“Such as?”
“Well, did it ever occur to you that I might feel a bit insecure because you’re prettier than me?”
Joshua moved his hand from her waist to push the stray wisp of hair from her cheek. He bent low and tenderly kissed the spot he had just cleared. “Thanks for the character assassination. Naturally I’m too shallow a man to love you for your inner beauty. I happen to think your outer beauty is damn hot, too, but I don’t suppose you want to hear that right now.”
“Mmm, you suppose wrong, Mr. Barton.” Eleanor ran her hands over the solid muscles of his upper arms, still trying to comprehend that this beautiful, physically perfect man was hers. All hers. “I think honesty is essential in a relationship.”
“Absolutely,” Joshua mumbled, nibbling on the sensitive lobe of her ear. “I expect you to be honest with me. As I will be with you.”
“Right.” Eleanor paused for a moment in confusion. The touch of his lips was spreading that lush, fiery feeling way down to the pit of her stomach. For a moment, she completely lost her train of thought and forgot what she wanted to say. “Oh, and by the way, all your money makes me a little nervous.”
“Get used to it.” Joshua didn’t even lift his head, but continued kissing and nibbling her neck. His mouth felt warm and rough against her skin. “I’m not giving it away.”
Eleanor pulled back sharply, breathing heavy. “Did I say that I wanted you to? You jump to conclusions much too quickly.”
With a sigh of frustration, he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Okay, I’m too rich and I jump to conclusions. Anything else wrong?”
Eleanor did some fast considering. She cocked her head coyly to one side, then laughed from sheer happiness. “One last thing,” she said, molding herself softly against his hard body. “You talk too much.”
And then she kissed him again, with all the love and intensity that was no longer trapped within her soul.
Epilogue
Six months later
Buried contentedly amid a tumble of silken sheets, Eleanor Graham Barton sighed languidly and drew closer to the muscular male body stretched beside her on the large bed. She felt like she was floating somewhere up in the clouds, awash on a sea of love and intimacy.
The distant sound of lapping ocean waves invaded her mind and she felt the soft kiss of a warm sea breeze against her uncovered back. They had left the windows wide open last night. Or was that yesterday afternoon? Eleanor took a deep breath and tried to clear the fog from her brain.
Time had ceased to have any real meaning. The mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights had all run together in her mind, creating one giant sensual memory.
She inched closer to her handsome husband, entwining their fingers. Joshua, sprawled on his stomach and snoring softly, instinctively squeezed her hand despite his deep slumber.
She pulled her hand away, but the movement didn’t interrupt Joshua’s even breathing. She nuzzled his forearm, rubbing the tip of her nose back and forth over the solid muscle. But he continued sleeping. And snoring.
Eleanor smiled. Clearly, she had worn him out. Correction, they had worn each other out. This fabulous wedding trip was turning out to be a test of endurance for both of them. No winner had yet emerged, but she entertained grand hopes of victory.
She giggled out loud and rolled onto her back, hugging herself tightly about the waist. Just think, I have an entire lifetime of this to look forward to.
Propping herself up on her elbow, Eleanor studied her husband’s sleeping form. He was as beautiful as ever. His face was turned toward the opposite wall, so she admired the shape of his head and his gorgeous dark, thick hair. She traced a sensual line down the middle of Joshua’s back, then curled her arms around his shoulder blades and kissed the nape of his neck. He stirred and opened one eyelid, but promptly closed it again. Eleanor gave him a playful slap on the butt.
“Time to get up, mister. They have a rule at this swanky hotel. If they don’t see their guests at least once every forty-eight hours, they send up a security team to check on them to make sure they’re breathing.”
Joshua turned his head toward her, but his eyes remained closed and burrowed in the soft pillow. “I, or rather we, own the controlling interest in this place. Any security personnel that cross our threshold will be instantly dismissed.”
