Mary Wine - Improper Seduction

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.