Page 44 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“Would that not be somewhat unconventional?” she asked when he released her and started shifting down the bed, kissing her sweet little breasts and then down her flat stomach. “Oh,” she exclaimed as if the thought had suddenly occurred to her. “Is this part of our bargain?” She tried to sit up, but he grasped her hips firmly and pulled her back down the mattress.

“Bargain?” he asked distractedly.

“For our two—I mean, three sons.”

“Yes,” he said roughly. As far as Mason was concerned the time for talking was done.

“I see,” she agreed breathlessly.

He smirked. His sheltered little bride saw nothing, but it was just as well. In truth, a man might ask such a thing of his mistress, not his wife, but he didn’t give a damn. The thought of returning to the castle and finding her awaiting his pleasure, filled him with satisfaction. He was master here and his word should be law. He buried his face between her thighs and feasted on the sweetness there. When she tried to twist away, he took a firm grasp of her soft thighs and held her in place for his voracious mouth. Her legs trembled, her fingers gripped his hair and soon she was panting his name in helpless appeal, but he wouldn’t give it to her.

“When I’m inside you this time,” he reminded her as he slid back up the bed. She was eager this time, almost as eager as he when he settled over her. “Linnet,” he breathed. Then he thrust inside her and they both gasped. “Are you . . . ?”

“I’m well,” she hastened to assure him. “Please don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to stop.”

He heard her gasp again and then her hands were travelling restlessly over his back. “Please Mason,” she whispered. “I want you to move like last time.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, luxuriating in the feel of her all around him, clasping him tight. “I will,” he promised groaning. “Just give me a minute. You feel so good, Linnet.”

“So do you,” she whispered back.

He wanted to be gentle and considerate, but he knew he wasn’t going to be. Then he remembered he hadn’t been last time. I want you to move like last time, she’d said. His eyes snapped open to look at her, but it was too dark to catch her expression. “Like last time?” he echoed, not quite believing his own ears. He’d been angry last time. Jealous, his conscience corrected him. He’d been a boorish lout. Loud and energetic. He hadn’t held back.

Her hands slid down his ribs to grip his hips, sparking his lust even further. “Yes,” she said huskily. “Please, Mason.”

And that was it. His restraint was gone. With a smothered oath, he pinned her knee to the sheets and let her have it. She was so tight, so responsive, he had to grit his jaw against the glorious sensation so he would last. This was really no way to take a wife, swiving her like a lusty tavern wench, but lucky for him, Linnet was bloody clueless of the fact. She clung to him, she made approving, encouraging sounds and—glory of glories—she took it all and rewarded him by coming on his cock with an enthusiasm that triggered his own. Shit. He even liked how she sobbed his name.

He wasn’t sure how much later it was when she shifted and turned her head to kiss his shoulder. He stroked a hand down her side, taking comfort from her nearness, her body draped on his. He kept his eyes closed to prolong the blissful stupor. He didn’t think he’d ever felt quite this content before in all his twenty-eight years. He had never had a woman that had made him want to tarry in the aftermath. But Linnet was different. Not just some tryst between the sheets. He was just drifting off to sleep again when she said something that shattered all of his euphoric happiness in just seven words.

“I think I should come to court with you when you go back.”

He grimaced. Bloody hells! “No.”

“But—”

“No, Linnet. Absolutely not.”

“But people are saying things about you and about our marriage that I don’t like.”

He cracked one eye open to find she had raised her head from his chest and was looking down at him with a concerned look on her face.

“Damn it, I don’t care,” he said. “And neither should you.”

“Not care if my husband is being slandered?” she demanded.

He opened both eyes. “I told you, I don’t care what people say about me. Court’s rife with gossip. Even if I lived a life of utter virtue someone there would spread horseshit about me.”

She blinked at this. “Is it really that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Then why—?”

“Linnet, I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he told her sternly. “Put your head back here,” he tapped his chest. “And go to sleep.”

She frowned at him. “I had a warning.”