The Baronet's Bride (Midnight Quill #1.5)(13)

“No.”

Her fingertip traveled to the very apex of his shoulder, where his arm began. What there was of his arm. “And that?”

“No.”

She gave a nod and removed her finger and Gareth was disappointed for moment—and then she leaned closer and kissed his collarbone.

Cecily’s lips were soft and warm. She kissed her way along his collarbone, kisses as light and tickling as thistledown. Gareth held himself very still and concentrated on breathing.

She laid a final kiss on the apex of his shoulder. “That doesn’t hurt?” Her breath was warm on his skin.

“No,” Gareth whispered. Tears came to his eyes again. He blinked them away.

“Good.” She kissed him there a second time, her mouth lingering for a moment while her tongue stole a taste of his skin, making him shiver, making the tears sting more sharply in his eyes, and then sat back and gazed at his torso. “I like you without your nightshirt on.” She placed her hands high on his chest and slid them slowly downward, over his ribs to his abdomen, and then back up again.

The tears in Gareth’s eyes evaporated. All of his awareness narrowed to Cecily’s hands.

She found his nipples and took them between fingers and thumbs. “I liked what you did to me,” she said in that delightfully matter-of-fact way of hers. “Do you like being touched here, too?”

Gareth managed to breathe, managed to nod, managed to say, “Yes.” And then he said, “Pinch them.”

Her eyebrows quirked upward, but she did as he asked.

Pleasure jolted through him. Breath hissed between his teeth. His cock began to stiffen.

Cecily smiled. “You do like it.” She pinched again.

Gareth bit back a gasp. “Nightgown,” he said. “Please take it off.”

Cecily released his nipples and obeyed. The movement of her body on his lap while she pulled off the nightgown was deliciously arousing, and the sight of her breasts once she was naked was even more so. God, she was beautiful. Her slender curves, her pale skin, those high, round breasts. And that tantalizing thatch of golden hair, where his cock was still buried inside her.

Cecily’s eyes met his. “You’re ready again,” she whispered. She rocked slightly on him and he shuddered, and so did she.

“Almost,” Gareth said, and his voice sounded like someone else’s, low and husky. “Let’s not rush. Let’s . . . draw it out.” He cupped one of her breasts in his hand and caressed it lightly.

Cecily shivered, and reached for his nipples. “Like this?” She took them between thumb and finger again, and pinched.

His body gave a little jolt. “Exactly like that.”





Chapter Seven





Riding St. George was even better the second time than the first.

Cecy didn’t want to climb off Gareth afterwards. It felt marvelous to have his organ inside her, both of them warm, relaxed, sated.

When she’d caught her breath she drew back slightly, resting her forearms on his shoulders, and smiled at him. Her husband. This marvelous man she’d married.

Her gaze was drawn to his shoulder, his arm, that neat, white bandage. Cecy trailed her fingers along his collarbone, halted at his shoulder, and asked, very quietly, “How did it happen?”

Gareth didn’t tense, but he did seem to stop breathing.

“Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.”

After a moment, Gareth said haltingly. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, it’s that . . . I never have. No one’s wanted to know.”

“I want to know,” Cecy whispered. “If you can bear to tell me.” She stroked his collarbone soothingly. “But only if you want to.”

Gareth was silent for almost a minute, and then he said, “It was after the first charge. I don’t remember much, but I know we were reforming the line, and that Toby and Ned were both missing, and . . .” He took a shallow breath. “I don’t know quite what happened. Something hit me, grapeshot or a musket ball or something. Knocked me off my horse. And there was all this blood, I remember that, but . . . the surgeon said that my arm was shredded, and I don’t remember that. I think I must have hit my head when I fell off my horse.” He was silent for a moment, and then said, “The surgeon took it off, right there on the battlefield. I don’t remember that, either. I don’t remember anything else until I woke up the next day with only one arm.”

His voice caught on those last words. His breath hitched in his throat. He lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes.

Cecy gathered him in her arms. After a moment his breath steadied again. His arm came around her. “I was lucky it happened when it did. If I’d fallen in the middle of a charge, like Toby and Ned, I would have bled to death before anyone found me.”

“Ned? You mean Edward Kane?”

“Yes.”

Cecily remembered the man as she’d last seen him, the terrible scars on his face, the missing fingers. “How would you describe his character?”

“Ned? He’s one of the best men that ever lived. Stayed with me in Brussels until I was able to travel.” Gareth stroked her hip. “I caught a fever, you see. Couldn’t get out of my bed for months.”

He’d had a fever for months? No wonder there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.