Read Online Scottish Brides by Christina Dodd - Free Book Online

bodies. If it were up to him, he would stay inside her forever, bringing them both to passion’s explosive release time and again. But the sun had set. Light was rapidly fading. He glanced at the closed trapdoor. He didn’t know Sima’s plan—hadn’t even known she had one—but he would guess she had no intention of letting them out tonight. What was it she had said as she urged them to eat hearty? ’ Tis a long time until mornin’, and a fair climb t’ the top o’ the tower.
    He’d been too angry to guess her plot then . . . but if he had, he would have been a willing participant. Somehow, no matter how vigorously Andra denied him, he had been determined to find out what he had done—or said—that had frightened her.
    His hand flexed where it rested on the sweet curve of her buttock. He’d found out, all right.
    He’d shouldered a measly few of her responsibilities. He’d been fool enough to try and make himself indispensable.
    Now, as the heat of the day died, she shivered, and he knew that, no matter how he wished to settle this matter of their union before she could recover her composure, he had to care for her while he could see well enough to do what must be done. “Rest, darling, and let me care for you.”
    Her head half rose off the bench in instinctive rejection.
    He was taking responsibility again. Well, she would just have to get used to it. Pressing his hand to her cheek, he said again, “Rest.”
    She sighed and relaxed. Perhaps because she had begun to accept him as her consort. Most likely because she was too tired to struggle.
    Swinging one leg over the bench, he stood, strode to the trapdoor, and pulled on it. As he expected, as he hoped, the lock held firm. They had to remain here for the night. He had the night to convince her she was his.
    Working quickly, he gathered the lengths of cloth Andra had dropped beside the trunk. In the corner, he made a mattress of tartans and a bolster for their heads. He folded two at the foot to use as covers. Pressing his hand on the softness of the makeshift bed, he decided that once he placed Andra between him and the wall, she would not get to leave until they had finished this affair—to his satisfaction this time.
    Making his way to Andra’s side, he found her sitting, weaving just a little, wrapped in the sheepskin. “That’s good.” He slid his arm under her knees and across her back and lifted her. ”We’ll use this beneath us, too.” Laying her down in the middle of the makeshift bed, he spread out the sheepskin, then climbed in beside her.
    He felt her trying to gather herself to do something—what, he couldn’t imagine, but it was always that way with Andra. Whatever he couldn’t imagine, she did, and he wouldn’t let the reins change hands now. So he pulled the covers over them and said, “It was just as you suspected.”
    â€œWhat was?”
    Slipping his arm beneath her neck, he hugged her head to his chest. “The marriage kilt was just an excuse to come to you.” He heard her draw breath, but he continued without pause. “I’m grateful to Lady Valéry for that, although I imagine she sent me off for no other reason than the fact she was heartily sick of having me stomp around her home. You see, the recording of Scottish traditions is the only thing that moves me to passion.” With his hand on her back, he urged her closer. “Or, shall I say, the only thing that had formerly moved me to passion.”
    Andra cleared her throat before she spoke, and she sounded tremulous and unsure. “I haven’t said, but I think it’s a noble thing you do.”
    It didn’t surprise him that she avoided any mention of his ardor for her, and it much pleased him that she snuggled against him without a struggle. Her mind had not accepted the truth of her new circumstances, but her body understood