Rogue Scot (Brethren of Stone 4)

She blinked as his lips sucked in her lobe. She was having trouble focusing. What did that mean? Safe?

* * *

This was a mistake. Her words and the feel of her were filling him with a heat that was threatening to blaze out of control. Wild thoughts were pulsing through him. He’d take her for a wife. Keep her tucked away in their home, safe and secure. He’d simply protect her so that nothing bad would happen to her.

It was an outrageous plan that went against everything he’d believed but thought of her in another man’s bed? Well, that was so much worse. Jealousy pulsed through him as his lips grazed down the V of her dress.

“Promise to be safe?” she asked pulling his hair in the most satisfying way.

“Not take undo risks.” He flicked open the first button on her gown, wanting to feel more of her skin.

As he placed a kiss on the bare flesh, she arched against him. “You promised we wouldn’t,” she forced the words out, her voice breathy, even as she pushed against him.

“How about I make you a new promise,” he said as he opened another button. “In the morning, I’ll have the first mate marry us. We’re still in Scotland. Then ye’ll have a husband whether we find the dowry or no. And I promise to see Mary wed to a suitable match.” He slid another pearl button out of the thick wool fabric in which it was nestled. Her chemise was now in the way and he let out a dissatisfied growl. He wanted more of her skin.

She used her purchase on his hair to pull his face up until she was looking down into his eyes. “You don’t want to marry.”

True. But she nibbled her lip in that vulnerable way and before he knew it, he’d captured her lips again with his own, kissing away her worry. She was soft underneath him, so malleable and open that he swept his tongue into her mouth, drinking in her sweet taste, like plums or peaches on a summer day. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted but when he lifted his head, her eyes were glazed and her mouth puffy and raspberry red from his attention.

No, no other man would have this. Bridget was his. “I’ll make an exception if you swear to not take undo risk, if you keep yourself and any children we might have safe.”

She blinked several times. “Of course I would keep our children safe. What mother wouldn’t?”

He reached for her face and held it between his hands. He needed her to understand this. “Not just regular care. I need to know ye’ll be vigilant. That ye’ll stay out dangerous situations and that ye’ll keep our children protected.”

She slid her hands down his neck to his chest. Then, she pushed. He hadn’t been expecting it and he lifted off her long enough for her to shimmy away. “The promise you ask for scares me,” she said as she stood. “I’m not sure I can keep it and I don’t make ones that I can’t.” Then she spun about and fled the room.

For a moment, Matt, his hands still holding himself off the bed, just watched her go. But then he pushed himself up to standing. He was sorry for Bridget, but it was too late. He’d already decided that she belonged with him. A shift had happened inside and there was no changing back. If she wouldn’t take extra care then he’d have to be far more vigilant with his watch over her.

Chapter Twelve

Bridget stomped down the hall, balling her fists at her side. She would not cry but water pricked at her eyes from the inside. He wanted her but not in the way she needed. He wanted a caged bird, she could hear what he wasn’t exactly saying. Safe meant trapped.

It wasn’t that his offer wasn’t tempting. His bed would be a delicious place to spend the cold winter and Mary would be provided for.

But the one advantage to her father sending her away was freedom. She was stretching her wings and discovering who she was without an overbearing man bleeding the life out of her. Granted Matt cared for her while her father did not, but the end result was the same.

She hit her thigh with her fist. Why couldn’t he have just asked her to be his wife? She would have said yes.

A hand at her waist stopped her thoughts as she was spun about, running into a hard chest. She held up her palms to slow the collision, only to feel the hard muscles of his abdomen underneath her fingers. Without meaning to, her hands flexed, running along the ridges that were only covered by the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he grated out, his warm, tempting lips, pressing to the shell of her ear. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Come back to bed.”

His other hand slid into her hair, grasping her scalp as he pressed tingly kisses down the column of her neck. “I can’t,” she whispered her voice shaking. “I’ve been caged all my life.”

“I won’t cage you, darling.” He whispered. Then he slid his hand down her back, and over her rear. As he cupped the cheek of her bottom he pressed her into his hard male flesh. The touch made her ache in need and she shivered against him. Curiosity warred with her good sense and her need to feel him finally won out. Reaching down between their bodies, she explored the evidence of his desire. They both groaned at the touch.

“You swear it,” she asked just before his lips claimed hers. She should have told him no. Demanded he step away. But desire was winning. The kiss lengthened and Bridget felt her will to resist draining as her passion consumed her. Finally, she pulled away. “Swear you won’t lock me away in the name of safety. I know what happened with your brother frightened you, but I can’t live that way.”

He paused for a moment, his face shuttering. “Does saving ye from sea storms count a locking ye away?”

That made her relax. Her shoulders drooped as her body melted into his. “No, that is absolutely acceptable behavior.”

“Ye’ll marry me then?” He leaned his forehead against hers.

Licking her lips, she realized she was still grasping his member. A tiny giggle escaped her lips at the absurdity of the situation. She’d imagined the moment a man would propose many times. Perhaps she was in a garden or a park. He’d hold her hand, kiss the back of it, and swear they belonged together.

In her wildest dreams, she’d never imagined a scenario where she would be in a dark boat, in the midst of a wild storm, with a strong and hard-headed man who proposed as she stroked his… Gads, this was interesting. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”