The Duke's Scottish Lass (Brethren of Stone 0.50)

Roderick gave her leg another squeeze. “Relax, Sunderland. I jest.”

Delia’s insides were turning to pudding, soft, warm, and sweet. She was melting into her chair as his hand continued his ministrations on her leg.

When the meal finally concluded, the men made to retire to the smoking room. Roderick breezed by her as they all exited and he whispered, “Meet me in the garden in a quarter hour.”

Hitching a breath, Delia pulsed with excitement. She remembered the feel of his lips on hers and anticipation filled her. “Perhaps,” she whispered back, cocking one eyebrow. He knew she was playing hard to get simply because it was their game.

He grinned back. “I am overwhelmed by your level of enthusiasm.”

“As you should be,” she bit her lip as she whispered with a giggle. Later she would worry about not allowing her feelings for him to grow. Her body ached to have his arms around her. Lord Sunderland had proven her brother’s point. She didn’t really want a fat, old earl, or even a young, silly one. Reginald’s face rose in her mind. Please tell me you wanted this for me. I am trying to be strong for your memory but I am less certain of what the correct path is.

She stepped into the ladies’ salon, where the women seated themselves in various places, chattering together. She watched the clock as she contemplated everything she had learned the past few days. Reginald had arranged this marriage because he thought Roderick was the man for her. Was Roderick correct that she owed it to her brother to be happy for them both? The clock chimed the quarter hour and Delia sprang up. “I fear I need a breath of air. Too much dinner, I think.” The words came out in a rush.

“You barely ate,” Bridget said, her eyes piercing into her.

“Oh, well, perhaps I am not feeling myself. This morning was so taxing. I’ll just take a little stroll…” She was backing toward the patio doors.

Eliza’s face flushed with guilt. “Just for a few moments,” her sister-in-law murmured.

Delia felt her own pang of guilt. Eliza had been trying to help her this morning, she shouldn’t use that against her, but Roderick’s embrace was healing her and she needed it now. “I’ll return posthaste.” And then she opened the door and softly closed it behind her as Bridget’s shrewd gaze followed her movements.

Delia hadn’t taken but two steps away from the door when she heard him. “Perhaps?”

Her hands came to her hips she opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of that when he reached for her hand and pulled her into the shadows and into his arms, bringing his lips down on hers. Then every word flew out of her head as his arms and his lips wrapped her in a cocoon of warmth.

Losing track of time, his lips came down on hers again and again until he slanted hers open and his tongue gently touched hers. A bolt of desire rocked her and she tentatively returned the touch, wanting more.

He groaned into her and then pulled away long enough to whisper, “Say you’ll be my wife.”

Her lips curved up as she pressed them to his again. “Perhaps.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat before his arms collected her against him, the onslaught of his mouth, fiercer, stronger, until she was breathless with wanting.

“Perhaps, I will leave you to Lord Sunderland’s kisses.” His mouth assaulted hers again until she moaned with wanting.

Her hand trailed down his neck, wanting to touch his skin. The collar of his shirt under his cravat stopped her touch and she gave it a frustrated tug. “Perhaps I should travel to London and join the ton for the rest of the season. I am sure many lords will want my company and my kisses—”

A jealous grumble emitted from his lips before they came down on hers again, his tongue dancing with hers until she was breathless without a thought in her head. When he finally lifted his head, his voice was low and predatory. “Only I will kiss these lips. I’ll rip those lords to pieces.”

A smile played at her mouth as she pressed even closer. His hand, which had been cradling her neck began moving down her collar bone and toward her chest. As his fingertips brushed the top of her breasts, she gasped again. “I want more,” she moaned softly, not thinking at all, just speaking.

He chuckled. “All in good time, love.”

Disappointment coursed through her, but was quickly replaced with desire as his lips touched the sensitive skin behind her ear. “You would deny me?”

“As you would me.” His lips trailed down her neck.

“Don’t be silly, you know Stone would never take me to London and certainly not to kiss other lords—“

“I mean, you won’t agree to be my wife. As it is, Stone would have my hide if he found us. I can give you no more unless under the sanctity of marriage.”

His lips were now moving down her chest and her breath came out in short gasps. “Where is my rogue?”

“Have I told you that I love your cheeky tongue? It keeps me on my toes. As I keep assuring you, your rogue is reformed. But you, my Lady Delia, are most difficult to tame.” His tongue began to swirl on the globes of her breasts where they were exposed by her dress.

She could barely think but she managed to push out, “I’m glad you like my brazenness. Not many people do.” She stopped when he nipped at her skin sending shivers of delight all through her. “Perhaps you should have tried this tact sooner, it seems to be working.”

Laughter rumbled from low in his chest. “Duly noted, my lady. And indeed, I shall try it again and again.” His tongue darted under the neckline, catching her nipple, and she tossed her head back, arching up to give him better access.