Page 11 of His Savage Sweet

We’ve never been in a bedroom. I had a strict policy against bringing women to my bedroom in the castle.

Still, Findlay’s idea had merit...

“And try to keep from fooking her again until ye know if ye’re a good team.”

Though I glared, my brother shrugged. Findlay was never ruffled—one of his particularly annoying traits—and today was no different. Unfortunately, he had a tendency to be right about shite like this.

“Wulf, there’s something about this woman which has ye rattled. She’s obviously different from any other lass ye might’ve taken a fancy to. Ye look like Rickard did when he met Clarissa, and ye saw how quickly that turned to love. And marriage.”

Fooking perfect Rickard. After his recent wedding, he and his new wife were over-the-moon in love.

Shrugging, Findlay stepped back, his arms folded once more. “And once ye decide ye’re a good match, just go ahead and marry her, whoever she is.”

What? “Marry her?”

“Aye. Father says we all have to marry, no matter how much it angers ye. Ye have a head start, if there’s a woman ye haven’t been able to stop thinking about. Sooo… Woo her. Get to know her. And then, for fook’s sake, marry the woman so we can stop worrying about yer sorry arse.”

The slightly sardonic twist of Findlay’s lips told me he was only half-joking. Perhaps the arsehole was worried for me.

As he sauntered away, and I stared open-mouthed, his words ran through my head. Marry the woman.

Anna, in my bed. Anna, doing so much more than just lying there and letting me fook her while she played with herself. Anna, her belly growing rounder with my child. Anna, my wife.

Could I do it? Could I marry her? It would make Father happy. Strange how his ultimatum seemed to irritate me less now than it did last month when he’d made it.

Marry Anna…

I’d have to get to know her a little better, of course. Figure out what it was that had drawn me to her at first sight. Could I love her?

There was only one way to find out…

Chapter 5

Anna

Anna, would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight? Please.

-Wulf

I read the note again as I stood in front of the small looking glass in my bedroom, although I had no need to. I had memorized it after the first four times I’d read it, and the twelve million times since then had been more about the note itself than the words.

Studying his handwriting—bold, succinct, like he wasn’t used to having to write things down. His signature—he hadn’t used Prince Beowulf, but simply Wulf. And that “please”. Oh my goodness, that “please”.

I would give him anything he wanted—anything in the world—and he’d still said “please”.

Was it possible to fall in love in a matter of hours?

I’d always been half in love with him, just from the newspaper articles and castle gossip, but then to spend those few minutes with him—with him in me…! Well, I knew I’d treasure those memories.

Of course, over the last two weeks—I was surprised by my disappointment when my flux had come and gone as it always did—I’d come to accept that all I would have were memories.

He obviously hadn’t been interested in me for anything other than another notch on his bedpost, but I couldn’t even be angry. Certainly, he’d stolen my heart. And he’d ruined me for any other man.

But it had been worth it.

The memory of that orgasm was enough to keep me warm at night, even if I hadn’t been able to replicate it, no matter how hard I tried.

And then….

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