by Mary Wine
“It is only a trifle. What is a bit of bread and cheese when I have done little the entire day? For certain there are more important matters for your attention.”
He hooked his hands into his belt, his lips pressing into a hard line. “Do not try to placate me, Bridget. It was two meals missed, for you never broke your fast this morning.”
Stubborn man, so determined to have his way, but his keen observance of her was unnerving. This attention felt so intimate. Drawing a deep breath, Bridget continued smiling at him. His eyebrows lowered; the hands gripping his belt turned white.
“As you will. The wagon sways, sir. I have not been to sea since I was a girl, but I found the sensation quite similar. It was not so great a burden that I felt the need to delay the progress of your entire army by telling you that it unsettled my stomach.”
Surprise crossed his features at the simple honesty of her response.
“I am quite hungry now, I do assure you.” With another soft flutter of her eyelashes, she turned and resumed walking down the hill. It was a bold move, but she kept her chin level and her pace even. Marie had been confident and smooth. Still, Bridget felt his eyes on her.
She made the bottom of the rise, and the sounds of men talking grew. The horses were quiet now, the animals eagerly chomping on their feed. Smoke teased her nose, coupled with the scent of roasting meat. That smell drew a rumble from her belly, loud and long, betraying just how empty her stomach was. Now that she thought about it, she had not supped the night before, either. The scent of food actually made her quiver. Her pace quickened; the desire to make it through the last screen of trees became intense. Was there truly fresh meat? Her belly grumbled once again.
“We need more practice on how to deal with one another, Bridget.”
Curan spoke next to her ear. She felt his breath, warm against her skin, and shivered. He caught her once again, this time sliding a solid arm around her waist to stop her. He plucked her out of her steps and pulled her against his larger frame.
“I, for one, am most curious to discover just how well your confidence holds up when there is nothing to prevent us from being completely intimate.”
He stood flush against her back, his body hard and large behind her. Every little sensation intensified because she could not see him. The idea of him was far more powerful than the man she saw when facing him. Gooseflesh raced across her skin, and she couldn’t quite decide what to do with her hands. Her fingers released the fabric of her dress and sought out the hard arm holding her in place. But without gloves, her fingertips seemed more receptive. She felt his body heat through his clothing, and her hand abandoned his arm.
A soft chuckle shook his chest, and she recalled it from when she had bathed him. A moment later his fingertips gently stroked the bare skin of her neck.
“Uncertain, Bridget?”
Though his voice was teasing, the inference of his comment annoyed her. There was no thinking through her actions; she was too agitated by the proximity of his body. She jerked against his hold, her hand clawing at the arm imprisoning her.
“Of course I am. What think you? That I have been free with men?”
Her efforts to free herself were wasted. Too much strength rested in him, yet he controlled it, his embrace remaining solid without hurting her.
He stroked her neck again. She was keenly aware of each fingertip. Her own skin, sensitive to his lightest touch, bloomed with warmth under his touch. The chill of the evening quickly became soothing as her body heated.
“I wonder about what you have been doing with a courtesan.”
He spoke the words softly, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge to his tone. Bridget froze, standing still in his embrace.
“My mother told you about Marie’s lessons?”
He grunted, which was no true answer. A moment later she was free. She could still hear his men on the other side of the trees, but she was too curious to know the answer to her question, so she turned to look at Curan.
“Lessons? What sort of a mother has her daughter tutored by a courtesan?”
His tone implied that he disapproved, yet his expression remained unreadable.
“Why didn’t you ask my mother that question?”
His eyes brightened with his temper. “If I had known of it while still beneath her roof, I would have.” Thick determination edged each word. “My men found your teacher on the road, intent on spending another day instructing you.”
“Didn’t you ask Marie that question, my lord?”
His expression tightened. “She refused to speak upon the matter. So I ask you, Bridget. What manner of lessons were you taking from her hand?”
Even Marie’s soft instructions to stroke men’s egos didn’t keep Bridget calm. Her annoyance burned bright. Her neck was still warm and tingling where he’d stroked her, driving home how well he knew a woman’s body. Yet he was displeased that she might know a thing or two about how to touch him.
The arrogance of it all.
“Frank ones, sir. So that I would not find myself quivering like a ninny when my groom removes his nightshirt. Somehow I doubt that you are unaware of what I look like beneath my stays, and yet you stand there displeased by the notion that my mother made sure that I was ready to take my position as wife with confidence instead of dread. If that displeases you, set me back on the road home. I am sure you can find some bride who will sniffle like a frightened child, since that appears to be what men think they desire from marriage.”
His unreadable mask transformed into an incredulous expression. “You play the docile lady well, yet I see it is not your true nature.”
“If you do not wish to hear me speak plainly, do not address me in private. Be assured that I know how to appear meek so that the egos of my male relatives are not bruised while others watch.”
His lips curved up into a grin that was anything but comforting. Instead the expression sent a shiver down Bridget’s spine.
“Yet in private is the only true place for us to discuss what a courtesan taught you.” His eyes narrowed. “Show me.”
