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He answered her meek inquiry with a gasp of laughing disbelief. “Sweetheart, I would like nothing more, but I thought you’d want to wait until we are wed bef—”
The words were silenced as she pulled him down to kiss him again. The tingling between her legs mounted as she felt the blunt tip of his shaft graze her entrance. She wriggled, seating him more firmly against herself.
With a groan of surrender, he at last thrust, fully sinking his thick shaft deep into her slick, tight passage.
Her squeak of momentary displeasure was quickly transformed into a sigh of contentment as the empty place within her was filled by his heat and hardness. Every throbbing inch of him was buried inside her, and it was the most fulfilling sensation she’d ever experienced. Holding him there, she savored a sudden feeling of fierce ownership.
He was hers. All of her fears were meaningless while she held him thus. If she was doomed to suffer heartbreak in the years to come, she would at least have this moment.
And there would be the children and their home to care for. Mama had done it. She had survived.
So will I…
When he moved again, such thoughts were lost as the friction sent little ripples of mild pain mingled with intense pleasure radiating outward from her core. Slowly, he pulled back, and she felt the tide withdraw. As he sank into her once more, pleasure again flooded over her like an ocean wave, and she cried out as the delicious fullness returned.
Such tight, wet heat! Henry sweated with the effort to restrain himself, to stave off the inevitable explosion as he sank into her depths again and again. Her pleasure was like a drug, increasing his own enjoyment beyond anything he’d ever known. He forced himself to hold back, waiting.
At last she shuddered, her head rocking back, lashes fluttering, lips parting in a soundless cry as her sheath tightened around him in a series of sweet, powerful spasms.
With a strangled shout, he withdrew almost fully, and then sank back into her heat, gripped by shockwaves of ecstasy as his seed rushed into her welcoming embrace. Afraid of hurting her, he sought to withdraw almost immediately, but Sabrina, still in the throes of her pleasure, would have none of it.
Slipping his hand between them, he gently stroked the place where their flesh was joined, prolonging her bliss. She cried out hoarsely as her passage convulsed around him once more. To his great astonishment, he felt another corresponding pull deep within his loins an instant before the unmitigated joy of release took him once more.
Breathless, vision blurring and arms trembling, he rolled over and lay back, pulling her atop him.
The sun was a good deal lower in the sky when he awoke.
Bloody hell. They had less than three hours before nightfall. Looking down at the woman nestled at his side, fast asleep, he knew it had been worth the delay.
Gently, he shook her, caressing the strands of fiery hair away from her beloved face. Faint violet crescents lay beneath her eyes; she must be exhausted. “Come, we must hurry,” he whispered as she stirred. “With any luck, we can cross the border before midnight. Once we’re married, we’ll ride to Brampton and stay there until dawn.”
“Why not just stay at Gretna Green?” she asked wearily, eyeing her horse with ambivalence as she sat up.
Guilt pricked him, along with sympathy. He was sick of riding, too. The beasts had no ill intent toward their aching backsides and bruised thighs, but knowing this didn’t make the thought of remounting the animals any more appealing. “We dare not. Once Fairford discovers my little deception, he might ride through the night to try and overtake us. I know you’re tired, but we have to get there quickly, marry, and then immediately head east.”
“But why run after we’re married?” she asked. “It isn’t as if he can protest. We’ve already—” She blushed furiously and looked at her toes. “There’s nothing for him to pursue now.”
“Except revenge,” he muttered. “His pride has been sorely pricked, Sabrina. And if he is capable of murder, then there is no knowing what he might do should he catch us out here. It’s too big a risk. Once we’re in London, he’ll think twice before making any foolish attempts.”
Rummaging around in the saddlebag, he passed her a hunk of bread and broke off a piece of cheese to follow it. “Here, have a bite. I’ll open the wine. Water is good for quenching thirst, but this might make the ache in your muscles easier to forget.”
“I cannot wait to get back to London,” she said, making a sour face as she took a bite of bread, chasing it with a swallow of warm wine.
“What happened to your sense of adventure?” he chuckled. “Where is the woman who ran off in the night, not once but twice? Come! You can rest all you like on the journey to Brighton. There’s not much to do on a boat except dream, feel the wind, and watch the waves.”
Grumbling under her breath, she finished the light repast and, with his help, again mounted the horse.
OVER THE LOW hills they traveled, alternating between a canter and a trot, crossing the occasional stream, passing the greater town of Carlisle, and avoiding the tiny settlements nestled in the sheltered areas beyond it. When they entered the Eden’s floodplain, the ground grew flat, enabling them to quicken their pace.
The wind picked up, and Sabrina caught a hint of salt tang on the breeze.
“Not far now,” Henry told her, coming alongside. “See those lights there in the distance? That’s the main village. When we arrive, let me do the talking.”
In spite of her exhaustion, her tired body experienced a peculiar jolt of nervous energy. In approximately an hour, she would be Lady Montgomery.
As much as she’d fought against this, she could not help feeling joy at the sight of the village ahead.
Gretna was an average village, looking no different than the ones they’d passed along the way. Henry led them past houses, entering the tiny marketplace. An elderly man outside a tavern pointed with a knobbly finger when asked for directions to the nearest kirk. As they trotted away, he called out: “Guid luck, laddie! You’ll need it, wi’ tha’ red hair o’ hers!”
