The Recruit (32 page)

As the moment of silence stretched, her heartbeat seemed to quicken. Her hands dampened.
Her throat grew dry. The bundle of nerves knotting in her stomach returned, as did
the butterflies fluttering in her chest.

He, too, appeared increasingly edgy. He stood to replenish his cup, muttering something
about whisky. Out of the
corner of her eye, she saw him toss back the cup and take a long drink of wine before
slamming it down on the table.

“Are you going to do that all night?” he snapped.

She put down her embroidery slowly, realization dawning.
My God, he’s nervous!
It seemed inconceivable that this arrogant, cocky warrior with his own retinue of
female admirers could be nervous. It was charming—and rather sweet. Two words she’d
never thought to use to describe him.

“I can put it aside now, if you’d like.”

All of a sudden his demeanor changed. He swore and dragged his hands through his still
damp hair. “Hell, I’m sorry.” He gave her another one of those boyishly wry smiles
that landed in her chest with a thump. “I’ve never done this before.” She lifted her
brow, and he laughed. “Had a wedding night,” he clarified.

She had, but nothing about that night reminded her of tonight. Then she’d been a frightened
girl, ignorant of what was to come, and in awe of her much older husband. She’d been
so shy and intimidated, she’d barely said a word to him. She remembered disappointment,
pain, and shame.

Now she was a woman, only a few years younger than he, scarred by the past, perhaps,
but also stronger. Bolder. Wiser. She was no longer in awe of a handsome knight, knowing
there were no heroes, only men. She was still frightened, perhaps, but by the anticipation.
By how much she wanted this. How much she wanted him. He had spoken to her more in
the past few minutes than Atholl had their entire marriage.

“I should think it would be like any other night,” she said, trying to hide her amusement.
“But if you like, we can wait—”

It was the wrong thing to say. Or perhaps the right thing. He crossed the room in
three strides and lifted her from
the chair to her feet. His arms wrapped around her. “Not a chance, my lady wife. You
won’t get out of it that easily.”

Get out of it
. As he took her in his arms, and that delicious warmth spread over her, she was certain
that was what she
should
want to do. Should.

Seventeen
 

The anticipation had been building inside him all day. By the time Kenneth walked
into the room, he was ready to pick her up, toss her on the bed, and lose himself
in mindless oblivion.

He hadn’t had a woman in …

He didn’t want to think about how long. Had he made love with another women since
that night at Dunstaffnage? He couldn’t remember.
Liar
.

He’d been angry at first and then too busy, damn it. He’d been focused on earning
his way into the Guard.

There had been opportunities; he just hadn’t much felt like acting on them. Even no
effort had seemed like too much. Which sure as hell didn’t explain all the effort
he was going to for her.

Despite the deprived state of his cock, and that it didn’t seem to take more than
a glimpse of her to put him in a very pained state, he’d forced himself to take it
slow. Wooing. Seducing. Putting her at ease.

Nothing that should have made him feel so damned
nervous
. Nervous? Hell, he hadn’t ever been nervous with a woman. Ever. Even when he was
young and inexperienced enough to warrant it.

But then again, he’d never made love to his wife before. He’d never cared about getting
something so right. He wanted it to be perfect. For his mission, of course.

But the moment he wrapped her in his arms, the edginess
seemed to disappear. He was back on solid ground. No more thinking. No more talking.
Time to let instinct take over.

“I wasn’t trying to get out of it,” she whispered.

“You weren’t?” His hand took a long, slow journey down her spine; he loved the way
she shuddered against him.

She shook her head.

She looked so sweet he had to kiss her. His mouth covered hers with a groan. Hunger
rose inside him like a maelstrom, but he forced himself to slow. Tasting the honey
sweetness of her lips with a gentle caress. Letting his mouth move over hers in a
smooth, sensual dance.

But damn, she felt good. He slid his tongue deeper and deeper in her mouth the way
he wanted to make love to her. He started to tighten his arms to fit her more closely
against him, when the swell of her stomach stopped him.

Hell, how could he have not considered the babe?

He lifted his head. “Perhaps this isn’t a good idea.”

Her expression changed in an instant, from soft and aroused to pale and crestfallen.
And something else he couldn’t quite identify—almost vulnerable.

She dropped her gaze and tried to pull away. “Of course. I see myself every day, so
I don’t realize how much I must have changed.”

He frowned. What in Hades was she talking about? As the thought had never occurred
to him, it took him a minute to realize what she meant. He caught her before she could
slip away. “You
have
changed. You are even more beautiful than you were before.”

“That isn’t saying much,” she said wryly.

He laughed. “I suspect that was your intent.” She didn’t deny it. “You were far too
thin. Believe me, sweeting, your new curves have only added to your beauty, and my
desire for you. If you like, you can feel for yourself.” He was pleased to see a blush
rise to her cheeks, but unfortunately,
she didn’t take him up on his offer. “My concern is for the child. Is this … I don’t
want to do anything to hurt …”

A shy smile returned to her face. “The baby will not be hurt. The church might not
like it, but I believe it is quite common for a husband to share his wife’s bed until
near the end of the pregnancy.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, and that was enough. He swept her up into his arms—or arm, as he could
easily bear her weight on his good arm—and carried her to the bed.

