Histhroat worked.
Empowered by her affect over him, she edged the blanket lower. “I canna believe nay one has ever told you that you have a fine body, one any woman would want, one I canna wait to—.”
“Move over.”
Pleased by his brusque manner, she shifted to give him room, but not too much. If she were to suffer in their delay to make love, she would ensure he experienced the same wanting ache. And if in their play he decided to take her, Gwendolyn believed she could find forgiveness for his transgression as well.
Bróccín moved beneath the covers, and then rolled over to lie on his back.
A smile touched her mouth as Gwendolyn shifted so her entire body pressed against his. “Neither of us will be cold this night.”
Bróccín grunted, and then tugged up the cover.“Go to sleep.”
Her smile grew as she ran her finger along the curve of his arm, resisting a laugh at the sudden tensing of muscle. “At every turn, just when I believe I am starting to understand you, I discover you are not the man I initially thought.”
Silence.
“When we first met,” she continued, far from dissuaded, “I was put off by your brusqueness, had pegged you as a cold man, uncaring about everything except war.”
He remained quiet, but the pulse in his throat raced.
“Now with each passing day,” she continued, caressing his broad shoulder, “I find you caring, a man who doesna make decisions in haste.” She lingered as she reached his lower back. ’Tis said you are a warrior who inspires devout loyalty. Now,” she said, slipping her hand lower, “I understand why.”
The cover rustled as he faced her. He clasped her hand within his. “You understand naught.”
“I believe I do,” she said, “and am surprised the fact makes youuncomfortable.”
“You dinna worry me.”
“I think,” she said as she skimmed her free hand down the lean muscles across his chest, enjoying the play of thick hair upon his taut skin, “that I do.”
His brows narrowed as he leaned over and caught her other wrist, leaving him on his elbows but a breath above her. “Good God, lass, go to sleep!”
“Will you dream of me?” she asked in asultry whisper.
“Nightmares, to be sure,” he said, the brusqueness in his voice lost beneath a strained groan. He scowled. “I havena figured out why you intrigue me.”
“I do?” sheasked, pleased.
“Aye,” he said on an exasperated exhale, his expression growing tender. “You are unlike any woman Ihave ever met.”
She shifted closer so her breasts slid across his chest. “How so?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Do you plan on badgeringme all night?”
Her gaze lowered to where the mat of hair disappeared beneath his trews, the thought of him thrusting her warmth shooting thrills through her body. “If you dinna feel like talking, you could kiss me. Or,” she said at his pained look, “you could answer my question.”
“Will you go to sleep after?”
“After what, the kiss or your answer?”
He muttered a curse.
Enjoying their banter, she pressed her lips against his neck and nibbled her way down. “That isna an answer,” she purred, relishing the salty-sweet taste of him.
“And that,” he said, releasing her and shifting to his side, “isna listening.”
At the movement, firelight illuminated a Celtic cross design on his opposite shoulder. Pigments of pewter gray and black ink crafted the symbol with jade stones at the end of each tip.
