On a moan, he took command of the moment, tasting her as if she were a treat and he a starving man. Fumbling for her hem, Ethan skimmed one large hand up her leg until he gripped the curve of her hip.
Desire coiled low in a tingling heat that settled between her thighs, demanding contact. With her leg free of her skirts, she shifted, straddling his lap to press their bodies together, soothing that ache. The movement brought his hand to cradle her bottom. An appreciative hum sounded from his throat. She nipped his lip in reply, skimming her hands over every inch of sun-kissed skin within reach. Touching him was a pleasure in itself, but knowing he received pleasure from her touch fanned curiosity into passion.
At the juncture of her thighs, she pressed against the ridge of him. Breathless, she pulled back from the kiss enough to ask, “Is this a yes to my proposition?”
He pulled her against his hardness, and she lost her breath all over again. Ethan’s gravelly voice rumbled. “We only do what you’re comfortable with. Agreed? There’s much we can do without French letters.”
The urgent friction between her legs made her moan. Her fingers clutched his shoulders, using his body as an anchor. “Agreed. But I think we’ll need them. God, that feels amazing. Don’t stop.”
Pulling her hot core against him in a rhythm, Ethan used his teeth to pull aside the neckline of her bodice. His hot groan at her collarbone vibrated through her chest as he gasped expletives with openmouthed kisses on her skin. Goose bumps skittered over her flesh, and that coiled tension built until it threatened to burst from her skin. “Lesson one. Come for me, lass.”
Chapter Sixteen
Breakfast the next morning was a study in avoiding eye contact and not blushing. There’d been the worry at the back of Lottie’s mind that she would feel awkward the next time she saw Ethan. After all, the evening before he’d brought her to orgasm, and she’d reciprocated by opening the placket of his breeches and taking him in hand. The size of him had made her pause, wondering how they’d fit together should things progress enough to need a French letter. The thought hadn’t stopped her for long, as each encouraging noise he’d made had inflamed her own arousal.
All in all, it had been a successful experiment in pleasure—even though she’d gone to bed feeling as if she’d been primed but not entirely satisfied. One would think after an orgasm one’s body would be content and return to a sense of normality. Not so. She added that to the list of things she’d learned last night.
So what happened when you faced that person over sausages and eggs the next morning? If you were her, you grasped the bottom of your chair with one hand to keep yourself seated and resisted the urge to repeat the experience of the night before in the breakfast room. It turned out Lottie had a streak of lusty physicality within her, and she didn’t know what to do with it when indulging wasn’t an option. They were alone at the moment, but that wouldn’t last long with servants entering and exiting the room.
Dropping sugar into her tea, Lottie stirred the dark brew and blew over the top. She studied the subtle pattern of the tablecloth. The piece was of good quality. A local weaver, perhaps?
Wondering if Ethan was terribly attached to the blue wallcoverings or if he’d consider a bright spring green instead occupied another few minutes. The morning light would be lovely against walls colored like sprigs of rosemary. The blue really was too dark for this small room.
“Are you all right, lass?”
“Hmm? Yes. Why do you ask?”
Ethan cocked his head. “Because you’re on your third cup of tea and haven’ started talking yet and won’ look at me.”
She sighed, setting the cup down. “I’m sorry. Truly, I’m fine.”
“If you’re regretting last night, I would understand. It doesn’t need tae happen again.”
“No,” she nearly yelled. Lottie closed her eyes and counted to three, then repeated, softly, “No. I don’t regret it. Quite the opposite, actually. I’m acutely aware that we could be interrupted at any moment. Agatha might join us, or a footman will enter the room to refresh the teapot, or a maid will come in to stoke the fire. I’m trying to be circumspect instead of mooning over the lord of the manor like some ninny.”
The dimple in his cheek made an appearance, wreaking havoc on her nerves, which were already humming from her confession. “So we’ll talk about something else,” he said. “I’m visiting the tenants today. The Thatchers are expecting a babe any day, and I wanted tae check in. Would you like tae join me?”