Eleanor knew he was joking about firing anyone, yet a jolt of surprise raced through her. She had no idea he, or rather they, owned part of this very exclusive, very expensive resort. That usual moment of panic hit, but thankfully faded quickly. Realizing how far their wealth extended still had the power to quicken her pulse with fear, yet the reactions were getting milder and were vanishing sooner.
She was gradually starting to get used to the money and all its trappings. She was also honest enough with herself and Joshua to know that it wouldn’t be an easy adjustment, but at least it wasn’t a major difficulty any longer.
“Joshua, please.” She glanced over at the ultramodern clock on the wall, then pressed her face close to his, their noses touching. “I’m starting to feel like a vampire. We never venture beyond these doors in the daylight. We’ve been here for five days already and the only time that we even left the room was for dinner in the lovely restaurant on our second night. Or was that our third night?”
“Third.” His voice was gruff with amusement. “We came here to rest, Eleanor. And that’s just what I’m doing. Resting.”
She pulled back and gave him a disapproving stare. Resting. Hardly. More like passing out from exhaustion between bouts of mind-bending lovemaking. This was the ideal honeymoon spot, private, secluded, and tropical. Everything they needed to afford them the chance to reconnect after the frantic weeks leading up to their wedding.
And what a glorious wedding it had been! Exactly the type of wedding that Eleanor had always dreamed of—small, intimate, and wildly romantic. Yet despite the much-appreciated assistance of her mother and Rosemary, it had left Eleanor and Joshua physically and emotionally drained.
This time together following the beautiful marriage ceremony was wonderful, precious really, but they couldn’t spend the entire fourteen days in bed. Could they?
A large, warm hand snaked through the covers, came up, and possessively covered her breast. Eleanor sighed with resigned pleasure. Apparently Joshua believed they could.
Her eyes drifted down to his waist. The sheet barely covered his arousal. Gracious, the man was insatiable. Yet it gave her female ego a huge boost, knowing it took so little to make him instantly ready for her.
He started stroking her breasts, then reached between her legs. She slid closer, bent her head, and plunged her tongue into his mouth. A deep, sexy growl rumbled in his chest. She could feel his hardness pressing insistently against her hip.
“I want you,” he murmured against her mouth.
His words brought joy to her heart. To be wanted by this man was all she had ever desired and now, now they had a lifetime together to savor that passion. To nurture and grow with it.
Eleanor gave him a fierce squeeze, then rolled out of his reach.
“Hey, get back here.”
“No.” Eleanor scrambled quickly across the bed. Joshua was tangled in the silk sheets, unable to move fast enough to catch her. She reached for the first garment she could find, a lush terry cloth robe with the hotel’s insignia embroidered on the breast pocket. After shrugging into it, she wrapped the belt twice around her waist and tied it securely. “If I climb back in that bed, then we’ll never get out of it. Or out of this room.”
Joshua looked mildly affronted. “Complaints already, Mrs. Barton?”
She pursed her lips and tried to look serious. “We have been on this glorious island for five full days and haven’t once gotten to the beach. Or the pool. I am going to be thoroughly embarrassed returning to the library after my two-week honeymoon in the Caribbean without a tan. At this rate I’ll return paler than before I left.”
Joshua cocked a lazy eyebro
w. “You could tell everyone it was raining.”
“Joshua.”
“How about a sunlamp? I’ll have one installed on the jet. You can relax in a comfortable chair and bake in front of it on the flight home.”
Eleanor cleared her throat. Wild memories of their energetic lovemaking on the private plane ride down to the island made her blush. They had practically attacked each other the moment the pilot had signaled it was safe to move about the cabin.
“I ... ummm ... want natural sunlight,” she mumbled.
A frown creased his forehead, but his grin was so sexy she knew he was remembering that airplane ride, too. “You’re right. We might not want to make any definite plans for our return flight that would interfere with our pleasure.”
“Joshua!” she blushed hotly.
“I love you, Eleanor.”
Her throat closed up and tears filled her eyes. No matter how often Joshua said it—and he had been saying it quite often these past six months—she never got tired of hearing it.
Smiling through her tears, she returned to the bed. “I love you, too,” she whispered, touching his cheek.
