Page 79 of A Daring Desire

Ciarán narrowed his eyes.

“Do you think I couldn’t run such a place?” she demanded hotly.

“No, of course not,” he replied, a notch appearing between his eyebrows. “But why—”

“Because I don’t have such a heartbreaking history with it. Ciarán, I understand this place holds painful memories, but it is not the fault of the house. It needs to be loved and set free of the past. It has been set in aspic and so all the memories linger too, for nothing has changed. I am simply itching to bring it back to life, and it will bring good will to the surrounding villages as I seek extra labour, and—”

“Oh, bloody hell, Catherine!” he exclaimed. “Yes, yes, do what you want with the blasted place. It’s yours.”

She gave a squeal and leapt at him, smothering him with kisses. He protested, telling her to pack it in and stop being such a goose, but she persisted, and in the end, he had no choice but to kiss her properly.

Before Ciarán knew where he was, things had escalated as they always did with his enchantingly spoiled brat of a wife, and he lifted her as she wrapped her legs about his hips.

“Manipulative little baggage,” he growled, nipping at her ear, but she was not fooled and only laughed, tugging his shirt free of his waistband.

“Make love to me,” she demanded and, whilst he wanted to leave the house, to put it behind him so he could forget about it, he could deny her nothing. Not when he wanted her so badly.

It seemed she only needed to give him a look, a touch, and he was on fire for her. Never had he wanted anyone like he wanted his wife. He was half mad with it, unable to bear her out of his sight for too long without missing her so badly he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He sat her on the edge of the bed, pushing skirts and mountains of fabric aside and finding the slit in her drawers. Ciarán’s breath caught as he found her wet and ready for him and it took a bare moment to free himself from his trousers with hands that were not entirely steady.

“You are driving me to Bedlam, little wife,” he warned her, thrusting inside her so hard and fast that she gasped, clutching at his neck and dragging his mouth to hers.

“Take me with you, then,” she said with a dreamy sigh.

“I shall. You are mine now, just as you wanted, and I’m never letting you go, Catherine. You ought to be careful what you wish for in future.”

“Oh, I wish for many things,” she said, gazing up at him. “For all my days with you, for children, for a happy home. For this house to be filled with laughter, to make love with you in every room until the ghosts are all gone.”

He laughed at her audacity. “A daring desire, considering my wish to never set foot here again.”

“Oh no,” she said, moving his hand to her breast, where he obliged her by freeing her nipple and taking it into his mouth. She held his head close to her. “I already took my dare. It’s why we are married, you see.”

His head came up, and he stilled, staring at her. “What?”

Her smile was part chagrin, part smug satisfaction. “It was a dare. We all take them. All the Daring Daughters must take a dare from the hat. It’s tradition, for our mothers did it too, you see. Mine was to do something that frightened me, so I went after you, confronting you in the stables when I was supposed to be at the ball, to beg you not to leave England.”

“That was a dare?”

She nodded. “And they’ve always guided us safely, always set us on the right path, and for a long time I thought I had misinterpreted mine, that I’d got it wrong. But I think I was supposed to be taught patience, for I have none, you know,” she added frankly.

He laughed at that. “You don’t say.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

He kissed her, beguiled all over again by the wonderful, ridiculous creature he had married, and how terrifyingly reckless she had been… all for him. “Well, I shall do you the great favour of making love to you in every room of every other house I own… there are several you don’t know about,” he added with a smirk.

“Well, I suppose that will do… for now,” she said loftily, and laid back on the bed in a state of such wanton abandon he was helpless to do anything but follow her down.

“For now,” he muttered with an amused snort, but was soon too lost in the pleasure of her, in the joy she brought him, to consider that his wife had plans he was unlikely to thwart entirely.

No doubt she would get her way in the end, but it would be a good deal of fun to discover how she did it.

“Yes, Ciarán, for now. Do be quiet and make love to me,” she suggested.

So he did.

Epilogue