“No matter,” Annista decided. “Ye ha’ made a promise for my sake. And me, I believe in your promises.”
“Like that I made, no’ to touch ye?”
“No’ to touch me—wi’out invitation.” She slid closer on the bench. Lifted her arms and wound them about his neck. Pressed her lips to his.
Fire—a great up-flaring of it. Alan could describe the sensation no other way. Bright, immediate. Scorching.
He heard a groan and realized it came from his own throat. He drew her in, regardless of his injury.
With a corresponding moan, she opened her lips to him, and he dove in.
Need this was, pure and simple, even more than desire. A request of the heart and the flesh. He needed to touch this woman, be with her, meld to her in spirit. If that meant being inside her—
It did. Och, aye, it did.
“Alan,” she gasped into his mouth and he captured the word, swallowed it. They shared one breath, one heartbeat, and very nearly one being.
When that lengthy and utterly incredible kiss ended, they both trembled.
“So,” he gusted into her ear even as she clutched at him. “Ye no longer forbid my touch, my lady?”
“I do no’. In fact—I find that I crave it.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye.” She backed off just far enough to gaze into his eyes. “Wha’ happened at the lodge—”
She wanted more of that, did she? As did he. More than what had happened there, for he was hard as iron.
“If,” she said, “ye are ordered to stay here the night…”
“And guard the manor.”
“I do no’ see why I—as your wife—should no’ guard it along wi’ ye. Nor why that cannot be accomplished…from your bed.”
She whispered the last three words, accompanying each of them with an equally soft kiss upon his lips.
He thought her presence in his bed would prove a powerful distraction. But he certainly was not about to say so.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Annista made certain Bonnie was settled in her own little room—settled and feeling safe—before announcing to the maid that she herself would be spending the night through the connecting door.
Bonnie’s eyes widened. “Ye mean, Miss—”
“In my husband’s chamber.” Annista glanced into her maid’s face before looking away again. Was it truly so shocking? They were, after all, wed.
“Oh, I see,” Bonnie breathed, beginning to get back up from her bed. “Well, then. I will fetch your best night rail. And yer hair, Mistress—shall we leave it down and unbraided?”
Now Annista eyed her maid in surprise.
“Well,” Bonnie whispered in response to that look, “it is to be your—er—wedding night.”
“Aye, so. Leave my hair down.” Would he wish to run his fingers through it? “As for the gown—aye, the one wi’ all the lace.” How long would it remain on her body?
Alan had gone to speak to the footmen and set a careful guard, both on the stables and the manor house itself. She did not know how soon he might return.
Just as she did not know whether the activity in which they just might engage would prove detrimental to the wound he carried.