He pulled back the covers and patted the mattress. “Come back to bed.” He reached out and grabbed her waist, then slid both palms over her curves until one rested on each hip. “I’m lonely without you.”
“Oh, Joshua.” Eleanor felt her resolve melting, yet she knew the moment she lay upon those silken sheets she wouldn’t be leaving the room. Again. “Why don’t we take a nice stroll on the beach? Or how about a swim?” She lowered her voice to an alluring whisper as inspiration struck. “I can see the ocean from our window. The waves look great. We could try body surfing. Who knows where that might lead.”
“Body surfing?” His hand stilled, then his head lifted. “Will you take off your bathing suit?”
Eleanor bit her lip. Oh dear, now what had she started? “If there’s a private beach,” she finally conceded.
Joshua jackknifed out of bed with admirable athleticism. “I know just the spot. The perfect spot.”
Naked, he padded over to the closet. “I know I packed a bathing suit.” He rambled about the room, opening drawers, rifling through neat piles of clothing.
Eleanor quickly grabbed her suit and matching cover-up and headed toward the bathroom.
“I’m ready,” she called out gaily a few minutes later.
“Wait a second.” Joshua narrowed his eyes. He was still naked, but his swimming trunks dangled from the closed fist that rested against his hip. “The last time we went body surfing in North Carolina you teased me mercilessly with that sexy body of yours. And the water was too darn cold for me to do a thing about it.”
“Oh, darling.” She moved forward and embraced him possessively, luxuriating in the feel of his warm chest. “The ocean temperature down here is warm. Nearly eighty degrees. Why else do you think I insisted we come to the Caribbean for our honeymoon?”
She’s his in every way . . .
When newly widowed Lady Fiona Libourg flees to Scotland in need of protection, Lord Gavin McLendon is powerless to refuse the British beauty. Especially when she offers herself in exchange. Now the brooding Scottish warrior can think of nothing else but ravishing his delectable new mistress, even though he’s dutybound to marry another . . .
But one . . .
Fiona is shocked when Gavin accepts her scandalous offer—and fretful at the thought that he will discover how little she knows of seduction. But when Gavin proves to be a skilled and achingly sensuous teacher, Fiona doesn’t want their passionate arrangement to end. Now she can’t help but wonder just what it would take to go from Scottish mistress . . . to Scottish wife.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Adrienne Basso’s
HOW TO BE A SCOTTISH MISTRESS,
now on sale!
One
Northern England, June 1306
“We’ll have rain by nightfall, I fear,” Lord Henry Libourg, Baron of Arundel, declared solemnly as he slowed his horse’s canter, drawing closer to his wife so as to be heard above the pounding hooves. “’Tis bound to make a mud pit in the middle of the bailey, but the newly sowed crops will benefit.”
“Rain? Are you daft, my lord?” Lady Fiona matched her mare’s pace to that of her husband’s war stead, then eyed him with healthy skepticism. “There is nary a cloud in the sky to mar the perfection of sunshine.”
“Rain it will be, my lady,” Henry insisted with authority. “I feel it in my bones.”
He slapped his gloved hand deliberately against his thigh, then grimaced. Fiona turned her face upward toward the bright sunshine, shaking her head. It was moments such as this when the nearly twenty-five-year age difference between her and her spouse became glaringly apparent. Only an old man spoke of his joints aching when rain or snow approached.
The unkind thought had no sooner entered her head when Fiona silenced it. Henry was a good husband—dear to her in many ways. She had been sent to his manor as a young girl of twelve, to serve his wife and learn the duties of a proper lady. When that good woman had died in childbirth five years later, Henry had surprised Fiona by asking her to be his wife and mother to his infant son.
Born to a family of minor nobility that took little stock in the welfare of its female members, Fiona had been relieved when her father agreed to the match. Relieved and grateful, for it allowed her to stay at the first place she had truly considered home.
