“Does that find favor wi’ ye? Or does a man wish a wife who will yield to him and prove obedient?”
“I do no’ ken wha’ other men may want. I find mysel’ well content.”
The kiss happened without effort or intention. Their lips just closed the brief distance between and met. And within Alan’s body, within his mind, every other consideration foundered. He snapped into alignment and his heart—his heart bounded.
Her lips felt soft, warm despite the wet, and his entire being wanted to consume them—consume her. To this desire she appeared to pose no objection, for she fell into his arms and surrendered with a sigh.
How long that kiss lasted, Alan never knew. Minutes. Hours. Neither of them wanted to break contact. Her hands slid up around his neck and her fingers dug their way into his wet hair.
They explored one another’s mouths with hot, damp concentration, and Alan not only forgot to listen for danger, he forgot his brother existed.
When the kiss broke at last, she glided her lips across his cheek to his ear.
“I fear we ha’ well and truly broken our promise. I am usually better than this, at keeping my vow.”
“Are ye, then?” Alan barely cared. Wild thoughts flew through his mind. They were alone. He might have her here, were she willing. If the accursed wound in his chest would permit.
“Och, aye.”
“D’ye rue breaking your promise?”
“Och, nay.” She fastened her mouth to his again, a blatant invitation. He dragged her onto his knees. Och, aye, and that felt good, the hardness he’d sprouted very nearly where it belonged.
This time when she drew away to speak, she was breathless. “I canna imagine wha’ has come over me.”
“I believe, lady wife, ’tis called lust.”
That—which might have shocked any other woman of his acquaintance—made her smile. Her eyes danced. “Is it, then? I do no’ believe I ha’ ever before experienced it.”
“Nay?”
She shook her head. “Convenient, is it no’, that when I do, it should be wi’ my husband? ’Twill prevent me committing a mortal sin.”
“Will it, then?” He licked his lips and tasted her. “D’ye contemplate committing a sin?”
“Frequently, I fear.” She lowered her lashes demurely, but he was not fooled. Her look was pure speculation.
“Tell me, husband, where might lust drive a man and a woman?”
“Two who mayhap find themselves alone?”
“Just so.”
“And who are, in fact, wed?”
“Indeed.”
“And ha’ laid aside for the moment any inconvenient promises?”
“That too.”
“Why, I suppose they would continue to kiss, perhaps extending such blandishments to places other than the lips.” He illustrated by planting his mouth at the soft skin beneath her ear.
“Oh.”
“And continue to touch one another.”
“Pray, show me.”
