Page 80 of To Wed an Heiress
Rain slashed against the windows and lightning illuminated the room in a bright white flash that lasted only a second.
He looked down at Mercy. “I need to ask you if you’re certain, at least one more time.”
“No,” she said, startling him. “I’m not entirely certain. I know I’m being horribly unwise, but I want this.”
“Aye, Mercy. If I were a better man I would leave you right this moment.”
She reached up and entwined her arms around his neck. “Not if I won’t let you leave,” she said. “You have asked me enough times, Lennox. You’ve been honorable and decent and a man of great character. Forgive me if I’m not of the same estimable character, but I want to remember this for the rest of my life.”
Must you leave? A question he didn’t ask because it promised a commitment he couldn’t make. Yet even as he kissed her, a voice whispered about the stupidity of pride. This surprising, enchanting, fascinating woman had offered to change his life and he’d turned her down.
He was either the world’s worst fool or the proudest man in Scotland.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
He shouldn’t have returned to the room. Nor should he be here now. But any kind of caution Lennox should have uttered to himself was useless at the moment. His baser self had taken over, the entity who lectured him endlessly and was heartily sick of his hermitage. The same creature who’d spent countless moments adrift in thought about the woman in his arms.
His hands were shaking. His fingers trembled as they slid over Mercy’s skin. She was warm, yet her flesh pebbled at his touch.
He kissed the sigh that emerged from between her lips.
“Forgive me,” he said, his better nature surfacing from beneath his need.
She pulled his head down for a deeper kiss, silencing any further words he might’ve said. In that second he was truly lost, given over to the feel of her beneath his hands.
It had been some time for him, yet he couldn’t remember when the act had ever been painted with a sense of wonder.
He kissed his way down her throat, across her shoulders, and between her breasts before giving attention to both of them.
Her gasp was an indication of how shocking all of this was to her. Another reminder, perhaps, that he should stop, excuse himself, and retreat to his tower room. Instead, he kissed her again, growing familiar with the delicacy of her mouth and the sound of her sighs.
Perhaps she had some imperfection, but he couldn’t find it. Everything about Mercy was flawless from the curve of her shoulders to the slenderness of her ankles.
She was a virgin, deserving of patience. He wasn’t sure if he could restrain himself. Every moment touching her ratcheted his desire up even further.
Her kisses became wild things, her breathing nearly the match of his. His hands stroked her intimately, found proof that she was ready. Even so he should have waited perhaps.
He wasn’t a god, only a man.
If she rebuffed him he would somehow find the strength to leave her.
All she did was smile up at him, wind her arms around his neck, and pull him down to her.
She shouldn’t be doing this. Every rule she’d learned from her mother, her nurses, and her governesses was geared toward this one act. She was to be treated as inviolate, the Vestal Rutherford Virgin. She was to act pure, hold herself up to a higher standard than most women, and be without blemish or flaw.
No one had ever embraced their downfall with as much enthusiasm as Mercy felt right now.
Lennox was touching her, kissing her, causing remarkable sensations throughout her body. Her skin felt heated, even her breathing was different as if she were running a race.
Her breasts felt as if they were swelling to meet his touch, her nipples hard. Each of his kisses had left an impression on her lips. She’d never feel another kiss like his, never experience the wonder at the simple touch of a mouth on hers.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, then flattened against his impressive chest.
His manhood was hard against her stomach and she wanted to touch it, but held back. A second later she dared herself and when her hand brushed against it, Lennox made a sound in the back of his throat.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked, wishing she knew more.
“No,” he said, before kissing her again. Permission, then, to keep touching him.
