Page 36 of An Outlaw’s Desire

Nay, not just wanted. Needed.

He stopped in front of her and slowly drew off his right glove. The leather whispered as it left his skin.

“So,” he murmured. “What about you?”

Chapter Nine

Pitt closing the distance between them with purposeful strides set Blythe’s pulse racing again. As he set his gloves beside her on the bed, she trembled. Why had he removed them? Did he intend to touch her? With her hands still secured behind her, she couldn’t touch him back. How wicked of him.

She dug her fingernails into her bonds and tried to further loosen the knot.

His brows rose. Did he mock her attempts to get free?

Nay. He waited for something from her. A reply.

“What happened to you,” he asked, “in the years since we last saw each other?”

Moistening her lower lip with her tongue, she nodded. She’d intended to tell him. His gaze fixed on her mouth—a ravenous stare, as if he craved the taste of her—and she fought not to lose focus. “As you know, I left the castle because of my arranged marriage to an older lord. I did wed him.”

“I heard.” Pitt’s fingertips brushed her hair, next to her ear. She shivered. Her body ached to be free to slide her arms around him; to lean against him and listen to the strong beat of his heart. She’d never felt so complete, so fully alive, as she had with him.

He took a strand of her hair in his fingers and rubbed it with his thumb.

Would he untie her now if she asked? “Pitt—”

“Did your husband travel here with you?”

“’Twould be impossible.”

“Is he not able to travel? Is he unwell?”

“He died several months ago.”

Pitt’s hand froze. His startled gaze locked with hers. “You are a widow.”

“Aye.”

“Are you still living on the estate?”

“For now.” She sighed. “Once again, I find myself at the mercy of the crown. I do not want another arranged marriage, but I may have no choice in the matter.”

“Children?”

She shook her head.

“Sometimes ’tis the way.”

Indeed, ’twas. But, on the long nights she’d lain awake next to her lord husband, she’d wrestled with the truth of what he’d revealed to her on their wedding night: He was not physically able to get her with child.

’Twould have made no difference if she’d known of his impotence before they’d married. A union arranged by crown officials had to take place. But, while she’d stared up at the solar’s shadowed ceiling, thoughts of motherhood had tormented her, for she’d have loved to have children; even just one babe. Raising a son or daughter would have given her life a greater purpose.

“You seem sad,” Pitt murmured.

She averted her gaze. In no way could she tell him the reason for her despair.

“You wanted young ones?” His fingertips skimmed her collarbone.

Oh, the wonder of his touch. Desire kindled anew, tempting her with thoughts of his hands skimming over her, but she forced the imaginings aside.