Her Wicked Highland Spy (The Marriage Maker #10)(18)

His mouth sought hers once again and the feverish kissing resumed, the larder filling with their soft moans and the rustle of cloth. She wanted to touch him. She knew it was dangerous. Already, they stood on the edge of taking things too far—perhaps, they already had.

He drew a sudden jagged breath and stepped back. “If I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop.”

Stop? She blinked and shook her head as if to wake herself. “Then don’t,” she breathed, even as shock at her own words swept her.

His chuckle sounded hoarse. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I am…no virgin.” The words slipped from her mouth, but she wanted him to know. The darkness somehow made it easier to confess. “I…thought to marry him. I was a fool…” She’d let herself be swept away with the captain. And this time? She winced. She was clearly repeating her past mistakes. Nae, this time, she was practically throwing herself at the man…yet for the life of her, she couldn’t stop.

Ethan stepped closer and his mouth nuzzled the skin under her ear. “It matters naught to me, sweeting. With my size and girth, you may yet feel like a virgin again.” She felt him smile against her neck.

The preposterousness of his statement made her laugh.

He nibbled her ear. “Just know that with you, I’ll not be inclined to give up what I claim, Rosalyn. When I take you, you will be mine for a lifetime.”

The words threatened to melt every bone in her body. When I take you?

“You’re very much the firebrand I knew you would be,” he groaned into her hair, then nipped the lobe of her ear and stepped back. “But I won’t take you here. Not like this.” He burned her lips in a searing kiss, fast and hot, then added in a final whisper, “We’re not finished, you and I, lass. Not by a long shot.”

To her utter shock, he strode to the door and left the larder.

Rosalyn stayed there a few minutes more, breasts heaving. Not finished by a long shot? She’d been more than ready to bed him—indeed, she needed him inside her. He’d been more than ready himself, and he was clearly the kind of man who bedded women as he pleased, just as she’d let him know she was the kind of woman to receive him, the kind who had already bedded a man….

She flinched. Tomorrow, it would be even harder to face him.

*

“Mice,” the housekeeper said in a tone of displeasure as Rosalyn slipped into the breakfast parlor early the next morning.

“It’s a shame,” Lady Sarah clucked.

“Shame?” Rosalyn took her seat. Ethan had just left for his morning ride, but with the clouds on the horizon, he might not ride long. She’d have to eat quickly.

The housekeeper scowled. “Mice. In the larder. Ate Lady Sara’s caraway cake, they did. Mauled it. Left quite the mess.”

Rosalyn nearly choked on her muffin.

“Perhaps it was a rat,” her aunt proposed.

“Perhaps,” the housekeeper agreed.

“More likely, two,” Ethan’s deep baritone suggested from the door.

Rosalyn did choke then, the crumbs flying up her nose. At least it stopped the conversation. As the housekeeper obligingly pounded her back, Rosalyn hid her face in her napkin and wanted to melt through the floor.

Finally, when she caught her breath, she glanced up to see Ethan lounging against the door with a wicked grin on his face and looking devastatingly handsome in his crisp white shirt and dark gray breeches.

As he entered the room, Rosalyn jumped to her feet.

“I’ve forgotten…I…If you’ll excuse me, Auntie.” She cleared her throat, flustered, and slipped past him, heading for the door.

He caught her hand as she passed by him. Startled, she looked up into his eyes.

“Hurry back, will you?” He squeezed her fingers, grazing his thumb along her inner wrist as a smile curved his chiseled lips.

She stood there like a fool before she tugged her hand free. What must her auntie and the housekeeper think?

She escaped out the door and up to her room. Sanity returned in a rush. Despite what her heart wanted, the man wasn’t hers. There was no future here but heartache. She was here for one purpose only: to observe.

Oh, she’d made a royal mess of things. She was failing on all accounts. There was truly only one course of action left now.

She would write Lady Elana, confess her failure, then…she had to leave.





Chapter Nine


A Marriage-Minded Man



Ethan swirled his brandy in its glass and watched the firelight flicker through the amber liquid. Again, Rosalyn spent the day avoiding him. Why? She’d been more than willing to ride his shaft in the larder. He’d come so close to taking her there against the wall. He’d only stopped out of respect for Lord Stafford. He’d marry the lass first. Still, she puzzled him. He’d think it some misplaced shame over her past, but he’d assured her he didn’t care. So, why was she hell-bent on denying herself—and him?

There were ways to find the truth. He grinned. Aye, he knew many ways—delightful ones—to make a woman talk. Perhaps he’d slip into her bed once darkness fell and show her a few… His cock lifted at once. He shifted and set his brandy down. He knew better than to imagine such things. His honor compelled him to wait until they were wed, but for that to occur, he needed first to solve whatever bothered the lass.