Page 89 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“My lord,” she said in a half gasp. “Sir, please, I-I—”

Erroll froze as if he’d been doused in ice water. It wasn’t Rushton, but my lord, and sir. “Love, it’s all right.”

“We cannot,” she said. “Oscar—Holy God, Grace.”

Erroll wished Miss Grace Crenshaw far, far away.

He pushed himself up and looked down at Eve. She swallowed and Erroll felt another hard pulse in his cock when her slim throat contracted.

“You might, marry my sister.”

“No, I will not.” he said, with vehemence. “Do you deny you want me?”

“I…I am not made of stone.”

But he certainly was, or a part of him was, anyway, and that part was ravenous.

“If you should end up married to Grace, I would never be able to face her,” Eve said in a whisper.

“Is that all that stands in our way?” he demanded. He would solve that problem this instant with Captain Mercantile officiating their marriage.

She hesitated, then pursed her lips. “Contrary to gossip, I do not spread my legs for every man who asks it.”

“Of course not. Anyone who would think such a thing—” Erroll stared down at her. “Halifax did not by chance imply that?”

Her cheeks turned pink.

Erroll cursed. He shoved off her, and pulled her to her feet. “One can only hope that my aim was sufficiently accurate to put an end to his miserable life.” He gave her a critical look. “Put your dress to rights, madam.”

She looked down at where one breast was bared to the nipple. Her head snapped up, but Erroll kept his gaze fixed on the perfect pink bud. She whirled and pulled her dress up. Erroll envisioned the bodice sliding up over the nipple, and his mouth went dry. When she faced him, the fabric was once again molded to the full mounds with exquisite perfection. There would be no sleep tonight—or any night to come if he didn’t do something about the situation.

Erroll crossed to the door, opened it, then paused. “By the by, Eve, I will shoot the next man who implies you spread your legs for any man who asks.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise and he closed the door behind him.

*****

Ravenhall came into view through the carriage window and Eve was certain her stomach would rebel on a monumental level.

“My lord, it is magnificent,” Grace cried.

Through the remainder of last night’s voyage and the carriage ride today, Eve had maintained calm. But as the carriage approached the opening in the thick, stone wall surrounding the castle, it seemed they were headed straight into a great gaping maw…and into Lord Rushton’s iron grasp.

After their interlude last night, Eve hadn’t seen him until they boarded the carriage this morning. He gave no indication that he remembered touching her so intimately—or that he was in the least bit affected by the encounter. Eve, on the other hand, had lain awake, her body plagued with memories of his weight on top of her, his warm mouth devouring hers, his muscled shoulders beneath her fingers and his strange parting words: I will shoot the next man who implies you spread your legs for any man who asks. Her throat went dry. When would the effect of those words diminish?

“I had a feeling you would like it.”

Lord Rushton’s voice drew Eve’s attention back to her surroundings and she saw him smile at Grace, amusement in his eyes.

“It would be impossible not to,” Grace said. “I have never been to a castle before.”

His gaze shifted onto Eve. “What do you think of Ravenhall, Miss Crenshaw?”

She looked out the window again. Vines crept up the massive stone walls, leaves sprouting with the warmer weather of spring. No sun shone and a mist hung in the air, but that only added to the sense that the castle wasn’t simply stone piled upon the mossy ground, but that it had somehow sprung up from the earth as a living part of her.

“It is lovely.”

“You don’t seem pleased,” he said.