Page 59 of Marin’s Promise

The women who had lain with him were lusty, experienced, and eager to sate his passions.

He made his way to the wine flagon and poured a cup. The liquid splashed into the chalice like a wave of blood and obliterated the quiet.

He turned to her. “Ye look lovely.” And she did, like a pagan goddess with her loose flowing hair gleaming like spun gold and her eyes sparkling with the excitement of the feast.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. The intensity of her shrewd stare darted briefly to the bed before returning to him.

He followed her gaze with a forced languid ease, pausing to take in the fresh linens and creamy white bed clothes as well as the pink rose petals scattered over its surface. A bed made for consummation.

He lifted the goblet and approached her. His footsteps were thunderous on the hard floor and he swore he could hear the tapping of her rapid heartbeat.

“I told ye before, ye dinna have to be afraid of me.” He dipped his finger into the wine. “I willna force ye. I told ye as much in the beginning.”

She nodded.

“I want to give ye pleasure, lass.” He stepped closer to her and welcomed the sweet tease of her lavender scent. “I want ye to want this as I do.”

He drew his finger from the cup and slowly brought it close to her mouth. When she did not move away, he traced his digit over her lower lip, painting her rouged flesh with rich wine. Her breath drew in and she watched him with wide eyes as she tucked her lower lip into her mouth to suck it clean.

Heat fired through him, singeing away the foreign awkwardness.

“Do ye know I willna hurt ye?” He dipped his finger into the wine again and drew it over both lips this time. The lower first, then the sensual shape of her upper lip. A dark red droplet beaded and threatened to run down her chin. He caught it with his thumb before it could drip and licked it from his skin.

Marin ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, so they glistened with temptation. “I know.” She said it with such conviction, it cleared the lingering vestiges of his discomfort.

“I've thought about ye, Marin.” He touched his forefinger to the wine and brought it to her once more. “More than I ought to have.”

Her lips parted and she drew his finger into the moist heat of her mouth with a little suck.

His cock tensed with eagerness. “Have ye thought of me?” He set the wine aside. “How I kissed ye, how I touched ye?”

Her gaze darted away, and her cheeks flushed darker than the rouge.

He leaned to whisper in her ear, his voice intentionally sensual. “Be honest.”

Her breathing hitched, and her eyes brightened. “Aye.” She closed her eyes as she whispered the solitary word, as if she were confessing a sin.

God's teeth, he could not stay himself any longer. He held her face in one of his hands, while curling the other around to the back of her head, threading his fingers through the glossy wealth of her hair, and pressed his mouth to hers.

She parted her lips and the tip of her tongue grazed his with an innocent's eagerness. She tasted richly of wine and sexual hunger. He groaned and deepened their kiss, eager to experience her once more, eager to claim the woman who had become his wife.