Estate matters she could focus on. Hearing the schedule—all things well within her comfort zone—steadied her. “I’d like that, thank you. How do you feel about green for the walls in this room, instead of blue?”
“Planning tae redecorate already, milady? Don’ ye need tae marry him first?” Connor said from the doorway. His tone was light and breezy, but there was a hardness about his smile that made Lottie uneasy.
She smiled tightly. “Merely making conversation.”
“What can I do for you, Connor?” Ethan asked.
“Were ye planning tae visit the worksite today? I’ve heard from the workers, and Mr. Macdonell seems tae have sent ahead a list of ideas about changing the building already,” Connor said.
Ethan gulped the last of his tea, then wiped his mouth on a napkin. “We are going by today, yes. And don’ worry about Macdonell. I brought him in this early in the project for exactly that reason. If the building won’ work for what he needs, better we find out now when we can build tae suit, aye?” He stood and made his way to Lottie’s seat. He kissed her cheek and said, “I need tae grab a few things before we go. Take your time. I’ll wait in the library.”
She and Connor watched him go. At the last minute, Ethan called over his shoulder, “And for the record, I think green is a grand idea.”
Lottie chuckled, then returned to her breakfast before she remembered that Connor remained in the room. “Have you eaten? The water is still hot if you’d like some tea.”
Crossing his arms, he studied her. “No thank ye, milady.”
Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she set her utensils on her plate and dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin. “I’d best join his lordship.”
“How long do ye plan tae stay, your ladyship?”
Lottie smoothed a curl in place, trying to determine how to handle him. Connor and Ethan had a special, complicated relationship, but she didn’t quite know what to do with him—especially when his direct way of speaking came across as rudeness. “We haven’t set a date for our return to London yet. I’m sure Lord Amesbury will inform you when we know.”
Connor gave her a short nod, then headed for the door. “I only ask because this brewery is important. We don’ need our viscount gallivanting off in Lon’on when he’s needed here. You’re an expensive distraction, and ye already hurt ’im before.”
Well that put her in her place, although it was a confusing version of their history. The door closed behind Connor, leaving her alone. Standing by the table, she plucked the last sausage off her plate, then finished her tea and wiped her fingers on the napkin. Glancing around her, she said, “It really is too blue.”
* * *
It may have been his plan to include Lottie in his business in order to show her how she might fit in here at Woodrest, but today hadn’t been the best day to bring her along. Connor was in a mood, the arrival of Macdonell had thrown the masons and carpenters into chaos, and Lottie rode beside him, suspiciously quiet for the last hour. “What’s on your mind, lass?”
“Connor doesn’t like me, does he?”
He furrowed his brow. “Connor is grumpy today. Don’ take it personally. Was he rude tae you? I’ll no’ let him make you feel unwelcome, Lottie.” If Connor and Lottie didn’t figure out how to get along, there could be problems ahead—assuming he brought her around to the idea of a shared future.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe it was nothing.”
They’d just l
eft the Thatchers’ house—where Mrs. Thatcher seemed beyond ready to have the baby, if only the baby would cooperate—when Lottie spoke again. “Is the local midwife one you trust, or should we bring someone in for the baby’s birth? I was going over the date calculations with Mrs. Thatcher, and the babe is overdue. With such a large child, there could be complications.”
“The midwife in the village is very experienced. Mrs. Thatcher is in good hands.” Watching Lottie interact with the building crew and tenants was a new way to get to know her. It was obvious she felt deeply, cared about details—and yes, sometimes managed everyone around her. Usually those people needed managing, though, so he could hardly blame her.
He reined Ezra under a tree. When he dismounted and held his arms open to her, she slid off her horse without protest. The dip of her waist seemed custom made for his hands. Flashes of memories from last night flickered behind his eyes, as they had all day. How Lottie had looked when she’d come apart in his arms—her long throat working for breath as she cried out, causing her neck to vibrate under his mouth. The satisfied expression she’d worn when she’d made him come in return—an endearing blend of sexy smugness and fascination at the process. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. About being lovers.”
