Page 42 of The Wrong Bride
She so completely stilled that he had to chuckle. He leaned down and spoke into her ear. “That’s better.”
He waited for her to tell him to move his hand, but it didn’t happen. She was trembling, her eyes downcast, but he knew this wasn’t fear, not after the incredible kiss they’d shared the previous night. Or maybe it was a kind of fear, but of herself and what would happen if she gave in.
He took his hand from her thigh, then plucked the tie from her braid and used his fingers to comb out the locks. He spread her blond hair across the pillow like a halo. She wasn’t an angel, but he didn’t want her to be perfect or lofty or pure.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, lowering his face to inhale the floral scent of her hair.
He picked up a curl and used it like a paintbrushacross her cheek. She twitched, bit her lip, and kept her gaze firmly on the ceiling. He traced a path down the slope of her nose and over her lips, lingering to tease her chin.
“Hugh,” she began with exasperation.
“Shh.”
He used her hair for feathering touches down her neck to the edge of her dressing gown. The lock of her hair did his touching for him, traveling down between her breasts even as he imagined what it would be like if it were her bare skin.
Her breathing was swift and unsteady, and ceased altogether when he circled her breasts at a slow pace, first one and then the other. He traced the little false paintbrush very near the peaks, but always backed off. He was waiting for her groan of disappointment and need, but she withheld it with some sort of herculean effort. Her tightly closed eyes and need to moisten her dry lips was not only a balm to his pride, but made him long to show her more.
At last he could resist no longer, and he twirled the end of her hair across her nipple. She gasped and shuddered, pulling her hair free of his hand.
“Stop! Hugh—you shouldn’t—I mustn’t—”
“Mustn’t feel pleasure? Our bodies were designed for it, lass. Every part of your skin will crave my touch before long. And I not only want to touch”—he let his lips brush her ear as he spoke—“I want to taste.”
She made a strangled sound and turned her flushed face away from him. His blood was afire with need, his mind trying to stop him, knowing he would not have release this night, or perhaps not any night soon.
This was a seduction that would last a lifetime. He’d spent his adulthood learning patience, and now he could put it to the test. She was worth it.
“Sleep, lass. But I’m not leaving your bed.”
He rolled onto his back because he didn’t trust himself not to touch her again. He listened to the gradual quieting of her breathing, felt the trembling slowly fade away. Turning his head, he saw her eyes closed, her expression relaxed as she slipped into sleep.
How long would she fight him? And would her resistance outlast his ability to control his passion for her?
RIONAawoke when Hugh left the bed at dawn, though she kept her eyes closed as he tucked the counterpane around her. Through the faint gray out the windows, she watched him put another brick of peat on the coals of the fire, as if he cared about her comfort.
He cared about making her want him, wanting her to stay, she thought with resignation.
She might be an innocent, but she knew enough about the world to know he could simply forceher to accept him in front of his people, force her to accept the marriage because of the contract, but he wasn’t doing that. And she had to reluctantly admire him for that—even if she thought he was a stubborn fool for not believing that she told him the truth.
But if he believed her, then their wedding would be a lie, and he wasn’t ready to accept defeat.
But she wasn’t ready to hang around just waiting and hoping for it, she thought, watching his body as he walked toward the doorway to the dressing room. His shoulders were so incredibly broad and masculine, full of muscle from wielding a sword, and she couldn’t help her fascination. His hips were narrow, as if built to lie between her thighs. That forbidden thought brought on a physical ache of need that scared her. Last night, when he’d teased her with her own hair, she’d been shocked how desperate she’d been for him to caress her breasts, how disappointed when he’d only teased the peaks for endless minutes. And then when he’d actually touched them, the shock had gone through her body and to that most secret place between her thighs. She was aware that touching herself felt good, but whenhe’dtouched her . . . She’d had no idea a man could do that to her, even though she was so unwilling to be seduced—even though he was her cousin’s betrothed.
She covered her faced with a pillow and groanedinto it. She had to bring about an end to this farce before it was too late.
At breakfast in the great hall, she discovered he’d already left for the day, off to see nearby rigs of land. Samuel had told her Hugh had been studying new agricultural methods and wanted to try them. Dermot had gone with him, and she was relieved Hugh hadn’t insisted she attend.
She returned to her room for her cloak. It was another gray, rainy day, which fit in perfectly with an idea she’d just had. She was testing the castle’s defenses—and Hugh’s promise of a secret bodyguard watching her every move.
She left the castle as she did each day, and began a slow walk around the courtyards. People were used to seeing her now, and some even nodded, but no one gave her more attention than that. Maybe there was no bodyguard at all, and Hugh had lied to keep her in line.
She decided to leave through the main gatehouse, where far more people came and went, hoping she’d remain inconspicuous. Packhorses with supplies and travelers on foot entered each day. Guards stopped everyone arriving, but those leaving seemed free to do so. Just in case the guards had been told to watch for her, she timed her departure for when several packhorses were leaving together, and walked on the far side of them. She kept her hood up, her head down, while her heart pounded. Guards spoketo new arrivals in Gaelic, horses neighed, chickens squawked, but she just kept moving.
The packhorses distanced themselves from her as she followed the winding trail down the hillside toward Loch Voil. Her hopes began to rise with every footfall—there was no bodyguard! How could she use this new knowledge?
“Lady Riona, allow me to accompany ye on your walk today.”
She winced and stumbled to a halt, recognizing the voice. Turning, she found Samuel ambling toward her, wearing a pleased smile as if he was glad for her company.
