It felt strangely right to hold her like this, though.
Resting his mouth on her pale gold hair, Ash breathed in her scent and marveled at how swiftly his attraction for her had escalated. Maura Collyer was a delectable mix of contrariness, a valiant warrior on one hand, bursting with courage and determination, and a soft, delicate female on the other. He felt a renewed stab of admiration for her daring rescue of her stallion. In her own way, she was every bit as much a rebel as any of the Wildes.
Yet nothing was going as he’d planned. Intent on exploring his sister’s legendary lovers theory, he’d considered courting Maura to see where it led, and of course, to help her in her fight with Deering.
Instead, he’d wound up aiding and abetting her theft, sleeping on an uncomfortable bed of straw in a cold barn loft, and facing the very real prospect of a frantic dash to Scotland as a fugitive.
This was not what he’d envisioned when he’d vowed to take his fate into his own hands, Ash mused wryly. Rather than shaping his destiny, he was fast losing control of it.
He’d gotten himself into an even bigger fix when it came to Maura herself. He had her in his arms now, just where he wanted her, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He was her protector now, so he couldn’t make love to her.
There was, however, no longer any doubt that he would pursue her, Ash thought as he quietly eased back from her delectable body. Something about her called to him, something that aroused the powerful, primal urge to claim her for his own.
Whether or not she was his ideal mate was less certain. He could easily see them becoming lovers. But could he imagine waking up to her every morning? Sharing a marital bed, a home, children? A future together?
And before he could address that intriguing question, he had to resolve her dilemma with Deering. He wouldn’t let Maura become an outlaw, even if for the moment he had to go along with her mad scheme. Right now, she trusted him to devise a better solution to her dilemma. Actually, a plan had begun to take shape in his mind, but he needed time to execute the details.
Meanwhile, he could make use of their forced intimacy to further his courtship, Ash decided. An opportunity he would never have had if they were safely in London.
Maura stirred restlessly just then and rolled onto her back toward him, as if seeking his warmth. His head pillowed on his arm, Ash watched her slumbering face in the morning light, admiring the fine bone structure, the ivory complexion, the sweet, ripe lips.… Her sleep was agitated, though, her expression far from relaxed.
He knew the instant she fully woke. She gave a start, as if suddenly remembering where she was, and locked gazes with him. He was so close, he could count the gold flecks in the hazel depths of her eyes.
Looking away, she shifted her position on their cloak bed and promptly winced.
“What is wrong, love?” he murmured.
“Nothing. I am just uncomfortable sleeping this way.”
“A few hours ago you were lauding the benefits of a straw bed.”
“It is not the straw. It is the pins in my hair and the tight—” She broke off without finishing.
The tight binding around her breasts, he suspected she’d meant to say. When he glanced down at her bosom buried beneath the blanket and her peddler’s coat, a flush warmed the fair skin of her cheeks.
“I should have removed my hairpins before trying to sleep,” she muttered to distract him.
When she sat up and reached for the pins, he did the same. “Allow me to help,” he offered.
Maura remained still as he probed her hair with his fingers. Finding the pins one by one, he handed them to her so that she could put them in her coat pocket. When he was done, he smoothed out her hair, relishing the feel of the luxuriant tresses.
“Now,” he said, curling his fingers over the collar of her coat. “Why don’t we see to your bindings?”
Maura’s breath caught at the huskiness in his voice, but she allowed him to draw off her coat. When he raised the hem of her shirt, however, she stopped him by grasping both his wrists. “I can manage on my own,” she insisted.
“No doubt, but there is no need for shyness. I have already seen your breasts, remember? In fact, I have tasted them.”
Flushing at the brazen reminder, Maura frowned at him. “You are utterly scandalous.”
He smiled into her eyes. “I won’t deny it. We Wildes are a scandalous lot.”
&n
bsp; His bewitching charm made her shiver with awareness, and once again she couldn’t resist him. When she released her grip on his wrists, Beaufort unwound the strip of linen around her breasts and made a soft, sympathetic sound in his throat. The binding had chafed her skin and left red marks in a dozen places.
His fingers gently traced the deep indentions on her flesh. “You have beautiful breasts … too beautiful to suffer such abuse.”
As he pressed her back into their makeshift bed, her heart began thudding in her chest. “Lord Beaufort …” she protested. “You promised not to seduce me.”