“From your tone, I feel I won’t like where this is going.”
This had been running through his brain all day, but it was still a tangle to speak the words in order. “I want you. Don’ doubt that. Ever. Not ever, you hear me, lass? I can’t believe I’m even saying this. But as long as our agreement stands and this engagement ends in three weeks, we won’ be needin’ those French letters.” Tightening his grip on her waist, he drew her closer. “I want so badly tae be the dishonorable bastard you used tae know. If I were, I’d tup you on the grass right now and not leave your thighs for days.”
She remained quiet, but Lottie was rarely still. Her fingers worked the linen of his cravat, adjusting the folds of the knot while he spoke.
“Maybe it’s splitting hairs, tae assuage my conscience. But here’s what I offer instead. We explore other ways tae bring each other pleasure. My body is yours tae enjoy. But I won’ do anything that risks a babe.” If she fell pregnant, they’d have to marry, and the last thing he wanted was to force her hand. Even though the hands in question felt better than anything he’d ever experienced—and there he went, back down the hot slide toward arousal.
Her sigh puffed against his chest. “This is your final answer? Do you think you have the self-control to not need a French letter?”
A choked, self-deprecating laugh worked past his throat. “I’ve no bloody idea, but I’ll try my damnedest.”
A devilish glint in her eye alerted him to a change in her mood. “How close can we get before you lose control, do you think?” She leaned against the tree, pulling the lapels of his coat so he followed.
“That’s a dangerous question, lass.” Pressing his body to hers, he loved how she instinctively shifted, welcoming him into the cradle of her hips. There was no disguising his body hardening against her. With an impish smile, Lottie wrapped her foot behind his knee and pulled him that final inch until there wasn’t any space left between them. He caught her leg at his hip, then dipped a hand beneath her skirt to skim up her calf until he found skin above her garter. Exactly how close to this line in the sand could they play before he had to pull back? Lottie was a physical woman with a deep well of untapped passion; he’d be a fool to ignore their shared desire—especially when he suspected it might be the key to her considering a future together.
She raised a brow in challenge, even as the pink blush of arousal crept across her chest. “Touch me like you did last night but without clothes in the way. If I can’t have you inside me, let me feel you.” The words ratcheted his desire to a new level. He wanted to be in her in the worst way. Perceptive, Lottie tilted her head. “You like it when I tell you what I want.”
“Aye,” he ground out. “I want you tae tell me what you need.” Her thigh was smooth under the rough pads of his fingers, and it felt forbidden, like fondling a priceless marble sculpture. Except marble wasn’t molten and wet like she was behind the curls he parted. Lottie’s eyes fluttered closed as she leaned her head back against the tree, offering her neck to him. Settling his mouth on her rabbiting pulse, he inhaled the lemony scent of her and smiled at her moan when his fingers entered her heat.
Her submission lasted only a moment before she sought his mouth and he felt the buttons on his breeches give way to her hands. “I need more of you. Please, Ethan. I don’t want to go over that edge without you.” Wrapping her hand around his length, she rose on her toes to press her cunny against his cock.
They froze, skin to skin, petal soft to hard. His breathing sawed out of him as Ethan held her wide-eyed gaze and hitched her higher against the tree, dragging the length of his erection against her heat. Out of instinct, her hips tilted to try to bring him inside. He held her in place, then slipped against her again. It might kill him, but he wouldn’t enter her.
“You’re so wet. God, you’re perfect, love.” Ethan savored her cry as he used his slick length to rub the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit, traveling her outer channel over and over. With one hand under her thigh and the other behind her neck, he tried to protect her from the rough bark of the tree, pinning her with the pressure of his hips. Their foreheads touched, and he locked gazes with her as they panted together. So close, her wetness pillowing his cock without letting him inside, it took everything in him to not notch the head of his erection into her.
