Page 70 of His Betrothed
Not fear, no.
Sheshouldfear him—everything inside him demanded he put her on her back on the table, take her here in the sunshine, regardless of who would see.
Was it possession he wanted, or just proof that she lusted as much as he did?
And if she pulled away, it would tell him nothing about what she protected—her reputation or herselfor even her family.
Ah, but he wanted to touch that creamy, freckled skin that he could still remember wet under the starlight.
As he stared down at her, Spencer heardhimself say, “Your carpenter wasn’t pleased to see me.”
“How would you feel if another man overheard you courting a woman?”
“Especially when he was overheard by the woman’s betrothed.” He regretted the words almost immediately.
She drew a deep breath and her eyes glittered, but he quickly covered her mouth with his fingers.
“I didn’t mean to start another argument,” he began. “I didn’t want—”
But the soft, moist feel of Roselyn’s mouth beneath his fingers stoked the blaze of the irrational desire he had for her. All his focus suddenly concentrated on keeping his hand from trembling; there was no will left to stop hisfingers from wandering.
Bending low, he cupped her face with both hands, letting his thumbs follow the curve of her full lower lip. Her eyelashes fluttered and lowered, and her breath was almost a gasp now.
A sudden desperation welled up inside him. He thought of leaving her in four days, of going to London to face possible death. For the first time, he didn’t feel in such a hurry. Was it solaceand comfort he wanted, he who knew better than to expect that from any woman? He’d neverwantedit from any woman—until now.
His thumbs traced her eyelids, then the light brows that arched across her forehead. The fragile line of her cheek aroused him, and suddenly he was dying to taste her there. He dropped to his knees, the pain from his healing leg just a vague call in the distance. Leaningagainst her tightly clasped knees, he held her face before him, then pressed his lips to her cheek.
Inhaling brought an exquisite, painful pleasure—she smelled like Roselyn, like baking bread and wildflowers and woman.
He leaned more against her legs, but still her knees did battle, though her hands remained clenched in her lap. Ah, how she struggled against herself. The familiar rush of excitement,of the forbidden, held him in its grip.
With his hands on her shoulders, he arched her back against the table, until her throat was bare to him. His lips nibbled wandering paths across her white skin; he licked at the little hollow where her pulse thrummed at the base of her throat.
Her black garments hid the rest of her from him, and he felt a primitive urge to rip them from her, claim herthere.
Claim her? What claim could he have anymore, what promises could he offer? Besides money, what had he ever had to offer?Shehad realized that long ago.
Spencer straightened, placing his hands on the bench on either side of her with the greatest care, as if he didn’t trust his fingers to stop caressing her.
Her thighs suddenly parted, and he found himself falling between her legs. Roselyn’sface was a bare whisper away, and before he could register any shock, she kissed him.
There was an innocence to her kiss, but she was only tentative, not shy. Shewantedto kiss him, and that knowledge sent his lust roaring to new heights.
Their open mouths clung together, their tongues searching and tasting, their bodies straining for even greater closeness.
He was mindless, drowning, lost,and he allowed his hands to find their way beneath her skirts, to skim up over her stockinged calves. He shuddered at the bare flesh behind her knees—then froze as he realized what he was doing.
Lifting his head, he looked down to see Roselyn’s eyes closed, her head back, passion like a rose-colored flush across her skin.
All under the late afternoon sun, in view of anyone who might come by.
Her eyes opened, then blinked with a slow, languid awareness that made him think of awakening at dawn in her arms.
“What are we doing?” he whispered, while his fingers crept upward behind her thighs.
“I—I should go. I have so many orders from the tavern to bake.”
She stumbled over her words, and he wanted to kiss them away. Instead he teased even higher, until he could feel the roundness ofher backside against his fingertips.
