Mary Wine - Improper Seduction

“Since you have aided me so sweetly, I believe I shall return the favor.”

Her head jerked up to meet his eyes. “What do you mean?” She sounded too breathless. Swallowing hard, she tried to force her nervousness down where it would not be so noticeable.

He pointed at the drying rack. “You came to bathe. A rather good idea since we are to take to the road on the morrow.” His lips resumed that mocking grin she detested. “I will remain and wash your back.”

“That is not the custom.”

His grin faded. “Neither is departing for London to wed another when you have already had the blessing of the church given to you to wed with me.”

“You may say that as often as you like, and still I will not change my response to you, Lord Ryppon. I am not ashamed of being obedient to my father’s will. He is the one who commanded me to kneel beside you.”

His face was set into a disapproving mask, but it suddenly broke when he chuckled. “I am pleasantly surprised by how much courage you have, Bridget.”

It was a compliment. She turned and busied herself with taking the used washcloth to the basket for soiled linens. She heard the water swish behind her and his wet feet connecting with the floor. He must have tugged the little cork stopper from the bottom of the tub, because the sound of rushing water filled the chamber. Gravity took the water away from the tub through a hole in the stone floor that led to a carefully maintained gutter beneath the house. Such a design allowed for bathing year-round and was a sign of the more modern construction of the estate. The bathing chamber had only been added a few years ago after her father had seen one at the palace. He’d had to bribe the royal guards to get a look at the king’s newest comfort, but he’d declared it well worth every bit of silver to not suffer stinking during the winter.

She felt a prickle along her nape and looked up to discover Curan within arm’s reach. He moved quickly for so large a man, a length of toweling wrapped around his waist now, but the fabric was wet and lying over the hard shape of his erection.

“I am grateful that you respected your father’s wishes to wed me.”

“We are not completely wed.”

He reached past her and picked up his britches. “Then why did you just stroke my cock?”

He whispered the words, but that did not lessen their impact.

“You should not say such things.”

His hand reached out and captured her upper arm. A moment later she was pressed against him with a hard arm securing her around her waist.

“I enjoyed it.”

Three words had never sounded so enticing before.

She was captivated by the sound of his voice and the flicker of hunger in his eyes. The hands that she’d laid on his chest to push him back flattened. Her fingers spread wide in enjoyment. His skin was warm and his flesh firm beneath her hands. It was a delight for the senses. Pleasure began seeping past her temper. The sweet sensation produced by their skin meeting swiftly became more important than whatever had upset her.

“And now I wish to see you enjoy my touch.”

He angled his head and pressed a soft kiss against her mouth. She sprang away from it, using her hands to push him back, a soft growl her response. A moment later the arm around her waist slipped right up her back, pulling her toward him again. His other arm encircled her waist, and her hands became trapped between them.

“Accept my kiss, Bridget. It is my right to taste you.”

It was a command, one given in a husky tone. He didn’t wait for her to agree, his lips pressing against hers in a hard kiss that demanded compliance. But it was not unpleasant. Her lips tingled and her belly tightened. He slipped his lips across hers, teasing the tender skin with his own. Pleasure rippled through her when he took instant advantage of her open mouth, the tip of his tongue sweeping along her lower lip before venturing inside her mouth. A soft sound issued from her, but she wasn’t sure if it was distress or delight. She shivered in his embrace, her body twisting as she became overwhelmed by too much sensation. His tongue boldly penetrated her mouth, stabbing deep inside to stroke her own. The feeling was too much to understand. She struggled to pull her lips away from his only to hear her own breath gasping when she succeeded. Her hands strained to push him away. Her strength was nothing compared to his. One of his hands cupped her nape and turned her to face him.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t seem to resist. Even as her body burned with a multitude of impulses, she was eager to look into his eyes. Drawn there for some reason. The hold on her neck became tender, his fingers stroking the soft skin beneath her braid.

She was not frightened. Bridget ordered herself to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were full of hunger. She understood what he craved. Beneath the layers of her clothing, her passage was heating and yearning for exactly the same thing. She felt empty. Never had she noticed her passage so aching to be filled. She craved the same penetration she had witnessed Marie receiving. Call her wanton, yet she was honest enough to admit her hunger.

“I will not take you here, beneath your father’s roof.” Pride edged his words. “We will consummate our vows at Amber Hill. That is more fitting.”

A muscle jerked on the side of his jaw. His attention dropped to her mouth for a long moment, and his arms tightened around her. But he suddenly released her and turned his back on her. The toweling dropped, and Bridget turned to avoid looking at his naked body again. The sight was too much to resist. She forgot every reason not to touch him when her sight was filled with his bare form. Never had she considered that she would find a male body so pleasing. Curan’s body drew her attention to each hard ridge of muscle and then onto the rigid cock standing proudly between his thighs. Obviously she was too weak to resist temptation.

She heard him dressing, the sounds of fabric being drawn over his body a relief, but it also drew a lament from her.

He turned with his shirt still untied.

“Finish dressing me, Bridget.”

Confusion drew her lips into a frown. He reached out and lifted her chin.

“I enjoyed your hands on me when you did it of your own free will. I would have such again.”

“As you will.”

It was an unpolished response. But her mind was crowded with too many sensations and the impulses they drew from her. She could not seem to sort it all into any manner of logical understanding. But her hands lifted and smoothed his collar into place before tying the ribbons to close it. Part of her raged against the action. But she finished and took up the ribbons that would close the cuff of his shirt. Her fingertips lay against his inner wrist for a moment, and then the contact was severed when she pulled the laces. She bit into her lower lip. Concentration seemed to elude her when he was near—quite bothersome, but exciting, too. In truth, she longed to be out of his sight for a few moments to compose herself.

But he wanted to wash her back.

She continued to worry her lower lip. There was no way to leave without turning coward. Maybe she should. He liked her courage. If she showed him weakness, the man might very well turn his back on her.

Every fiber of her person rebelled against that thought. Whether it was because her pride refused or her body, she didn’t know.

But she stood back and reached for one of the pins holding her braids to her head and tugged it free. He watched her. Her stomach tightened with nervousness. But Marie’s lessons surfaced above the tension. Taking a few steps away from him, she peeked over her shoulder and drew another pin. His face became hard and unreadable, but his gaze followed her hand with absolute devotion. A few more pins and her braids loosened before falling down her back. She placed the pins aside before turning and slowly untying one of the ribbons that kept her hair braid from unlacing.