The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(76)

“That isn’t saying much,” she said wryly.

He laughed. “I suspect that was your intent.” She didn’t deny it. “You were far too thin. Believe me, sweeting, your new curves have only added to your beauty, and my desire for you. If you like, you can feel for yourself.” He was pleased to see a blush rise to her cheeks, but unfortunately, she didn’t take him up on his offer. “My concern is for the child. Is this … I don’t want to do anything to hurt …”

A shy smile returned to her face. “The baby will not be hurt. The church might not like it, but I believe it is quite common for a husband to share his wife’s bed until near the end of the pregnancy.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, and that was enough. He swept her up into his arms—or arm, as he could easily bear her weight on his good arm—and carried her to the bed.

Laying her gently atop the bed coverings, he proceeded to remove his boots, plaid, and shirt. Bared to the waist, he turned to see her studying him with a distressed look on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

Troubled eyes lifted to his. “Your arm. Does it hurt very badly? I never thanked you for what you did for Davey.” She shivered. “Had you not been there …”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her, putting his finger on her mouth to stop her from finishing the thought. “Don’t think about it. But you’re welcome.” He moved his arm around. It was stiff and still a bit sore, but it felt surprisingly strong. Thanks to his sister. “The wound is healing well. I should be able to resume my duties on the battlefield soon enough.”

Just not too soon.

“I wish there was something I could do.”

His blood heated at the innocent offer. He could think of a lot of things she could do. But those would keep for later.

Stretched out on the bed before him, with her golden hair spilling out on the pillow behind her head, her lush form clad in a thin chemise and velvet robe tied loosely around the middle, adorably tiny feet peeking out from below, she was doing plenty. He drew in his breath and traced the lush curves and contours of her br**sts with the back of one finger.

He heard her draw in her breath as well, and when he looked at her face, he watched as the flush of desire washed over her. Her lips parted. Her eyes drew heavy. Her cheeks pinkened. It was one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen.

With one touch he could arouse her passion, and it was just as hot and fiery as his.

Desire roared through his veins. His heart started to pound and his c**k swelled hard, straining and throbbing against the ties of his breeches. He wanted to take her tiny hand and wrap it around him. He wanted to feel the wet heat of her mouth sucking him. But most of all he wanted to bury himself deep inside her until she couldn’t deny this connection between them.

“There is something you can do,” he rasped, the heat in his eyes leaving no question of his meaning.

She feigned shock. “Are you asking me to pay you back with my body, my lord?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “I am. And I intend for you to pay dearly. Starting right now.” His finger found the nub of her nipple, and he started to draw tiny little circles around its tip until it hardened to a delicious point. It was everything he could do not to rip the robe and chemise apart and take it in his mouth. Her br**sts were incredible. So full and ripe.

But this wasn’t going to be about lust. He was going to seduce his bride if it killed him. He wanted her begging for him.

Mary couldn’t move. Every nerve ending in her body was flared and straining in the direction of his finger. Sweet heaven, what was he doing to her? This wasn’t going at all as she’d planned. She’d envisioned a quick and passionate coupling. Preferably in the dark. Not this intimacy. Not talking. Not teasing. Not slow, unhurried seduction.

Like a spider to the fly, he was luring her into his dangerous web. She could feel herself sliding, slipping into a place of confusing emotions. A place where she would be unprotected and vulnerable to emotions she didn’t want to feel.

She had to get back on track. Open her eyes and harden her heart. Passion, not tenderness. Lust, not intimacy.

But the more she knew him, the harder it was to resist him. He wasn’t just a handsome, wicked scoundrel who’d taunted her with a night of passion. He was still cocky and arrogant, and he still had far too many women throwing themselves at his feet, but behind the bold facade he was also kind, considerate, and at times surprisingly sweet. Looking at his fierce, imposing facade, you would never know it. But she did.

If only he would stop looking at her like that. If only he would stop touching her like that. He’d taken command of her body with one deft finger.

“Do you like that, sweeting?” he said softly.

She wanted to tell him no. She didn’t want to draw this out any longer than was necessary, but her br**sts were so heavy. Her nipple throbbed, ached for something more.

She was trying so hard to resist. But finally the sensation built until she couldn’t hold it any longer. The restless, impatient feeling was coming over her again. She let out a soft cry, arching into his hand. “Please.”

Finally, he cupped her in his palms, rubbing her nipple between his finger and forefinger with just the right amount of pressure. She remembered the heat of his mouth through her gown the last time …