She knew others could not understand why she would eagerly wed a man of modest means and position so much older than herself, but as the Baroness of Arundel, Fiona had found a purpose that filled her with confidence and self-worth. Though affectionate, she had come to accept that hers was not, nor would it ever be, a marriage of passion. Yet Fiona loved Henry truly, in a way that stretched far beyond a sense of duty.
All in all, it was a good life.
Fiona turned her gaze away from the sunlight twinkling through the leaves and gazed out at the trees surrounding them. Summer had finally arrived, but a thick layer of dead brown leaves carpeted much of the forest floor, mingling with the green of the smaller bushes and ferns.
“Oh, look, Henry, ’tis a cluster of blooming feverfew,” Fiona exclaimed. “Please, may we stop so I can gather some? Two of the kitchen lads have broken out in a fierce rash. They are suffering mightily and treating them with my usual ointments has proven useless. I am certain the addition of feverfew will make all the difference.”
Filled with excitement, Fiona tugged on her reins with a short, sharp motion. Her horse protested, rearing in response.
“Careful now, you don’t want to take a tumble on this hard ground,” Henry admonished. With impressive skill, the baron reached out a strong arm to ensure his wife kept her seat.
Fiona cast him a grateful smile, tightening her thighs around her mount instinctively. She was a competent, though not especially skilled, horsewoman. Fortunately, Henry was near to keep her safe.
Once her horse was calm, the baron peered over at the soft, white petal flowers she pointed toward, his expression perplexed. “Feverfew? Are you certain? They look like ordinary daisies to me.”
Fiona smiled. Henry was a man of solid intelligence as well as experience, but medicinal herbs and flowers were completely foreign to him. “With their yellow centers and white petals, I’ll allow there is a strong resemblance, but you must trust me, sir, when I tell you those are not daisies.”
“I trust you, Fiona. I’m just not certain ’tis wise to delay our return home. We have been gone for most of the afternoon and there are duties that await us both. If I can spare the men, you may return tomorrow to collect your flowers.”
“They are not merely flowers, Henry, they are medicine. And truly, the need is so great that I fear tomorrow might be too long to wait. The sooner I try a new treatment, the sooner the lads will be healed.”
Henry made a soft sound of resignation beneath his breath. “God’s bones, Fiona, I think
you are the only woman in all of England who would make such a fuss over kitchen lads.”
Graceful in victory, Fiona smiled sweetly. “You are the one who taught me to care so diligently for our people, good sir. Now come, there looks to be enough to fill my saddle pouch as well as yours.”
The baron slid off his horse, then caught his wife around the waist when she began to dismount from hers. Their eyes met briefly as he set her gently on the ground. Impulsively, Fiona leaned forward and playfully kissed the tip of Henry’s nose.
“Impudent baggage,” Henry bristled in mock annoyance.
A deep chuckle bubbled through Fiona and she laughed merrily. The sound echoed through the forest, startling a flock of black birds from the branches of a nearby tree.
“Wait here,” Henry commanded, handing her the leads of both horses.
Fiona nodded in understanding, waiting patiently. Even though they rode on their own land, it was wise to be cautious, especially in these uncertain times.
She watched the baron make slow progress toward the clusters of feverfew, his shrewd gaze darting back and forth. Bored at being stopped on the journey, the horses ambled a few steps and lowered their heads to drink from a large puddle at the edge of the forest. Fiona allowed it, securing their leather leads to a tree trunk. She then turned back to Henry, anxious to begin her harvest.
At last, he gave the signal and she scampered forward, glad she was dressed in her new pair of leather boots. The ground was moist and springy, her feet sinking nearly to the ankles in some spots.
“I don’t suppose I can ask you to hurry,” Henry muttered, as she strode past him to reach the first large bunch.
“I shall try my best,” Fiona replied. “But doing a proper job of harvesting takes time.”
Though his expression was wry, Fiona heard the twinge of pride in her husband’s voice. She had never shied away from hard work and took a marked interest in all who lived at the manor, be they peasant, servant or knight. And it was no secret she was well loved for her dedication.
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