Bridget plucked at her skirt nervously. He was playful once more, but she couldn’t miss the warning bell ringing in the back of her mind. “I do not know what you mean.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “Show me what manner of instruction prompted you to stroke my cock.”
His words were intended to prod her into making a hasty confession. Bridget felt her face heat. She pressed her lips into a hard line as her hands fisted in the fabric of her surcoat. A memory of Marie and her steady poise rose to mingle with her temper. She rubbed her fingers against the wool fabric of her dress to distract her from her rising emotions. She needed her poise now, more than ever before, for this man was deadly accurate in the barbs he cast.
Bridget drew a slow breath before answering him. “Since it vexed you so, I will refrain from doing such again.”
Her words did more damage than any slap from her hand might have. For a moment his eyes were filled with yearning and disappointment. Yet he recovered quickly, a soft snarl coming from him.
“On the contrary, madam. I am looking forward to giving you ample opportunity to perfect your skill.” His face darkened, hunger drawing his expression tight. Had she truly affected him so? Part of her enjoyed thinking such. His dark eyes suddenly glittered.
“Be careful, Bridget. Look at me like that and you will not arrive at Amber Hill a virgin.”
There was thick promise in his tone, but also hunger. A soft laugh spilled out of her mouth. “Your mood appears to change rather abruptly, my lord. I find myself confused as to your will.”
“My will? My will remains unchanged.” He scanned her from head to toe, missing nothing. “I intend to take you home and to my bed.”
He was trying to shock her. Or perhaps test her was a better way to consider it. Challenge was etched into his features, and it drew a response from her pride.
“Ah, but I believe I am now unsure how you prefer me to
behave once you have placed me where you will, since you appear unhappy about my dealing with Marie. Hmm … I suppose I can remain still and quiet.”
His lips curved up again. “Not unless you have the strength of Diana, you won’t.”
There was a smug confidence in his voice that taunted her, but it also reminded her of the look in Marie’s eyes. Bridget recalled the sultry confidence that had surrounded the woman when she was sharing intimacies with Tomas. Curan seemed to understand it, too, and the reason was plain—the man was no virgin. Bridget found herself battling envy.
“What do you mean?”
His lips parted to show her even teeth. It was a roguish smile and one that transformed his face into a handsome vision. Curan clicked his tongue in reprimand.
“What is this, Bridget? Playacting? Do you really expect me to believe that a courtesan neglected to divulge the knowledge of just how much pleasure a woman can experience?” He stepped closer, and she tipped her head back to keep their gazes locked. Something dark in his eyes beckoned to her, hinting of that final lesson Marie had promised her.
“I promise you, as my wife, I intend to make sure you experience as much delight as possible.”
Her mouth was suddenly dry, but she wanted to know what he meant, if it was that same thing Marie had promised to teach her but never got the opportunity.
“She said it would be better if I allowed myself to enjoy your touch …”
Her words trailed off into a whisper because her lungs were having trouble keeping up with the racing of her heart. Bridget looked away in order to sort her thoughts, but a large hand cupped her chin and brought her eyes back to his. Her cheeks burned at the probing intensity of his gaze, his dark eyes seeming to sear right into her thoughts.
“But she didn’t demonstrate any of those touches?”
Alarm raced through Bridget, and she jerked her head out of his grasp. “You mean upon me, with her own hands?” Revulsion flooded her, and she shook her head.
His arm captured her once more, sliding across her back to secure her against him.
“I am pleased to see that look on your face.”
Confusion needled her, and she spoke before thinking about how unwise her words might be. “Do you mean to say that she might have touched me?”
“Exactly as I have done, madam.” His arm held her steady when she would have jerked away. “Some women enjoy it. Even prefer it to a man’s touch.” His eyes flickered with hard resolve. “I wonder if you do.”
“She did not touch me. Save for a hand beneath my chin once. I did not enjoy it as I do your—”
She shut her jaw so fast her teeth clicked together. Embarrassment heated her cheeks, but what made her belly tighten was the flicker of heat in Curan’s dark eyes.
“Stop toying with me.” She was ashamed of how close her tone was to begging but could do nothing to change it. Her entire body was twisting and tightening with needs she was losing the ability to control. His eyebrows lowered.
“I do not mean to be unkind, Bridget. Yet I am as drawn to you as you are to me.”
He lifted her and moved her back until she felt the thick trunk of a tree pressing into her back. His huge frame held her against it while one of his knees boldly pressed between her thighs. His free hand smoothed down her body, over the curve of her hip and onto her thigh to grip it and pull it up.
“I find myself battling the urge to bind you to me.” He spoke through his teeth, his control clearly stretched thin. He pulled her thigh up until it rested against his hip, allowing his leg to press firmly against her sex. The fabric of her dress was no shield. At least not one up to the task of protecting her from the rush of pleasure that assaulted her.
You could couple in more positions than just on your back …
The position he held her in was enough to allow him to penetrate her right now, and she felt the night air brush her ankle as he began to tug her skirt up.
