In Bed With A Stranger(54)

“Best ye ken, lass. I will never send ye back to yer father.”

There was a hard edge to his voice. Fierce possession that somehow made her feel cherished. He picked her up, sweeping her up against his chest as if she were no more than a child.

“Ye’re mine and I dinnae care if I have to remind ye of that over and over.”

He carried her into an empty stall. There was new hay on the ground, smelling clean and fresh. Brodick knelt, lowering her to the floor as he followed her. The hay got caught in her hair as he pressed her back onto it, his lips finding hers and taking them in another long kiss. The tip of his tongue stroked over her lower lip before thrusting into her mouth to tease her tongue.

“Since ye were a maiden, ye’ve never been tumbled in the hay afore.” He rose above her on his elbows, a shadowy figure. “I feel the need to introduce ye to trysting.”

“A tryst is between lovers.” But it made her breathless. Excitement made her voice sultry.

“And ye nae think a husband might serve as a lover?” His fingers found the buttons of her doublet, working them loose. “I assure ye I’m up to the task.”

She suddenly felt bold. Reaching down, she found the bulge of his cock. A harsh breath was his response as she stroked it through the pleats of his kilt.

“A statement that I must insist you prove.”

She pushed at his wide shoulders, unsure if he would allow her to lead him. The night didn’t let her see his expression. She pushed harder, lifting her own shoulders up. He dropped back as she sat up.

“I’ve heard a few tales of trysts and lovers’ ways.”

“I insist that ye confess every one of them to me.”

With one hand, she loosened the button at his collar. She stroked her fingers down the center of his chest, easing between the edges of his open shirt.

“The church does command that a wife obey her husband.” She stopped with her hand beneath his shirt, the crisp hair on his chest holding her attention.

“It does indeed.”

His words were clipped. It was very arousing the way he laid so still when she knew he was much stronger than she. A fragile trust threaded its way between them, unleashing her curiosity.

“I heard that there is more than one type of kiss. A meeting of lips and male flesh that the French ladies use to beguile their lovers.”

“Who told ye about that?”

She shrugged, trailing her fingers over his belt. There was no way to tell him that the servants knew absolutely everything in a large estate. When important nobles had visited Warwickshire, the nightly escapades provided many evenings of entertainment for the gossips. Just because she was a maiden did not mean she hadn’t heard exactly how men and women coupled. She stopped over his cock, her hand resting on top of the hard bulge.

“I suppose I could put it out of my mind…”

A hard hand gripped her hair. He wound her thick braid around his hand. The hold drew her against his chest.

“Lift my kilt and try it, lass. I dare ye.”

She stroked her fingers to the edge of his kilt, fingering the fabric. “Does that mean you’re not afraid I might bewitch you? I hear many Puritans believe pleasure of the flesh to be the work of demons leading us sinners to eternal damnation.”

He pressed her back against the hay. She gasped at the speed with which he rose up. There was a great deal of power in his body. It should have frightened her but she trusted him. That was often the difference between a lover and a husband. The lover you shared your body with. A husband you prayed might not be too much to bear.

“I suppose I’ll just have to beguile ye first.”

He pulled her skirts up, the night air bushing her thighs, making her shiver. But it wasn’t with cold. Her heart raced, making her skin warm.

“Now, about that spreading yer thighs bit you mentioned earlier…I’ve a mind to sample that bit of wifely service.”

Her breath caught. Brodick chuckled as he stroked one thigh. “There’s something that we are going to have to practice, lass. Talking.”

“One does not talk about intimacies.”

He touched her slit. A single stroke that sent pleasure up along her passage. His fingertips remained touching her clitoris, rubbing a slow circle over the top of it. The urge to lift her hips took great amounts of self discipline to quell. She was struck dumb by how good that touch felt. It didn’t seem possible that any single part of her body could feel so much pleasure.

“Then how did ye learn about French kissing?”

She blushed in the dark. “That was talk shared between women.”

“Yet it was about sucking a man’s cock between yer lips. Did ye just overhear or were ye asking for advice on how to handle me?”