If You Dare mb-1

by Kresley Cole

  So instead of removing it, he held the cool cloth against her, thinking that it might soothe her. When he went to take it away, she softly grasped his wrist and held him there. Her breathing was deepening, and when her hand slipped to her side, he barely heard her whisper, "Thank you."

  She trusted him.

  She'd trusted him with her safety and her life and now her innocence.

  He hoped she'd made a good decision.

  With her asleep once more, he lifted her as he removed the bottom sheet, then placed her on the top one. He balled up the stained linen and tossed it in the corner, planning to wake before her and get rid of it. When he joined her, she curled into him, her body warm and soft. He brought her to his chest and probably held her too hard again.

  Sleeping with her was a luxury he'd never thought to enjoy again. To be able to touch her and smell her hair whenever he pleased… To have her body wrap around him and to feel her breaths on his chest. Could his luck ever run this high? To have her accept his childless fate as her own. A short, amazed laugh. Not childless—just playing out a little differently than he'd expected.

  She was his. And he was going to overcome any obstacle that might keep her from staying that way.

  When Hugh returned, he would ask his advice on weaponry to kill the Rechazados to a man. Court had already sent word to his crew, ready to get this finished, and expected they would receive it soon.

  Then he would have to take care of Anna's brother when he arrived. Llorente wouldn't have wanted a man like him marrying Anna—even before Court had fought him and delivered him to a despot. That would have to be worked out, which would be difficult because Court didn't have a lot of experience with working things out. But he would attempt it for her.

  And then the task he dreaded—telling Anna that he hadn't been completely honest about her brother. He'd said he hadn't attacked Llorente, which was true, but they had fought. Would she believe that putting him in jail had saved his life?

  Her hand trailed down his arm, and when she murmured his name, he pulled her closer to him with the inside of his elbow and kissed her forehead. Yes, she would believe him, and yes, Court would kill anyone who threatened her, and if Llorente didn't accept the situation, then yes, he'd bloody lose a sister.

  Right now, even the curse felt beatable. The rest were mere…complications.

  She was his.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  A nnalía slept through the entire night and woke to find Court's big warm body all along her back, an arm flung possessively around her waist. And she was sore in the most unique places. She turned to him, burrowing down closer to his chest, and slept again.

  When she woke once more it was nearly noon, and he was gone. She sat up, rubbing her eyes groggily, then looked down at herself and scanned the sheet. No blood. Hadn't he made sure there wouldn't be? Her Scot was proving to be very considerate.

  She called for a bath, and as she'd hoped, the warm water soothed her aches. But while she sat in the steaming water, she thought of the one dilemma she'd neglected to settle with MacCarrick. His answer would've been the only thing that could've kept her from proceeding.

  They'd spoken about children and had settled that easily enough. He'd brought up the subject of wealth. It was probably good that he didn't want her fortune because Aleix would never approve the marriage and release the funds. Living in Scotland? She'd live on the moon with him.

  There was only one thing she could never, ever tolerate….

  She took extra care with her dress and her hair, then descended, wondering if seeing him this morning would be awkward. When she saw him downstairs, he took one look at her and then glanced away.

  Her lips parted and in that split second she had the urge to cry.

  She only realized he was scanning the room for others when he stormed up to her. He cupped his hand behind her head and pressed her hard against the wall, kissing her neck with a groan. "You took too long to come down."

  Better! "Why didn't you stay with me?"

  "Because I woke up wantin' you more than I did before I bedded you. And even if I could have managed to let you leave the bed, I feared you'd be embarrassed."

  "I was a little." She felt herself blushing. "When you…cared for me."

  "I dinna know what to do." He raised his hand to the wall above her. "I only wanted to make you feel better."

  She again thought she might cry. He took a curl of her hair in his other hand and coaxed it around his finger. Had it come loose? She hadn't even noticed.

  He was acting as if he were seeing her for the first time. She understood. With him around her like this, she delighted in his size, loving his broad shoulders and deep chest. His shirt was white and crisp against his sun-darkened face and his expression was intent. She'd never seen a more handsome man. And he was hers.

  She frowned. Was he hers?

  "Anna, I'm as new at this as you are."

  "You've never taken a girl's virtue before?"

  "Christ, no, I have no' done that."

  "Truly?" In a way she'd been his first as well. "Why did you start with me?"

  "Because you tempt me till I canna think." He put his face to her neck. "You smell so damn good."

  Her eyes slid closed. His lips on her neck…No! She had to know. "Is it something you would want to do again?" she asked, attempting a casual tone.

  He reared back and shook his head emphatically. "No, even were it possible to go back."

  "I meant with another woman."

  He grew serious. "No. Never." His eyes narrowed. "Do you regret what we've done?"

  She felt him tensing around her. This would be difficult for her to say, especially since he'd made his wants clear before.

  "There will no' be another man for you." His voice was harsh, startling her. "You're mine now, Anna," he growled as he wrapped her hair around his fist. "Look at me."

  She did, shocked speechless by how quickly his anger had flared. Whatever he saw in her expression made the lines around his eyes whiten. "What exactly is it that you'd be wantin' for yourself?" His tone was seething.