“Curan …”
“Yes, Bridget?” Her skirt rose higher, that cool air teasing her knee. She clamped down on the panic trying to flood her. It would be better to know what he intended; then she would not shiver while she waited to discover his will. Yet that did not mean she would simply bow to his command. She flattened her hands on his chest and listened to the soft snort that passed his lips in response to her touch.
“What do you want of me?” Her voice was firmer, and that gave her satisfaction. “Is it your intention to shame me in front of your men by lifting my skirts like a doxy?”
His hand fisted in the fabric of her gown. She could feel how tightly he gripped it, and her chin rose with defiance.
His face was becoming harder to see as night wrapped around them. In a way, the darkness deepened the mood gripping her, making it even harder to ignore the need pulsing through her. Though the night made it much simpler to surrender, her pride refused to remain silent.
“If you choose to challenge me, Bridget, be very sure that I will take up the gauntlet.” He pulled her gown up farther.
“I did not cast out any challenge, sir.”
His hand found the back of her thigh, skin against skin, and she gasped as hot sensation shot up her leg.
“Ah, but I disagree, sweet Bridget. Your very demeanor challenges me to claim you.” He smoothed his hand along the back of her thigh, sending little waves of enjoyment through her skin. Her breath felt almost too heavy in her lungs, and she labored to exhale.
“So the fact that I am not simpering like a foolish chit makes it correct for you to treat me disrespectfully?”
His face was hidden half in shadow, but she still noticed the tensing around his mouth as her words impacted him. His hand froze on her thigh, granting her a reprieve from the delight his touch inflicted on her.
“You are my wife. Touching you is my right; there is no disrespect.”
“Indeed, my lord? With my skirt hiked above my knees and my thighs on display to any of your men who cares to watch?”
She felt his fingers tightening on her thigh, but they relaxed almost as soon as she felt the tensing.
“None of my men would dare.”
“Or would they simply not admit that they were enjoying the sight, my lord? By the time you were ready to protect my modesty, they would likely have slipped away.”
Her words were bold, dangerously so, because now she was casting a challenge. Maybe it was the darkness, or the overwhelming need he provoked that made her want to allow him to do what he pleased with her…. Whatever it was, there was no tempering her words.
The hand on her thigh left, and her skirt fell back down to cover her legs.
“You are correct, Bridget. You are not a girl, but more of a woman. One that knows full well how to tease a man.”
His tone told her that was not a compliment. His breath was raspy, and he didn’t move away, but remained with his body pressing her tightly against the tree. There was a look in his eyes, one that told her he wanted her to feel his strength, know that it was greater than her own.
A shiver of what she now knew to be arousal skittered down her back, because she did indeed enjoy his embrace. He was her opposite, hardness opposed to her softness, and the contrast was alluring.
“I will look forward to a full rendering of your studies once we are encased in the privacy of my chambers at Amber Hill.”
His mouth captured hers in the dark, his lips boldly taking a hard kiss from her. But the shocking thing was how much she enjoyed the way he commanded her mouth, his lips pressing hers until they opened and he could thrust his tongue inside her mouth. The invasion drew an insane need to press her body against his. She didn’t want to be his prisoner; she craved something different. Her hands slid up and over the hard muscles of his chest until she found the top of his shoulders where her fingers might curl around and hold him. She tilted her head to the side so that their mouths might fit more completely against one another. A low growl rumbled through his chest before he cupped the back of her neck.
Yes …
That was the only thought her mind seemed able to hold. Her mouth opened for his kiss, and she sent her tongue toward his, stroking along its surface. Another growl came from him, and he pressed her tighter against him. She could feel the hard outline of his cock against her belly, and it tore her away from the pleasure of the kiss. His hand left her head, smoothing along the column of her throat and down to boldly stroke the swell of her breast. Excitement made her shiver, and her nipple begged for his fingers to travel lower so that she might feel what it was like to have his hand on them.
You yearn for it so much …
She retreated, letting her body fall back against the tree instead of pressing so feverishly up against his, the force of her desire shocking her. Watching Tomas and Marie had not prepared her for how her body was demanding she allow Curan to claim her.
“Enough, Curan. We have agreed that this is not the place to …” Her voice was too husky, shocking her further, so she shut her lips while her hands gripped the rough bark of the tree behind her.
He allowed her retreat, but only a few inches. Her breath came in pants, but his was labored, too.
“I see that your tutoring did not include true kissing, even if you were shown what to expect.”
He drew in a deep breath and stepped back. “We will wait until we reach Amber Hill.”
Each word sounded as though it were forced through his teeth. But she understood why. Her entire body was pulsing with needs so great they were rapidly transforming into demands. She fisted her fingers in her skirts while fighting off the urge to reach for him once more.
She longed to, actually craved having their skin meet again. The urge to shed her dress and press against him pounded through her so loud and hard it drove almost every other thought from her mind.
“These … feelings. They cannot be right.”
Her words were a mere whisper, a vain attempt to regain some measure of control over the weakness that seemed to have taken command of her flesh. How did one kiss destroy so many years of practice and instruction on proper behavior?