
Home of the St Clairs
Three weeks later
“Aaron never attends social events and cannot abide dancing,” Christian said, apologising for his brother’s absence. “He rarely leaves the club and sneers at wedding celebrations.”
Sebastian heard him, but his gaze kept flitting to Ailsa waltzing with Devon Masters. She looked so beautiful in sapphire-blue silk. Her skin glowed. Her hair shone like a halo of fire, and he couldn’t wait to see it draped over his pillow.
“I understand. My sister insisted we have a wedding ball, but I shall snatch my wife at the first opportunity and make a quick escape.” Sebastian patted Christian’s solid upper arm. “Thank Aaron for his assistance in solving the case. And without your help, we might still be examining the rune symbols.”
Keen to steal Ailsa away from Masters, Sebastian moved to leave, but Christian gripped his arm to stall him.
“Daventry has asked for my help solving a problem at the British Museum. He believes my knowledge of rare artefacts will be invaluable.”
Christian’s ability to fight three men would prove useful.
