A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(38)

It was. She’d been very uncomfortable. Still . . . “You didn’t have to feed them lies.”

“I fed them what they wanted to hear. Besides, most of it was the truth.”

Cassandra almost laughed. “In what way? Yes, we met at the Harvest Home but I remember you stealing pies—”

“I mentioned that—”

“—after I’d been instructed to keep an eye on them. You got me in trouble. Mrs. Morwath had said I failed as pie guard and had dismissed me. That was the reason I’d gone off to hide with a book.” Mrs. Morwath was the rector’s wife, and a more intimidating woman did not exist.

“Nor,” she continued, “was my hair curling down my back. I always wore my hair up. Yesterday morning and the other night were the first times you’ve ever seen it down and even then, I had it in a braid.” She sat back on her heels, holding the pillow in front of her.

“But I have a good imagination.” Soren plopped onto the bed, making the mattress shift beneath her. “And your eyes are blue.”

“Not bluer than blue.”

“Did I say that?” He came up on his knees, close to her.

She did not dignify his challenge. Instead, she grumbled, “They are downstairs with all sorts of romantic notions.”

“They don’t have to be wrong.” He leaned close to her as he spoke and lightly pressed his lips to her neck just below her ear.

His breath on her skin made her start. She snapped her head around. “What are you doing?” she said. Their faces were mere inches from each other.

“Seducing you,” he answered. His voice was mesmerizing. “We are going to be very good together, Cass.” He reached for the pillow she’d been holding in front of her.

“You don’t know that,” she whispered.

“I’m willing to find out. Aren’t you?”





Chapter 10




Cassandra was an innocent. For all of her book knowledge, Soren knew she understood very little about men and women.

Then again, he had no doubt she had attempted to glean all she could from between the lines of her favorite poets. She’d always been eager to learn, and he longed to be her tutor.

He placed his hand on the pillow, anxious to remove it from between them. She caught his arm at the wrist. The movement brought them even closer together. Her breasts barely brushed his chest and yet heat shot through him.

She searched his eyes. “Can I trust you?”

“With your life. I’ll always protect you, Cass.”

“But will you be honest with me? Honesty was not stated in the vows. I believe it should have been. It is important.”

“Why would I not be?”

“Did you not hear yourself downstairs?”

And yet, she was a politician’s daughter. Everyone knew her father embellished stories. He did what was expedient.

But it wasn’t MP Holwell who made the request. It was the woman he longed to please.

“I vow my honesty,” he answered.

She released his wrist.

He dropped the pillow over the side of the bed and put his hands to better use.

His lips found hers.

Without a hint of maidenly modesty, Cass’s mouth kissed him without an ounce of reserve. She was acting on instinct. Her kiss was raw emotion. He adored it.

He cupped the side of her face, to guide her. She responded. He eased her enthusiasm and deepened the kiss while he leaned her back upon the bed.

Cass’s arm went around his neck. Her breasts arched toward him.

Did she know what she was doing to him? He’d thought he’d be the teacher. Instead, she was the one doing the schooling. If this was what reading poetry could do to a woman, well, every man should buy his wife a book. Perhaps even ten.

He ran his hand down over her hip, exploring, testing. Her legs were well-formed and shapely. Her hip had the sweetest curve that rolled into a perfect waist.

This was his wife.

And he was past ready to see all of her.

He eased onto his back carrying her with him. Roses, diamond pins, and golden hair fell around them. Her breasts rested against his chest. Sweet, sweet Cass. She smelled of violets and woman, a scent that had teased him all afternoon. He began unlacing the back of her gown.

Their kiss broke. “What are you doing?” she asked. Her lips were already swollen with the force of his desire. Her eyes seemed to be deep pools of blue, like the sea under a turbulent sky.

“Undressing you.”

“That is what I hoped,” she answered. She went back to kissing.

She had to know how aroused he was. She moved as if aware of his erection. He took her leg and gently brought it to his hip so that he could fit against her better. The movement lifted her skirts even higher. He coaxed her sleeves down over her shoulders, but he was having difficulty. The truth was, her kisses and his hardness were making it challenging for him to think.

She sensed the problem. “Here, let me help.” She slid off him so that she could stand by the bed. First, she removed the famed strand of pearls and set them on the bedside table. Then, grabbing her skirts, she pulled her dress up over her head.

A low growl of satisfaction caught in his throat. She wore a lawn chemise that barely covered full, round breasts, and a petticoat of the same sheer fabric. The shadow of her legs in silk stockings was the stuff of men’s dreams.