Page 80 of Their Master

Suddenly his head whipped up and his gaze locked with hers, his hand not pausing it’s thrusting. “Your mind is wandering. You must tell me what you need if I’m failing you.”

Moira opened her mouth to lie—but then he shifted his angle and struck something inside her that caused every muscle in her body to tighten at once.

She cried out and gripped the sides of the bench.

“That’s better,” he said, hitting the same spot again and again and again, until she gave in, drowning in wave upon wave of pure sensation.

Moira’s eyelids felt heavy and it took effort to lift them. The first thing she saw was Smith, staring at her. She squinted, disoriented. “Was I—did I fall asleep?” she asked, noticing that the stirrups were no longer spread wide and her body had been covered with a towel.

“Only for a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry. I never usually—”

“Shhh. You don’t need to apologize. Giving you pleasure makes me very happy, Moira.”

His words sent a warm rush of … something coursing through her body.

But then Moira noticed that Smith didn’t look happy at all. If anything, he looked unspeakably weary.

“Are you—is anything amiss?” she asked haltingly.

“No.” He smiled, his gaze so alert and warm that Moira thought she must have imagined any exhaustion.

Hetsked. “I came here intending to shave you and got carried away.” He ran a finger lightly over the towel that covered the prickly skin on her mound.

“Oh,” Moira said. “I completely forgot.”

He laughed. “I enjoyed making you forget. But now, unfortunately, I had better be on my way.” He paused and then said something… odd. “Unless you wanted something else from me?”

She gawked at him; a jumble of thoughts fighting to get out of her mouth:

Please don’t leave!

You’re in danger, and it’s all my fault.

I’m so sorry.

I’ve fallen in love with you.

Moira’s jaws ached with the effort of keeping them closed.

His dark eyes bored into her, his lips parted slightly. “Yes?” Smith urged, sounding almost breathless.

“I—” She bit her lip, and then forced a smile. “I wish you safe travels.”

Chapter 19

November 5th

Moira’s palms wouldn’t quit sweating.

From the moment she’d woken up that morning—far too early, but unable to sleep—until twelve hours later, her hands had been cool and clammy. She’d never experienced such anxiety in her life.

That’s because you’ve never before betrayed a man whose child you are carrying—a child you’ve been hiding from him.

It was true.

Moira must have become pregnant not long after her last courses. She’d briefly deliberated letting Smith know—perhaps he would trust her more and it would be easier to get Etienne, Turnbull, and his idiots into the house—but had, ultimately, decided the information belonged only to her.

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