  She took a shaky breath and said, "Y-You said you wanted your harem, that you didn't want only one woman. I-I know this isn't the way of the world and it was ingrained in me never to expect it, but I…I want you to be mine too." How embarrassing. She felt unsophisticated, ignoring what she'd been instructed was normal and anticipated from the first day she'd ever heard of marriage.

  She'd been told that a woman's misconception on this matter was what ruined marriages and made women bitter. But on the opposite side of the coin, she'd seen the devastation her mother's adultery had caused—why would Annalía think she would hold up better than her father had?

  She could sense emotion roiling in him. "What do you mean?" At least his voice was no longer an angry rasp.

  It occurred to her that she hadn't done any of this as she'd been taught, not making love, definitely not choosing a "suitable" mate. If she started now, the pattern would be interrupted and she rather liked where it'd taken her so far. She put her chin up. "I won't share you. If I'm to be loyal and faithful, I-I want the same!"

  His jaw was slack. It was unreasonable, she knew, but the thought of him with another woman…She hadn't been able to tolerate it before she'd made him hers. "You distinctly warned me—"

  "When?"

  "The night on the coast."

  He flashed a look of realization.

  "Why have one when you can have many, you said, but the thought of you with another…" She trailed off.

  "Finish what you were telling me."

  She looked away again, her eyes watering. "I just couldn't bear it."

  He put his fingers under her chin and turned her face. He wore some new expression, just as powerful, but unseen before. He kissed her fiercely.

  But he was avoiding her question. She broke away and gazed up at him with all the hurt she felt.

  "Anna, last night I made you mine because I want you above
all others." He brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek, then put his forehead to hers. "It will always be so. I dinna hope you would feel as strongly."

  Over the next two weeks, when she was in the library or reading in the salon during the day, MacCarrick would come to her with his brows drawn and his body tense and hold out his hand to her.

  No words and no need for them. The look in his dark eyes told her all. When she took his hand—she never failed to take his hand and would as long as it was offered to her—he would always mask a flash of surprise a second too late. Then as he led her to their bed, she sensed this masculine pride in him even as her heart sped up in anticipation.

  Her Scot was attentive to her and thoughtful, sending out for her favorite foods and finding her books—though she was mortified at first when he'd secured several of the gothic novels she loved.

  Each night, after or between the times they made love, they would share a book together in bed, sometimes with her reading the novels to him, her head in his lap as he caressed her hair. Though whenever she gripped the book, nervous as the heroine investigated a dark cellar, he never failed to startle and tickle her.

  At other times, MacCarrick would read her bawdy poems, making his brogue thick and rolling, until her eyes watered and her stomach hurt, she laughed so hard. Of course, she'd had to learn a new set of vocabulary to be truly appreciative.

  One day, he'd sensed something was weighing on her, and she'd finally confessed how much she missed riding. He'd given her a wicked grin and taught her a completely different meaning of bareback. That wasn't all he taught her. If she'd thought her fingers could work his flesh, she'd never imagined what her lips could do once she convinced him how badly she wanted to kiss him.

  Then this morning in bed, she'd stretched, and as usual he'd said, "Mind the arm, lass."

  But she'd replied, "I swear you care about it more than I do."

  "I like to watch you stretch. Woman, I love to watch you stretch, but you have to be careful till it's completely healed."

  "Will the scar make me less attractive in your eyes?"

  "An impossibility, Anna," he'd said, nipping her neck. Then he'd turned serious. "Every time I look at it I'll remember how close I came to…" He'd coughed into his fist. "How close it was. Mo cridhe, we are fortunate."

  They were fortunate to be together. Yet during this time he never mentioned marriage, and she followed his lead. There was no talk about the future. And each day that passed brought her closer to the day her brother would arrive. She'd had the brief hope that MacCarrick was waiting so he could ask Aleix for her hand. But that was an absurd idea.

  He'd never ask for her. A man wouldn't ask for something that he'd already claimed.

  So they went on in this state without a promise from him. She thought that once she had it, she might have the nerve to tell him she'd fallen in love with him so fiercely she felt like she'd fallen from a height.

  Chapter Thirty

  When Hugh returned, Court had his arm around Annalía at the dining table, stroking the back of her neck and murmuring in her ear. His brother had barely been able to grate out an "invitation" for Court to join him for a drink after dinner. Court had wanted to go with Anna when she retired, but she said she was sleepy and wanted him to visit with his brother.

  "Why, Court?" Hugh asked as he sank into the leather chair in the study. He pinched the bridge of his nose, appearing exhausted.

  "I got to a point where I could no' resist any longer."

  "That's no' why you took her virtue. Because you 'could no' resist.' You're one of the most disciplined men I've ever known. Which means you made a conscious decision." He exhaled a long breath. "You did it so you would be forced to marry her. And more important, so a woman like that would be forced to marry you."

  His eyes narrowed. "No, she wants me, too."

  "Do you think that someone like her is going to enjoy living in a drafty four-hundred-year-old keep? No' to mention that your propitious land grab just officially put your home in the middle of nowhere. A seamstress is no' going to ride through thousands of acres to get to your bonny wife out there."

