The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(31)

One night …

Temptation beckoned, but she tried to resist. “Isn’t the king expecting you?”

She hadn’t thought he would accept her offer. Or had she? Had it been some kind of test to see how badly he wanted this? Did he want it as badly as she did?

Apparently, he did. She had no idea why he wanted her with so many young, beautiful women hanging at his feet, but he did.

Don’t read anything into it.

“It will wait.”

She could wait, in other words. Mary might have been annoyed by his obvious disinterest and lack of regard for the woman the king had chosen to be his wife, but then he reached down and swept his hand along the curve of her cheek. She sucked in her breath. The feel of those warm, callused fingers on her skin made every nerve ending crackle. But it was the gentleness of the gesture that completely disarmed her. She felt a stab of longing so fierce it stole her breath. For one silly heartbeat she wanted to snuggle into the caress.

No! She wasn’t a romantic girl anymore. This was passion, nothing else. She needed to remember that. But Kenneth Sutherland was far more dangerous than she’d realized. Not only did his kiss make her burn with passion, his gentle touch roused far more dangerous emotions.

And this too-handsome-for-his-own-good, arrogant warrior with the face and muscular physique of a Greek god was built for a fantasy, nothing else.

“You’ve no reason to be nervous, little one. I’ll be gentle.”

But gentle wasn’t what she wanted from him. She wanted a fierce storm of passion. Lust, not tenderness. She wanted to feel what the woman in the barn had felt. Just once.

He looked into her eyes. The sensual curve of his mouth tantalizingly close, lips that had touched hers only inches away. She could still taste him on her tongue. She had never imagined sin could taste so good. Dark and spicy, with a hint of clove.

“You want this, Mary. I know you do. Just say yes.”

She stared at him helplessly, paralyzed by the sin of her desire, unable to say the words that would set aside a lifetime of morality.

It wasn’t right.

But was it really so wrong?

Neither of them was married. They wouldn’t be hurting anyone. She was six and twenty. A widow for three years, an overlooked and neglected wife before that. This might be the last chance to experience what she’d once dreamed about before her young girl’s illusions were shattered by a husband who hadn’t wanted her and had never given her remotely what she’d seen in the barn.

This man wanted her and could give it to her. With no conditions. No bonds that could not be dissolved. A man on her own terms.

It would only be one time. One night of passion. One night of sin. Was that too much to ask for?

He seemed to sense her struggle. Reaching behind her, he removed a flagon of wine that must have been on the table. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “Drink this. It will relax you.”

She did as he bade, nearly choking when she realized it wasn’t wine but whisky. He laughed, urging her to take another drink. She steeled herself, taking a long sip of the fiery brew.

When she was done, she handed it back to him. She wondered if maybe he wasn’t quite as confident as he appeared when he took a long, hard sip of the flagon as well—emptying it.

His eyes seemed a little hotter when he leaned over her again, putting his hands on either side of her hips as she rested against the table. “Tell me, Mary,” he repeated, the lilting huskiness of his voice adding a new level of temptation. She’d descended from purgatory straight to hell.

She shuddered. Powerful arms and the broad shield of his chest surrounded her like a steel cage. She couldn’t escape if she wanted to.

But she didn’t want to. She’d learned to make her own decisions, hadn’t she? She was going to do this.

That is, if her heart would stop racing long enough for her to take a breath.

But breathing became an afterthought when his mouth found the tender spot next to her ear. The heat of his breath against the damp skin sent a hot bellow of desire rushing through her. His mouth trailed along her jaw and then dipped to her neck, finding all the sensitive places along the way. She shuddered and moaned, defenseless against the powerful onslaught of sensation. He pressed a kiss on the frantic beat of her pulse.

“Say yes, Mary,” he whispered.

“Yes. Please, yes.”

Six

The moment the word was out of her mouth, he fell on her with a fierce growl of possession that sent a thrill right down to her toes. The chains of his passion had been released, and there was no holding him back. It was magnificent. Physical proof of his desire for her.

The slow, seductive caress of his lips on her throat and neck turned ravishing. He devoured whatever inch of bare skin he could find with his lips and tongue. Kissing. Sucking. Sliding and flicking his tongue over her fevered skin until she thought she would die from sheer pleasure. And then his lips were on hers again, and she was certain of it.

His tongue licked into her mouth, filling her with the exquisite taste of him.

For such a powerfully built man, his lips were surprisingly soft. And warm. Deliciously warm. She wanted to sink into him and never come up. She returned his kiss with all the newly wrought passion surging through her veins.

His kiss devastated, destroying whatever lingering doubt she had with each fierce stroke. Her chest squeezed with longing. She wanted this. Wanted it desperately. Wanted it more than she’d ever dreamed possible. He was making her feel things she’d never felt before. Her body tingled and burned with a restless energy. Feelings long dormant had come to life. She felt alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. She savored it. Welcomed it. Let it crash over her in wave after thrilling wave. He was a hot, drenching storm to her parched desert.