When she sought to shield her breasts, he caught her by the wrists—how fine-boned and fragile they were—and held them at her sides.
Some distant part of him registered that she turned her face away. Her bravado was crumbling. No doubt she thought him hard and heartless.
Her skin was alabaster white. She was slender as a reed, her legs long and shapely. Yet even feeling used, he experienced a sharp stab of lust. He envisioned those long legs wrapped around his hips, his rod buried deep and hard.
His regard was long and thoroughly unhurried. Vaguely he registered her distress, for even as he battled the pangs of awareness, his mind was elsewhere.
She was exquisite. Christ, it made no sense. How could he have made love to a woman like this and have no recollection? How? Christ, he must have been feeling the effects of too much liquor more than he thought. Surely he would have remembered beauty such as this.
Doubt crowded his chest. His mind blurred as he struggled to resurrect that night. Perhaps in the dark…clothing pushed aside…
His jaw clamped tight. His breathing was hard. Quick. He fought a scorching battle with red-hot desire that threatened to overcome reason. Releasing her wrists, he stared down at her, deliberately clamping his hand around one breast. She flinched.
His hand fell away. So, she thought him hard and heartless. So much for bringing her to rapture, he thought with a twist of his lips.
Abruptly, he snatched up his coat and shirt. “I’m going to my room, Irish. Come find me if you discover yourself lonely.”
Chapter Nine
It is a marriage nonetheless…I merely wish to set about the bedding of my bride with husbandly vigor…I promise you, you’ll not be disappointed.
Like the ringing of bells, Maura heard his voice, tolling through her mind.
It cost her much to admit that the encounter had left her nerves scraped raw. Shaken, her heart still pounding violently, she threw on her nightgown and practically leaped into bed.
She didn’t deceive herself. Alec McBride was a formidable presence. He exuded power. Self-confidence. He was not a man one could underestimate, she conceded silently. Not a man one should underestimate.
She was very much afraid she had made a grave miscalculation.
Alec left her in no doubt as to his feelings about this marriage. He resented it. He believed she’d married him for his wealth.
Which was all well and good, she thought shakily. But what if he found out Murdoch had paid the deacon? What if he discovered that Deacon O’Reilly was no deacon at all? Oh, once upon a time he’d been a clergyman. But that was before he was caught pilfering from the church funds and stripped of all privilege.
What if Alec discovered their marriage was a sham?
The thought sent panic tracing through her. When Alec left tonight, she’d never seen eyes so cold and icy. She had only sought to make her way into the house of the Black Scotsman. She hadn’t counted on the man himself.
He was shrewd. She hadn’t expected him to stroll into her room as he had. That, she acknowledged with a faint hint of panic, was a mistake on her part. She’d cautioned herself not to let down her guard. But she certainly hadn’t expected him to strip her naked, the wretch!
It wasn’t wise to provoke him, she scolded herself soundly. She must learn to curb her tongue. But he himself provoked her reaction, with his goading little speeches. The man was beastly and arrogant! How dare he barge into her room unannounced!
You are the interloper here,charged a niggling little voice in her mind.
She stared up at the ceiling. She could still hear his voice.
I promised you a night of marital bliss.
She had been lucky tonight. Whether or not he truly intended to follow through, she couldn’t be sure. She thought hedidn’t. There had been too much anger in his kiss. Too much angry pride, she acknowledged shakily.
Her emotions were wildly erratic. She was both excited and afraid. At least she was here. In Scotland. Murdoch had warned her, however.If you dig a grave for others, you might fall into it yourself.
Alec McBride might well prove her downfall. One false move and all would be lost.
Maura didn’t deceive herself as to his behavior. His message tonight had been clear. This was his home and he would do as he pleased. She was his, and he would do as he pleased with her.
It was his way of telling her he would not be manipulated.
But she could not yield, she thought. She must endeavor to stay out of his bed. She had to believe she could. As angry as he’d been over being forced to marry her, he was still a gentleman. A rather wild and wicked one, and there was the rub.
