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She stood in silence for a breath, shocked she could hear her own thoughts for a change. A short hallway sat before her, five steps deep at most, with two opposite closed doors. She chose the right door first. A simple black iron latch held the door closed, and she lifted it, pushing on the heavy oak planks. The hinges creaked, filling the hallway as she shoved the door open. If anyone needed to find her, all they would have to do was follow the echoing wail of metal scraping against metal.
She peeked her head into the room. Small and dark with only three arrowslits letting light into the room. Definitely not a solar.
A hand snaked around her waist and dragged her backward.
With a scream sputtering from her throat, her feet left the ground. Another hand clamped across her mouth, cutting her scream.
“It took you far too long to make it up here.” Reiner’s voice, low, whispered in her ear.
She twisted in his arm, a screech on her lips. “You’re supposed to be hunting. You scared me half to Hades.”
Still holding her in the air, he walked backward into the room across the hall. “And you have driven me as mad as the devil the past three days.”
He set her on her feet, his lips quick to her neck, warm heat instantly prickling her skin. She couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. “Mad, you say?”
“Utter bedlam.” His lips worked down her neck to the bare of her shoulder next to her cap sleeve. “Having to sleep in another room than you. Every blasted second we are awake being commandeered by the insufferable masses below.”
She laughed, her fingers squeezing his shoulders as she angled her neck to allow him better access to her skin. “You were the one that wanted the appearance of the utmost respectability—to obtain the special license. I am more than happy to acknowledge that we’ve already been married in a very proper Scottish wedding by a very proper Scottish baker.”
He chuckled into her skin, a low hearty rumble. “But that gains us nothing as far as the smugglers are concerned. I need Falsted to make his move. He’s already nervous as all hell, watching you, wondering what game it is you’re playing. I need him to break and give up the man above him. And for that, he needs to think we are about to marry and he will soon go down in flames. So no. No acknowledging our very proper Scottish wedding or he will think the game is already over. As of now, he still believes he has a chance of continuing forth with his treacherous activities without anything befalling him.”
“Does he still think I am his puppet?”
“I believe so. I have painted myself to be a besotted fool when it comes to you.”
She twisted away from his lips. “You’re not?”
He chuckled, jerking her body back into him, his mouth ravenous on her skin. “It is not a hard role to play.”
His head lifted from her skin and he met her gaze. “Plus—beyond all of that—I want you to become my wife with the utmost propriety. I don’t want a single haughty nose ever to be turned up when it comes to you. And there are far too many supercilious wives here with their doors cracked at night waiting to witness the slightest slip of impropriety.”
“So all here are not part of the smuggling ring?”
He shook his head. “Most aren’t. Most are here for the free food and hunting and lodging.” He leaned down, his lips capturing hers and kissing her thoroughly. He pulled slightly up. “But many of the smugglers like to mix amongst the upper crust of society, so my house parties bode well for them.”
She looked at him blankly.
“What?”
“I’ve lost any and all thoughts of smuggler schemes and can now only think on raiding one thing.” A wicked smile curved her lips as her hands dropped between them and she worked the buttons on the front flap of his riding breeches.
“Please tell me you mean my member.”
“I do.” She pushed him backward toward the settee sitting below a leaded glass window on the far side of the room as she shoved his britches down over the strong muscles of his backside.
The back of his calves hit the front of the faded, but once splendid blue silk upholstery. She nudged him downward and slipped onto his lap, straddling his legs.
“This is the best hunting I’ve had in years.”
She caught his face between her hands. “You mean the best hunting ever.”
“I do.” He leaned forward, nipping her chin and then his lips dropped to the bare expanse of her chest above her bodice. “I stand corrected, again.”
She didn’t wait for his hands to bare her breasts, instead, dragging down the front of her muslin dress, stays and chemise, her thumbs gliding over her own nipples, readying herself for him.
She’d learned during the past days it drove him mad when she touched herself. Slow. Torturous.
A groan rumbled from his chest and he wrapped his hands around her backside, yanking her into him, his engorged cock grinding though her skirts.
