Page 85 of Her Magnificent Mistake
Lady Mistree beamed. “My dear Reggie and I had quite a few adventures over the years, traveling around the world, meeting strange and wonderful people and collecting quite a few oddities. Like me. We are all oddities in our own ways, and I amso gladwe have all found one another.”
As they all blinked, shocked at the thought that this woman might have seen something they had not, Lady Mistree turned to Gabby. “I am particularly interested in your future, my dear. I have something for you, and I am looking forward to giving it to you when you visit me next week at my home in London.”
Gabby blinked. “I had not planned on being in?—”
Her brother nudged her hard enough to send her stumbling.
With a small chuckle, Lady Mistree turned back to Bull. “And now, my dear, indulge me?”
“Of course,” he murmured, still surprised. “But what?—”
“Ask an old woman to dance!” she cackled, sliding her arm through his.
For the first time since Hawk had known him, Bull seemed completely and totally speechless, just like his sister and cousins.
It seemed like a fine time to whisk his dazed bride away. Laughing, Hawk pulled Marcia into his arms and swept her into a long-awaited waltz.
Her blood already thrumming in anticipation, Marcia pulled the belt of her robe tight. It was a pale blue silk, given to her by a snickering Gabby and a fiercely blushing Hunter, with quite a lot of material below the belt and very little above.
She thought it made her look rather fetching, and couldn’t wait to hear what her new husband thought. The dances they’d shared, the way Hawk had slid his hand across her rear end when no one was looking, had her desperate for his touch in other places.
But when she hurried from the changing room into their chambers, Marcia was a little disappointed to find him already half-nude, sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs before the hearth in just his kilt and shirt, just finishing a glass of whisky.
“Oh damn.” Planting her hands on her hips, she pretended to pout. “I was looking forward to undressing you.”
She wasn’t even certain Hawk heard her; the way his eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he took in her appearance was really quite satisfactory.
“Do you like it?” Marcia twirled about, allowing the skirts to fan out around her. “I confess it is a little more froo-froo than I normally would choose…”
“I love it,” Hawk rasped, slowly standing, his gaze raking her curves. “Ye must never, ever take it off.”
The thought was so preposterous, Marcia giggled. But he was already stalking toward her, the look in his eyes making his intention clear. She made a show of swishing the gown back and forth a few times, hoping to incite his desire, but doubted he noticed.
“Christ, Marsh.” He placed his hands on her waist, then dragged them up her sides until he was cupping her breasts through the silk. “Ye look stunning in this.”
With a hum, she locked her arms around his neck. “I would look stunning out of it.”
Hawk didn’t reply, but lowered his mouth to hers.
It was as if they perfectly understood one another and the dance; without words, they kissed, they fondled, they moaned. They pulled apart only long enough to tug his shirt out of the way—his kilt had mysteriously ended up on the floor, and Marcia wasn’t certain how.
But this kiss, this caress, was soft and gentle and full of joy. With each touch, they told each other how much they were loved. How much they were cherished.
Marcia could feel his hardness pressing against her stomach, and squeezed her thighs together as she flexed her hips forward, trying to draw out the pleasure building inside her.
“Hawk,” she moaned as his mouth moved across her shoulder. “I need ye…”
“Aye, lass. But I wanted to make tonight special.”
She dug her fingers into his hair and tugged his head up so she could meet his gaze. “Every night with you is special, husband.”
His dark eyes softened, and he held her gaze for a long moment. Then, with a gentle nod, Hawk unwrapped himself from her and tugged her across the room.
When he sank down into the same chair where he’d been sitting earlier, Marcia eagerly followed. Her thighs slid to either side of his lap, straddling him, and she reached for the tie to her robe.
Hawk’s hand on hers stopped the movement. “I told ye to leave it on, wife,” he commanded, low and deep, his voice sending shivers down her spine.
So with a few wriggles and shifts, she was able to pull the silk from beneath her, until it spread around them both. Hawk’s touch rose to her shoulders, his callused fingertips dragging along the skin of her throat and bosom. As she reached between them to encircle his cock with her fingers, he pulled her breasts from their silk shelter and lifted one to his mouth.
