Page 54 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

She seemed supremely unconcerned about his cavalier behavior. Her arms had come up to wrap about his neck trustingly.

“I’ve instructed the guard to accompany you whenever you leave the castle,” Mason told her tightly. “As you continue to gad about without due concern for your welfare.”

A pucker appeared between her brows. “Yes, Husband,” she said, sounding puzzled. “If you think it necessary.” She was peering at his face, trying to determine his mood. He steadfastly avoided meeting her eyes. “Where are we going?” she asked, giving up and resting her head against his shoulder.

“Our bedchamber,” he answered abruptly. “’Tis the consequence for rising before me.”

“Oh?” she asked, caressing the back of his neck lightly with her fingers. She snuggled closer, obviously not too concerned about the consequences, he noted wryly.

He rounded the corner, ignoring the startled gazes of the servants and booted their bedroom door open. One of the maids was still making the bed. “Out,” he said loudly, as the maid hurriedly smoothed the pillows and then scurried past them with scarlet cheeks.

“Thank you,” Linnet called politely after her. The door slammed shut. Mason dropped her onto the mattress and started tearing off his clothes, suddenly desperate to join with her. “Toss up your skirts,” he said at her as he dragged his tunic up over his head.

“Wait!” panted Linnet and started to crawl off the bed.

Mason’s hand shot out to catch her by the ankle and drag her back into the center of the mattress. He frowned at her as he unlaced his crotch. “Don’t move.”

“Could I just . . . ”she scooted across the mattress and dropped onto the floor. “It won’t take a moment,” she gabbled as she started searching in her chest of drawers for something.

He watched her with growing impatience. “Linnet,” he growled. His ardor was not abating one bit. He wanted her now.

“Here it is!” She held up a small jar, her face flushed with triumph.

“What the hells is it?” he asked with sudden misgiving.

“Oh, well,” she swallowed. “’Tis just a little something Mother Ames gave to me . . . for my . . . for my chest.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s naught amiss with your breathing Linnet,” he said a little sharper than he intended.

He didn’t want to rub goose fat or some other quackery onto her pretty tits, though he did want to get his hands on them. She bit her lip and he felt suddenly like an ill-mannered lout. After all, it wasn’t her fault her family had turned her into a malingerer. And here he was treating her like some common bar wench! He sighed, his patience wearing thin.

“Very well, bring it here,” he said in a long-suffering voice. “But take your dress off.”

She started fumbling with her lacings and he stripped off his boots and chausses, standing only in his braies, which tented with his arousal. “Come here.”

She came closer, not quite meeting his gaze. “It has to be rubbed into my chest, fifty rotations in total,” her voice was slightly strangled as her face went up in flames.

“Is that so?” He was yanking at her laces now. “Lift up your arms.” He tugged her dress up over her head, leaving her standing before him in her shift, slim but shapely. And all his. He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to lower your neckline,” he told her practically as he took the small pot from her hand. He dipped his fingers into the ointment and sniffed them. “Smells like honey,” he commented with a frown, turning to find his wife now kneeling on the bed before him, her shift slipped down to her waist, her perky breasts completely bared to him.

Her pink nipples stiffened under his incredulous gaze. He almost dropped the pot. She was gazing off fixedly to some point to the left.

“If you could—um, rub it in. Anticlockwise is best apparently . . . ” she swallowed and closed her eyes as Mason stood there, dry mouthed, staring at her.

If it was anyone else other than Linnet he would think she was trying to seduce him. But he knew that couldn’t possibly be the case with his sheltered little bride, so instead he took a deep breath and climbed up on the bed beside her, before settling back on his haunches to steel himself for the ordeal. She let out a small squeak when his fingers made contact with the delicate skin between her breasts, rubbing ever so gently in a small circular motion.

“Here?” he asked. Even to his own ears his voice sounded husky.

Keep it together Mason! For fuck’s sake, can’t you even rub some innocuous ointment into her chest without wanting to pounce on her?

“No,” she corrected him breathlessly. “That’s not right . . . If you could just . . . ” Her hand flew over his and, taking a deep breath, she drew it directly over her left breast. “Here.” He let out a groan at this and her eyes flew to his, looking stricken. “I—I’m sorry,” she apologized. “If you don’t want to . . . ”

“It’s not that,” he corrected her swiftly and, unable to help himself, swiped his thumb across one perfectly pink nipple.

She made a stifled sound which made his cock twitch but she didn’t complain at his licentious treatment. She hadn’t mentioned rubbing it into her nipples, he thought dizzily as he curled his honey-slick fingers around her delicate, breast and slowly circled her soft flesh.

“Like this?” he asked in a low gruff voice.

“Oh yes,” she answered sweetly and again, the sound went straight to his dick. He winced slightly as he lengthened and grew harder. But really under such stimulation, who could blame him?