As if she read his mind, she whimpered, “Just one stroke inside. Just one, please.” The desperate plea of please was on her lips when her orgasm overtook everything else. With one more stroke—alas, outside her body—he followed with his own climax.
Whether through self-control or lucky timing, he spilled on the ground between them. Ethan had to wonder if he’d have caved to temptation and slipped inside her if she’d lasted another thirty seconds.
Placing gentle kisses on her jaw, Ethan worked his way toward her mouth, stealing a few quiet moments before the real world intruded on them. While seconds ago she’d been begging, it was on the tip of his tongue to ask for more from her now. Lottie was willing to share her body with him, but even as he shook from his release, Ethan suspected what he really wanted was her heart.
Chapter Seventeen
The mount Lottie had chosen for the day’s ride pranced with a skittery side step to avoid a tuft of grass waving in the breeze. There was an ease to how she collected the gelding beneath her, murmuring soothing noises while she brought the horse under control. The country was her natural habitat. She was comfortable here, and he didn’t want to think about her leaving soon.
They’d spent the afternoon visiting the construction site and helping Mr. Macdonell settle in to his cottage. After a day on horseback, Lottie was windblown, mussed, and distracting. He’d pulled her behind two stone walls and a tree so far today to steal kisses, and each time she’d gone willingly. He’d tried his damnedest to stop at kisses. The encounter by the tree the day before had been thrilling but dangerously close to the point of no return. Now, on their way back to Woodrest, a feeling of contentment washed over him.
“Where are your land borders?”
“Do you see way over there, the sun reflecting off the water? Woodrest runs tae where the bit of the Thames meets the River Cray, and about a half hour’s ride tae the south beyond us.” He pointed to the landmarks.
“Is it very different from Scotland? I’d think to go from a smaller homestead to this with no preparation or training…how incredibly overwhelming.”
That was the understatement of the day. “A solicitor showed up on my doorstep, claiming I was an English lord of all things, and I didn’ know what tae think. My family—no’ this English branch—we were sheep farmers. And damn good ones too. I didn’ know anything else.”
“Very different from the future you’d imagine
d, I suppose,” she said.
Peat smoke from the tenants’ hearths scented the breeze, not quite covered by the scent of fresh earth after last night’s rain. “God and the English king conspire against those who make plans of their own.” He laughed a little, shaking his head. “When I saw Woodrest the first time, I panicked. I thought I was doing well for myself, aye? I could support a wife with the land my parents left me. But my entire childhood home would fit inside one of the drawing rooms here.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t run away from it all.”
Frankly, so was he. Sometimes the urge still hit him to leave it all behind and go back to his quiet corner of Scotland. They let their horses pick their way across a small stream, navigating rocks and uneven ground. “I nearly did. Excused myself from the staff and the solicitor, then sat on the floor of the smallest closet I could find. I remember thinking there wasn’ enough air tae breathe while I waited for my heart tae beat out of my chest.”
“How old were you?”
“Young. Twenty-two. Sitting in a scullery closet, panicking like a child.” They were cresting a small hill, with the fields spread out before them, and pride shot through him. The estate’s success was evidenced by harvested land and well-maintained buildings. A tenant cottage stood to their right, tidy and charming, with a small kitchen garden off the side farthest from the west wind, and a heavy wood door worn smooth from decades of hands coming home. He shot her a glance and was gratified to see Lottie taking it all in.
“I might have panicked too. Where were your parents in all this? How did you not know you might inherit?”
That was a question he’d often wondered himself. In the beginning, he’d struggled with resentment that Da hadn’t prepared him for the possibility. No one could have foreseen an entire line of men dying off, though. Or maybe Da would have mentioned it when Ethan was older. “We were the black sheep branch and had been for a few generations. No one cared that we were there, and some English title wasn’ important tae us in the village. Mum and Da had passed on by the time I inherited.”
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