Page 83 of The Witch of Threadneedle Street

He shuddered, his eyes closing, and then he collapsed on one elbow and dropped his mouth to nuzzle her neck as the last vestiges of pleasure simmered between them.

At last, he fell back to her side, and Moll lifted her hand to run a fingertip over his stubbled jaw. “I can feel so many things with you,” she whispered.

He chuckled and moved, draping one strong thigh over her legs. “Aye, ye’ll only feel more, I assure ye, lass. ‘Twas far too quick, this time.”

Too quick? Was it possible to extend such pleasure? She smiled in anticipation and burrowed closer against his chest.

“Ye belong with me,” he said softly and then chuckled.

“What is it?” she asked, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers.

“I used to call myself a lone wolf. Never did I think I’d enjoy a hearth, a home, with a loving woman in my bed,” he confessed as she felt him smile into her hair. “But with that lot on the bed and soon this…” his voice trailed away as his hand slid over her belly to anchor possessively between her legs, leaving no doubt as to what he meant. “I’m now a hound smothered by pups. Now I see—nay prefer—the strength of a pack.” He inhaled and slid his hand lower between her thighs. “You’re a witch to be sure, lass.”

She smiled, her blood already stirring at the intimate touch of his hand. Her own child. With Taran. Theirs. She wanted it as clearly as he.

Then, his words intruded on her thoughts. Lone wolf? She’d heard that before…from Bertha. The children await ye. Have no fear, take them all. Aye, the more the merrier. ‘Twill only melt his heart all the faster, aye? He thinks he’s a lone wolf. Pah!

Moll held her breath. The old woman had been speaking of Taran all along…how had she known?

“What is it, lass?” he rumbled in her hair.

Moll smiled and turned in his arms. “’Tis nothing,” she whispered.

She pushed him onto his back, dropping both hands on his chest layered with muscle as she slowly straddled his hips. “I’m afraid I shall disappoint you, my lord.”

He lifted a curious brow as his large hands dropped onto her thighs, pulling her down, hard, onto his flesh. “How?”

“You’ll be finding little sleep this week,” she whispered.

Already, they began moving in the timeless rhythm of love.

He drew a long, pleasurable breath.

“Aye,” was all he said.