  "Where she lived before was no' exactly a metropolis."

  "Does she even know who you are? Be realistic, Court."

  "You mean a cursed, sterile mercenary living in a stone heap?"

  Hugh raised his eyebrows and said simply, "Aye."

  Strange how one word could feel like a punch he hadn't tensed for. Court didn't bother to hide his resentment before he strode from the room.

  Afterward he walked the house, scowling at everything he saw. This was not how he lived. What she saw was gilded. Anna saw the wealth and the servants, and if she was comfortable here, she would not be at his home in the wilds of northern Scotland.

  And what did she know about him? She had an idea of him as a gentle lover, but lately he'd been losing control, little by little.

  Sometimes he wanted to take her much harder than he did….

  He entered her room, found her sleeping on her front, with the sheet kicked off and her hair spilling across the pillow just as it had when he'd gone to her room in Andorra. He'd stared at her that night, envisioning himself palming her thighs and sex until she rose to her knees. Court remembered how furiously he'd wanted her, remembered how he'd hated the fact that a fine lady like her would never have him.

  Yet she would. She would right now.

  He stripped down, then knelt between her legs, running his hand up her thighs to her nightgown. She murmured but slept on as he rolled it higher to her waist.

  He put his palm to her sex, his fingers higher, massaging. She woke with a gasp.

  "Spread your legs." She did without hesitation. "More." She did, trusting him.

  He pressed his finger into her, closing his eyes at the lush feeling, the growing wetness that would soon be gloving him. When her breaths came faster he placed another finger in. She moaned, but he wouldn't push far within her—just enough to make her want more. He groaned when she tried to twist down to get him to take her deeper. Using small touches, he teased her to her knees.

  "Yes," he said, his voice hoarse. "On your knees. On your hands." When she was as he wanted her, he rolled her nightdress up her back and over her head, pulling her up against his chest so he could untangle the silk from her arms. He threw it to the side, then inhaled the addictive scent of her hair as it brushed his face. "I canna get enough of you, mo cridhe," he rasped as he eased her back down.

  Without his touch she must have grown embarrassed, because she started to lie down once more. He grabbed her hips before she could and steadied her. "No, I want you like this."

  "Like what?" she whispered.

  In answer, he spread her flesh and ran his thumb up and down. Her head fell forward and her back arched down. "But…it's how…it's how animals mate," she whispered wildly.

  "Aye." He reached under her and cupped her breast, plucking her nipple, and she gasped.

  "I can't…I don't know."

  He pulled her up to his chest again, and brushed her thick hair over her shoulder so he could kiss her neck, then trailed his fingers down her belly all the way to her sex, plunging his fingers into her. She moaned and went limp. He captured her against his chest, with a tight arm wrapped over her breasts. Beneath them, he thrust his fingers into her again and again until she was close. Then he removed them, devoting both hands to her breasts, palming them wholly and lightly pinching her nipples.

  She cried out, "Please, Court."

  "What do you want?"

  "You know."

  "You need something filling you?"

  She gasped but nodded.

  He prodded her thigh with his now aching erection. "Put it inside you."

  "What?" she whispered.

  "Put me inside you. Now."

  "How?"

  "You know how."

  When she hesitated, he circled her nipple with the tip of his finger as he ran his tongue against her earlobe. Her head
fell back to rest on his shoulder and he grazed his teeth along her neck, saying against her damp skin, "Take my shaft in your hand."

  He felt her hand closing over him, distinctly felt one soft finger at a time curling around him. He groaned with need, wanting inside her so badly. He wanted that fine woman from the bed, the one that he'd despaired of ever having, to desire him so strongly that she'd guide him into her own body.

  She brought him to her wet flesh, and he thought he might come the moment the head pushed against her. He put his hands on the front of her thighs and pulled them farther apart, making her spread her knees wider. Then both his hands were back on her breasts, kneading, desperate, struggling not to buck into her.

  He closed his eyes as she did it, as she worked his shaft inside her tightness, loving that she moaned with each inch slowly sliding in. He hissed in a breath, but stilled halfway, letting her get used to him.

  Because he was about to ride her harder than he ever had.

  She put her hands back, grasping his thighs. He clenched her hips, plunging up into her, and she cried out.

  "I need tae take you hard."

  "Any way you wish—" she cried between hectic breaths, but the words broke on a moan when he rocked his hips into her again.

  "You know what I want, Anna. Will you be givin' it tae me?"

  Her fingernails dug into the backs of his thighs, and he heard her murmur, "Yes."

  He took her lobe between his teeth and growled in her ear, "Then go tae your hands."

  She nodded, her hair brushing up and down over his arm. He placed a flat hand on her back to ease her down, then shoved her knees wider with his own. Clamping her shoulders, he pulled her along his cock.

  He drew his hips back, then thrust again, going in harder than he'd meant to, but she cried, "Ah, yes."

  He bucked into her, his skin sounding against hers. "Arch your back down," he grated. She did, and in reward he reached around her to rub at her sex and place his flattened palm just beneath her breast so her nipple rasped against it with each of his thrusts.