Katharine Ashe - How to Marry a Highlander

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With seven troublesome half sisters to marry off, Duncan, the Earl of Eads, has one problem: he's broke.
With the prospect of marriage to the pompous local curate, Miss Teresa Finch-Freeworth has one dream: to wed instead the handsome Highlander she saw at a ball.
How does a desperate lady convince a reluctant laird that she's the perfect bride for him? She strikes a wager! If she can find seven husbands for seven sisters, the earl must marry her.
Duncan has no intention of wedding the meddlesome maiden, and he gives her a deadline even the most audacious matchmaker can't meet—one month. But Teresa sets terms, too: with each bridegroom she finds, the earl must pay her increasingly intimate rewards . . .

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“Managing female,” Duncan murmured, masking his satisfaction.

She turned her face up and her eyes shone with a wondering, wary light.

“If you think I am so managing I wonder that you have not asked why I haven’t found a willing husband for myself in all these weeks.”

“Do ye?”

“Why haven’t you?”

Because he was a daft fool. Because he was running as fast as he could yet losing ground. Because he needed to have her beneath him and if she belonged to another man that would never happen. Because he couldn’t bear the thought of it.

He touched her cheek then slid his fingers into her silken hair. He brushed a kiss across her lips, then traced the seam with his tongue, tasting her. “A wager’s a wager.” She tasted of buttery sugar and she was soft everywhere—

the dip beneath her ear, the contour of her throat, the curve of her neck to her shoulder. Her intoxicating lips.

She clutched him with slender hands. “You trusted that I would not renege on my part of the wager? This part?”

“Ye wanted me. No th’other way around.” Not the truth . He had wanted her since the moment he’d seen her. He’d tried to escape to Scotland to save himself, but she hadn’t allowed that.

“I did,” she whispered, stretching to allow him the flavor of her neck. “I do.

Oh .” Her hands convulsed on his shoulders. “Duncan, make love to me now before I lose my courage.”

“Ye’ve more courage than any leddy I’ve ever kent, Teresa Finch-

Freeworth.”

“Let’s not test that theory now, though. All right?”

He laughed and took her waist in his hands.

“Will you undress me?” Her voice quavered but her gaze was direct. “I understand that’s preferable.”

He smiled. “Aye, ’tis preferable.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“No. I’m thinking hou I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut. “Undress me. Please. Now. I don’t think I can bear to wait another minute.”

Garment by garment, slowly he revealed the body he’d been lusting over —forever, it seemed. She stood perfectly still, a rosy glow high on her cheeks and her breathing fast, and did not shy away when he finally drew the chemise over her head and discarded it.

“Yer beautiful.”

Her lashes lifted. “You are still dressed.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Remove your clothes too.” She caught her plump lower lip between her teeth. “Please.”

“Yer wager didna specify that.”

Her eyes popped wide. “But, I—Oh. You are teasing now.” Her grin was so sweet he had to taste it. She responded to his kiss with her entire naked body, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lush curves to him. He filled his hands with her soft behind and made her feel his desire.

She moaned. His cock jerked. He pulled her tight to him. She rocked her sex into him and slid her tongue into his mouth, and he knew that if he didn’t remove her from him now , in a moment he’d be taking her against the bedpost still fully dressed.

That was no way for a lady to lose her innocence. His lady.

He peeled her off him and had to force his attention up from her spectacular breasts. The aureoles were large and dusky pink and tight with her arousal.

“Lie down,” he said roughly, grabbing at one of his boots.

She pivoted to look about the chamber, her breasts swaying. “Anywhere?”

He tore at his cravat. “Anywhere.”

She disposed herself on her stomach on a pile of pillows on the floor. She sank into the cushions and cast a delighted grin over her shoulder.

He couldn’t unbutton his waistcoat fast enough.

She scooped a handful of rose petals and scattered them. “This is positively decadent,” she purred.

“Ye’ve got perfect hips.” He dragged his shirt over his head. “Wide. Strong.

Beautiful.”

“I cannot believe you are looking at my bared behind and telling me I have wide hips. I may die of shame.”

“Ye’ve no shame to speak o’.”

“It’s true. I’ve never seen any use for it. But perhaps I should have.”

He knelt and curved a palm over her buttock. She was soft. So soft. He dipped his thumb between her thighs. “I like ye shameless.”

“Oh— oh .”

“Spread yer knees, luve.”

She did as commanded and he drew her back against him.

Her breaths came brokenly. “What are you doing?”

“What I’ve been wanting to do since I first saw ye.” With his hands he guided her, stroking her against his erection until she released a long sigh.

Then he nestled his cock between her buttocks.

He closed his eyes and struggled for breath.

She had stiffened. He ran his palms over her hips then her slender waist and cradled her magnificent breasts in his hands. Her breathing deepened.

Giving her what they both wanted, finally Duncan released the past.

Teresa had heard that some women with large breasts could not feel acute sensation in them. She discovered now that she was most definitely not one of those women. Duncan teased her nipples into taut peaks and she felt it in her toes and lips and everywhere in between.

“Does this please ye?”

Yes .” She moaned and trembled and pushed back against him. She wanted something else. Something more. She ached for it.

“Beautiful woman.” He thrust against her, and again, and the rhythm of her hips swaying forward grew heavy inside her, hot and damp. She went onto her elbows, wanting and wanting, rocking and hearing his sounds of pleasure that made her wild.

“Please,” she whispered. “ Please .”

His hand delved between her thighs.

Pleasure . Ecstasy. His touch was perfect. She threw her head back and moaned. “Oh, Duncan.” Her body was tightening, coiling, burning with pleasure. It had never felt like this with her own hand, never—ever—

Pleasure seized her, cascading upon a series of choking moans. He turned her onto her back deep in the cushions, spread her knees, and put his hard, hot cockhead at her entrance. Then he took her virginity.

He was gentle at first, and then not so gentle because she wanted it. He was everything she had fantasized. He gave and gave, and when a droplet of sweat trickled down his chest she reached between them and gave back to him.

He groaned and thrust harder. Then harder yet. He used her deeply, completely and she clutched the cushions and convulsed again with astonished whimpers. His release was sudden and fierce.

She twined her arms around his shoulders. Still inside her, he kissed her with great tenderness, his hand stealing over her waist and stroking the swell of her hip.

Finally he rolled onto his back.

With a great sigh of satisfaction, she threw out her arms to either side.

“That was very . . . nice .”

He chuckled. “Nice, hm?”

She grinned like a cat at the cream pot—a sleepy cat lying in the sun after lapping up the entire contents of the cream pot. Her eyelids drooped.

When she awoke it was dusk and Duncan was not in the bedchamber. She had not expected him to be.

She dressed, arranged her hair, and went home.

10

At ten o’clock the following morning she was at the writing desk in Diantha’s parlor, putting the final touches on her latest story, when Una and Tobias entered. They wasted no time in telling her their news. But she knew it before they spoke; their faces showed their joy.

“I am beside myself with happiness.” She embraced Una. “It has been my dearest wish for weeks, though I didn’t know if you had the courage to admit it, brother.”

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