Page 76 of No One's Bride
“Are ye struggling to rise to the challenge?” she teased.
He gripped her thighs, pulling her against his solid shaft. “Rest assured, I’m permanently erect in your presence.”
“Then ye better hurry if ye mean to have me.”
Determined not to waste a second, he freed his manhood. Fumbling amid the mound of skirts, he positioned himself at her entrance.
He pushed slowly, inching his hardness inside her, though the rattle of the carriage on the cobblestones made a gentle coupling impossible.
Knowing he was afraid to hurt her, Ailsa took command, sheathing him fully despite the slight stinging.
“God, yes!” he growled. “You feel so good, love.”
Goodfailed to convey the surge of pleasure flooding her body. Every thrust proved exquisite. The feeling of fullness was divine.
As their bodies moved together, the moist sound of their joining like the sweetest song she’d ever heard, two questions formed in her mind.
Would she always want him this badly?
Was this how it felt to be in love?
ChapterFifteen
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Gibbs.” Sebastian glared at the coachman, who insisted on accompanying them into the Old Crown tavern. “I’m quite capable of dealing with an ailing landlord and lusty serving wench.”
“Perhaps ye can wait in the yard, Mr Gibbs,” Ailsa said, trying to pacify both men. The constant toing and froing left her giddy. “The tavern is closed for customers, and the rear entrance provides the only access.”
Mr Gibbs snatched his hat off his head and scratched his temple. “Perhaps you’re not understanding me, ma’am. Cutter don’t get his nickname ’cause he likes boats. If you insist on going in alone, best keep your eyes peeled for his dagger.”
Ailsa’s blood ran cold.
Mr Daventry led them to believe it would be a civil conversation. A means of asking a few discreet questions, not a brawl with blades.
Before Sebastian suggested she wait in the carriage, Ailsa said, “’Tis agreed, then. Mr Gibbs will remain in the yard, and we’ll shout if we need him.”
Ailsa waited until a cart passed before hurrying across the muddy street. Sebastian and Mr Gibbs continued snapping and sniping until they all entered the narrow alley.
The passage stank like the Thames foreshore on a hot summer’s day. The smell of rot and filth made it difficult to breathe.
Sebastian placed his hand at the base of her spine and guided her past the row of barrels, stopping at the wooden doors displaying a crude metal sign.
Keen to enter the cobbled yard first, Mr Gibbs darted forward and opened the door. Perhaps he hoped a villain lurked in the shadows and he’d have a chance to flex his fists.
“Dinnae be angry with him,” she whispered to Sebastian. “Everyone wants to feel needed. Mr Gibbs is nae different.”
His gaze softened as he scanned her face. “Do you want to feel needed, Ailsa? Would it please you to know I find it hard to function without your touch? That I’m counting the minutes until we’re alone?”
“It pleases me to know our dependency is mutual.” But she couldn’t bear to think about how it would end. What these moments of happiness would cost them.
“The yard is clear, milord.” Mr Gibbs beckoned them inside, where a woman with skin like cracked leather dunked laundry into a wooden pail. “Mrs White will show you into the tavern. Let’s hope your fancy education stands you in good stead.”
“I’ve no doubt it will,” Sebastian said confidently. “I’ve had better beatings at Cambridge than in the White Boar’s fighting pit.”
The woman dried her gnarled fingers on her dirty apron and beckoned them to follow her inside. “Take a seat, and I’ll fetch Mr Jones from the cellar.”
They sat at a crude table in a taproom that smelled of stale ale and burnt wood. The place was dim and dingy, the ceiling and panels to the right stained with soot.
“I wonder how the fire started,” she said.
