Page 77 of My Scot, My Surrender
“Adorable is for puppies,” she grumbled. “I’m the feared Beast of Maclaren. Trumpets blare and knees quake at my approach.”
Brandt drew her close and kissed her nose and then her lips. “Fierce, then. Glorious. Magnificent.”
“I do like those.”
Laughing, she rewarded him with a kiss, and it didn’t take long for their chaste kissing to turn into something else completely. With a shock, Sorcha felt the part of him that was still inside her surge to life, and she met his amused gaze. “Is that normal?” she asked.
“For some men, yes.” He nipped at her jaw. “And I’ll tell you a secret, my innocent little wife. A man and a woman can…come together the way you saw with those horses as well, though it’s not typical for a lass’s first time.”
Assailed by a barrage of wanton, thoroughly lewd thoughts at such an animalistic coupling, Sorcha blushed as she felt him move within her again, growing and lengthening with every breath. She wondered whether he was thinking of those very same things. Meeting Brandt’s eyes, every inch of her warmed at the blatant desire she saw burning in their depths. Apparently, he was.
And as it turned out, the desire was very,verymutual.
Her husband liked it when she told him what she wanted, so screwing up her courage, she licked her lips and ran her hand boldly over his tight, bare arse. “Will you show me?”
He gave her a lusty smile. “That will be my pleasure, my lady.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The woman lying beside Brandt snored gently in her sleep. He smiled. She would be mortified and would likely argue that she’d never, not once, snored, but he quite liked the contented little sounds. They were the breaths of someone who was caught in the cradle of a deep, satisfying slumber. And the new Lady Glenross had indeed been satisfied. He’d made sure of it. She slept on her stomach, one arm flung above her head, the other draped loosely over his hip as the morning rays from the rising sun crept over the windowsills.
Glossy curls of thick ebony hair were strewn across the lithe expanse of her back, of which he had kissed every delectable inch. Including the many scars that traversed it in a heartbreaking tapestry. There was no part of her body that he did not now intimately know…the silken skin of her nipples, her lean strong legs, her sweet pliant thighs.
Unsurprisingly, Brandt felt himself growing stiff. If it were up to him, he would keep his wanton wife in bed all day. Last night had been eye-opening in more ways than one. Not only did her lustful passions match his, but Brandt had come to the slow realization that she was his match in every other way as well.
Hell, he didn’t know if what he felt was love, but he did know that the thought of being without her left a gaping darkness inside him. Perhaps that was how love felt—like light in a darkened room or that first sliver of sunrise chasing away shadows. Love or not, there was no way he was turning her over to the Brodies. No, Lady Sorcha Montgomery belonged to him. As did this keep and the entire clan. She was a Montgomery now—the wife of a duke, not the wife of a stable master. And Brandt wanted to keep it that way.
He shifted, gently disentangling himself from her sleepy embrace, hoping not to disturb her. But warm fingers drifted over his bare hip bone. His glance slid to meet an awake and curious blue gaze. “Do you always think so heavily when you awaken?” she asked, her voice still husky with sleep. “You have grooves just here.” She drew the pad of a fingertip between his brows.
“Were you watching me?” he asked with a smile.
She blushed, her finger inching down his nose to press against his lips. “It’s my second favorite thing to do.”
“Oh?” He drew the tip of her finger into his mouth and sucked gently. “And what’s the first, Lady Glenross?”
Her blue eyes instantly darkened with desire and then widened. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that name. In my heart, I’ll always be Lady Pierce. That’s who you were when we first met.” Brandt bit gently, and her eyes flared in response, her words going breathy. “And now you’re a duke, or you will be.”
He released her finger from its wet prison. “And you’ll be a duchess.”
“It never mattered to me, you know,” she said. “Who you were. You’re everything that I hoped for when I prayed for someone to save me from Malvern.”
“Prayedfor someone?” he teased. “As I recall, my lady, you had a solution well in hand.”
The light fled her eyes. “You speak of my trickery.”
Brandt lifted her by the arms and draped her body over him. “I speak of your kiss,” he whispered, pulling her head down to his, “and the way your sweet little tongue did this.” Smiling, he darted his own into her mouth and kissed her soundly. It didn’t take much coaxing for her to respond, and by the time their mouths parted, she was straddling his thick erection, her sapphire eyes glazed with desire.
“Are you not too sore?”
Sorcha blushed. “A little, but not enough to…want to stop.”
“You are insatiable.” He laughed and took her lips again, filling his palms with her breasts and kneading gently.
She wasn’t the only one. He, too, couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Just when he thought he was satiated, his body rose anew, clamoring for more. Brandt had made love to her twice more over the course of the night, though gently. But now she took charge, undulating her hips in a way that made him blind with lust, and when she finally slid down onto him, he almost lost himself then and there. His devilish wife set a maddeningly slow pace, as if relishing the friction and every voluptuous thrust. She watched him with those intent eyes, already understanding what pleased him and what drove him to distraction. And when their movements grew more frantic and they joined in blissful release, Brandt could only clutch her close, words escaping him yet again.
Words that he should have told her…words heshouldtell her.
But Brandt remained silent, holding her close and letting his body say what his mouth could not.