Laying her gently atop the bed coverings, he proceeded to remove his boots, plaid,
and shirt. Bared to the waist, he turned to see her studying him with a distressed
look on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

Troubled eyes lifted to his. “Your arm. Does it hurt very badly? I never thanked you
for what you did for Davey.” She shivered. “Had you not been there …”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her, putting his finger on her
mouth to stop her from finishing the thought. “Don’t think about it. But you’re welcome.”
He moved his arm around. It was stiff and still a bit sore, but it felt surprisingly
strong. Thanks to his sister. “The wound is healing well. I should be able to resume
my duties on the battlefield soon enough.”

Just not too soon.

“I wish there was something I could do.”

His blood heated at the innocent offer. He could think of a lot of things she could
do. But those would keep for later.

Stretched out on the bed before him, with her golden hair spilling out on the pillow
behind her head, her lush form clad in a thin chemise and velvet robe tied loosely
around the middle, adorably tiny feet peeking out from below, she was doing plenty.
He drew in his breath and traced the lush curves and contours of her breasts with
the back of one finger.

He heard her draw in her breath as well, and when he looked at her face, he watched
as the flush of desire washed over her. Her lips parted. Her eyes drew heavy. Her
cheeks pinkened. It was one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen.

With one touch he could arouse her passion, and it was just as hot and fiery as his.

Desire roared through his veins. His heart started to pound and his cock swelled hard,
straining and throbbing against the ties of his breeches. He wanted to take her tiny
hand and wrap it around him. He wanted to feel the wet heat of her mouth sucking him.
But most of all he wanted to bury himself deep inside her until she couldn’t deny
this connection between them.

“There is something you can do,” he rasped, the heat in his eyes leaving no question
of his meaning.

She feigned shock. “Are you asking me to pay you back with my body, my lord?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “I am. And I intend for you to pay dearly. Starting right
now.” His finger found the nub of her nipple, and he started to draw tiny little circles
around its tip until it hardened to a delicious point. It was everything he could
do not to rip the robe and chemise apart and take it in his mouth. Her breasts were
incredible. So full and ripe.

But this wasn’t going to be about lust. He was going to seduce his bride if it killed
him. He wanted her begging for him.

Mary couldn’t move. Every nerve ending in her body was flared and straining in the
direction of his finger. Sweet heaven, what was he doing to her? This wasn’t going
at all as she’d planned. She’d envisioned a quick and passionate coupling. Preferably
in the dark. Not this intimacy. Not talking. Not teasing. Not slow, unhurried seduction.

Like a spider to the fly, he was luring her into his dangerous web. She could feel
herself sliding, slipping into a place
of confusing emotions. A place where she would be unprotected and vulnerable to emotions
she didn’t want to feel.

She had to get back on track. Open her eyes and harden her heart. Passion, not tenderness.
Lust, not intimacy.

But the more she knew him, the harder it was to resist him. He wasn’t just a handsome,
wicked scoundrel who’d taunted her with a night of passion. He was still cocky and
arrogant, and he still had far too many women throwing themselves at his feet, but
behind the bold facade he was also kind, considerate, and at times surprisingly sweet.
Looking at his fierce, imposing facade, you would never know it. But she did.

If only he would stop looking at her like that. If only he would stop touching her
like that. He’d taken command of her body with one deft finger.

“Do you like that, sweeting?” he said softly.

She wanted to tell him no. She didn’t want to draw this out any longer than was necessary,
but her breasts were so heavy. Her nipple throbbed, ached for something more.

She was trying so hard to resist. But finally the sensation built until she couldn’t
hold it any longer. The restless, impatient feeling was coming over her again. She
let out a soft cry, arching into his hand. “Please.”

Finally, he cupped her in his palms, rubbing her nipple between his finger and forefinger
with just the right amount of pressure. She remembered the heat of his mouth through
her gown the last time …

She cried out again, a rush of heat pooling between her thighs.

His slow seduction slipped. He let out a growl and covered her mouth with his, cupping
and squeezing her breast with all the frenzy she could have asked for.

His incredible chest was leaning over her, naked and warm. She didn’t have to tell
herself to reach up and put her hands on him; it was instinctive. A shock of heat
reverberated through her at the contact. His skin was so smooth,
which seemed incongruous with the hard granite of his muscles below. Muscles that
flexed and flared at her touch as her hands roamed over the broad spans of his shoulders
and back.

His kiss was growing more passionate by the second, more aggressive, his tongue plunging
into her mouth with wild, carnal abandon.

She could feel the hard press of his erection against her thigh. Feel his hands sliding
between her robe to push it apart.

Yes
, she thought. This was exactly the way she wanted it. Hurried and frenzied. Hot and
passionate.

She moaned her encouragement, her hands slipping down his back to settle at his waist,
pulling him more urgently against her.

But he had more control than she. Just when she thought he was going to loosen his
breeches, toss up her skirts, and plunge inside, he drew back with a harsh grunt.
“Not so fast, little one. We have all night, and I intend to use every minute of it.”

Kenneth saw her eyes widen with something that almost looked like fear.

“Is th-that … necessary?” His gaze narrowed, and she explained hastily. “It’s just
that I’ve had a long day, as I’m sure you have. I’m rather tired.”

Tired? When a few seconds ago she’d been writhing in his arms, her body a lit keg
of black powder getting ready to explode?

His mouth fell in a hard line, suspecting what this was about. Apparently, she still
wanted only one thing from him. But he had no intention of letting her dictate the
terms of their marriage bed. Unwittingly, his bride had just set down a challenge
to a man who couldn’t resist one.

He hid his irritation behind a complacent smile. “Of course. I understand. We can
go as fast or as slow as you like.”

Her brow furrowed skeptically. “Really?”

“Really.”

He was just going to make sure she never wanted it to end.