A shard of anticipation snarled through her. Because she knew what was coming. She was in a position for the one thing she wanted more than her next breath.
She was positioned for his cock.
He did not make her wait any longer.
He thrust in, a hard, hot invader, taking her, possessing her, completing her.
Her body seized. “I must… I need…”
“Ah. Kaitlin.”
She whimpered as pleasure scored her. She was no longer Fiona. She was Kaitlin and he was Edward and he was in her and it was bliss.
“Yes, darling. Yes, my love.” He pounded into her again and again, each plunge more feral than the last. “Come for me.”
It was all she needed.
Her control slipped its leash and she exploded around him, clasping him and riding him and drawing him into her insanity. She hissed and growled and then whimpered as she came, uncontrollably tightening the path through which he forged.
His cock swelled and she came again as his rigid length battered that tender bundle of nerves deep in her fortress, scuttling her reason, her thoughts, her wits until there was nothing left, nothing left but sensation and passion and absolute adoration.
God yes. As he bathed her with his seed, she was flooded with an undeniable knowledge, the burning, scalding truth.
She loved him.
Edward Wyeth, the Dark Duke.
She loved him with all her heart and soul.
And she would until the day she died.
Chapter Thirteen
From then on, they worked at home, in the third floor study of his mansion. It was much more convenient and a lot less distracting. Though Edward did allow himself to be distracted with satisfying frequency.
They were a good team, he and Kaitlin, sharing ideas and inspiring each other and disagreeing regularly. She was fast, and because she was there, his little ginger muse, he was fast as well.
They finished Brigand in three days, though once she’d read it, she made him change the title to Ravaged, which she insisted was far more gripping. They moved on to A Midsummer Night’s Tempest, a lurid play on Shakespeare’s work, because she enjoyed the bard and she really liked drawing fairies. And then, because she insisted, they started The Pirate’s Booty.
His writing was better with her around. So much steamier. And easier.
And he wasn’t all alone anymore.
He liked it very much.
The staff liked it very much as well. Because he sent them on holiday, all but a skeleton crew to keep them fed—and Transom, who refused to leave.
He enjoyed having Kaitlin all to himself.
Their idyll was shattered when, one day three weeks after he’d left, Ned returned. He was exhausted and pale—for he had ridden from Scotland on horseback, stopping only when he was ready to drop.
Thank heaven Edward and Kaitlin were hard at work in the study when he arrived, and not engaged in some other pursuit. He burst in on them with Transom on his heels.
“Your Grace! It’s a disaster! You must come to Scotland at once!” the boy gasped.
Transom threaded his fingers. “I did try to stop him, Your Grace.”
Edward nodded to his butler and led Ned to the wingchair and made him sit, then poured him a brandy. Ned refused it with a shake of his head, but Edward insisted. The boy was trembling.
“What is it, Ned? What’s happened?” Kaitlin asked after he’d had a sip and caught his breath.
“It’s Violet. She’s been kidnapped!”
A hard ball formed in Edward’s gut. Violet was a sweet, gentle soul. Visions of her in the hands of evil men flickered through his mind, making him feel ill.
Kaitlin went pale. She wobbled a little. Sat with a plop in the companion chair.
“She was taken by Callum MacAllister.” Ned flicked a look at Kaitlin. She paled even more. Pressed her lips together. “He told Aunt Hortense if Kaitlin didn’t come home, we would never see Violet alive again.”
Kaitlin gasped. “He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Your Grace, you must come at once.”
“Of course. Transom? Transom!” he bellowed.
“Your Grace?” Transom said from his elbow, making him start. Oh yes. He’d come in the room with Ned, hadn’t he?
“Ready my coach.”
“At once, Your Grace.”
“I’m coming with you,” Kaitlin said.
“No you’re not.” He kissed her brow, ignoring the fact that Ned watched his every move with a prickly look on his face. Ned could find his own muse.
“I must go.”
Edward shot her a look. “I thought you couldn’t return to Scotland?”
“That doesn’t matter now. I know why Callum took her. And I know who has her.”
Confusion coiled through him. How could she? How could she possibly know? “Who? Who has her?”