She sat in the corner facing him, her back against the side of the carriage. The small lantern inside the coach gave off a dim light, and she could see those amber eyes glowing with fervor as he quietly observed her. His fingers softly kneaded her leg from ankle to knee, warming her pleasantly. Shanna’s lips curved almost into a smile as she sighed, and as if settling herself like a contented feline, she stirred against the seat. Her cloak sagged open to her waist, but she seemed unaware of it as she gathered her arms beneath her bosom, pressing her breasts upward until she was nearly out of the torn gown and thin chemise. In truth, she did not know how her pale skin gleamed with a satin luster in the light of the single candle, nor could she truly guess the extent of Ruark’s passion. She only saw that his eyes roamed downward and felt a tightening of his belly against her leg and the pulse in his thigh quicken beneath her foot.
The softening of her manner enhanced her beauty, and Ruark boldly and appreciatively stared. When he spoke, his voice did not betray the tightness in his throat.
“You are warmer, madam?”
“Aye,” Shanna breathed, half closing her eyes as she leaned her head back, letting him view the slender, curving length of her throat. Any moment now he would tell her how he desired her and try to cajole her into giving herself, and she would lead him on until the time they had to part. Through slitted eyelids she watched him and was pricked with disappointment as he appeared to shrug away her spell. Casually he reached into his coat and brought forth the scarlet-bound papers.
“These are the marriage documents,” Ruark informed her as he turned them in his hand. “You will need them to prove that we are wed.”
Shanna sat up a bit and would have reached to accept them, but he took them beyond her grasp.
“Ah, madam,” he laughed, “the price has not yet been paid.”
With something akin to horror in her eyes, Shanna stared at him. Would he threaten to destroy them if she did not yield? If they were thrown onto the well-washed road outside, they would be rendered useless.
“Ruark?” she asked wonderingly and withdrew her feet from him, tucking them beneath her. “Would you—”
“Oh nay, madam. That bargain is well made and sealed.” His eyes raked her boldly, and Shanna braced herself for the worst. He smiled slowly. “And I would not question your intent or honor. But this is a new one. I would extract from you—” he paused and tapped the papers against his chin, gazing thoughtfully at the lantern—“a kiss,” he said suddenly, decisively. “A loving kiss of a wife as bestowed upon her newly vowed husband. Is the price too steep, madam?”
He raised his brows in mocking question. With some relief Shanna gathered herself, drawing the cloak against his wandering eyes, irritated that her knees kept slipping down to rest against his thigh.
“Very well,” she sighed as if most reluctant. “If you insist. I am too frail to battle you for them.” She bent forward slightly. “At your pleasure, sir. I am ready.”
She closed her eyes to wait, and his low laughter made her fling them open again. He had not moved. In fact, as she stared, he casually doffed his coat and opened his waistcoat before leaning back in his corner of the seat.
“Madam,” his smile taunted her, “the bargain was that you should give the kiss. Do you need assistance or instruction?”
Shanna bristled beneath his gibe and glared at him. Did he think her to be some simple serving maid not to see his ploy? She rose upon her knees, determined to set him back upon his heels. She would give him a kiss worthy to be taken to his grave!
Coyly she reached out to place her arms on his shoulders. Again his gaze crept downward where she wanted it. She would make him cringe in utter frustration before this was over. Her fingers lightly caressed the back of his neck as she moved nearer. Then suddenly he raised his head, and his eyes met hers, his brow gathered in concern.
“Try to make it good,” he admonished. “I realize your experience may be lacking, but a wife-to-husband kiss should be a thing to warm the pride and not a peck of shame.”
For a moment Shanna went rigid with the fury his words stirred in her, and she almost raked both hands across that leering face. Seeing his amused regard, she hissed, “Think you that I have never kissed a man before?”
His eyebrows went upward in a tiny shrug. “In truth, Shanna,” he rubbed his neck against her hands, “I was wondering about that. A childish peck upon the cheek could only be from a fatherly tutor.”
Deliberately Shanna leaned forward until her breasts rested on his chest; and seizing upon all her imagination, she lowered parted lips and moved them slowly, warmly upon his. Her eyes flew wide as his mouth opened and twisted across hers, his tongue thrusting through as his arms went about her, crushing her in his embrace. Her world careened crazily as he slowly turned until she half lay across his lap, her head pressed back against his shoulder. His mouth was insistent, demanding, relentless, snatching her breath as well as her poise. She was caught up in the heat of a battle she could not hope to win. Her broadside was spiked, her weapons dulled, her wits fled. She should have found his blistering kiss repulsive, but in truth it was wildly exciting. The hard, muscular chest, warm through the cloth of his shirt, tightened against her meagerly clad breasts; and she was aware of the heavy thudding of his heart while her own throbbed a new frantic rhythm.