He caught her hands as she lifted the shirt. “Elspeth, lassie, are ye sure?”
A huff of disbelieving laughter escaped. “Brody, I’ve been sure for five years. I want you.” She cast him a flirtatious glance under her eyelashes. “You’ve led me to believe you want me, too. Or have you deceived me, my handsome laddie?”
He laughed and wrenched his shirt from her hands and over his head. “Never let it be said.”
She paused to appreciate the sight of his bare chest, hard and lean and covered with a scattering of silky black curls. With shaking hands, she unbuttoned her stylish jacket and, showing little respect for Sandra’s skill and hard work, flung it across Brody’s discarded plaid.
Brody fell to his knees before her. “Lift your foot.”
Deftly he removed her half-boots, stockings and skirt, tossing them across the carpet. He caught her buttocks and dragged her forward, burying his face in her stomach. While she’d loved him for a long time, adult appetites were newer to her. Through all the feverish kisses and caresses of the last weeks, she thought she’d come to understand what it was to want a man. But only now when she stood in her undergarments in her husband’s embrace did she really recognize the power of a woman’s need.
“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned into the petticoats covering the soft curve of her belly.
Something loosened and liquefied deep inside her, and heat began to throb in the secret hollows of her body. She combed her fingers through his hair, as she quivered with an agonizing mixture of tenderness and desire for this man she’d married. The bed loomed behind them, the bed where he’d take her innocence before too much longer.
“I love you, Brody,” she whispered and bent to kiss his ruffled dark crown. He tilted his head and met her lips. Kissing her all the time, he came to his feet. At first, gentleness was paramount, before passion inevitably took charge. A passion fed through a hundred fleeting encounters, where all that had kept her chaste was the chance of discovery.
With breathtaking competence, he removed the last of her clothing, sending corset, shift, petticoats and drawers drifting to the floor. Each brush of his hands on her skin stoked her restless longing for more.
“Oh, my,” she sighed, even as she tried to cover her sex and her breasts.
He laughed with the fondness that had been among the first hints that his feelings were changing—that, and his penchant for kissing her whenever he had the chance. “Have I made ye shy?”
She blushed like fire and avoided those avid green eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Brody stepped back, his hands loose at her waist, and surveyed her with a thoroughness that only intensified the warmth in her cheeks—and elsewhere.
“Don’t be. It’s charming.” He laughed again. “Ye need bigger hands.”
Ruefully she glanced down. She wasn’t managing to hide much of her lavish bosom. That dratted shortbread. “Blast.”
“Won’t ye let me see you?” His brogue was thicker than ever, always a sign of overmastering emotion. “I’ve dreamed of having ye naked in my arms.”
Elspeth raised uncertain
eyes to meet his and found nothing but wonder and desire there. Thank goodness, he’d already made it clear he was mad about her abundant curves. “Have you?”
“Of course.”
“These collywobbles must seem mad when you’ve touched me so often before.”
As if he couldn’t bear to look away, he went back to studying her bosom. “This is better.”
On a couple of occasions after those shocking moments in the library, he’d fondled and kissed her breasts. She trembled to recall the thrill of his fingers playing with her nipples, nipples now tight and aching. Even the brush of her own hand across the hard peaks had her thinking sin.
“You look like you want to eat me,” she said unsteadily, as the muscles at the base of her belly clenched on painful emptiness. How she wanted him.
“I’ve starved for you, Elspeth. You’re lovely, and I adore you.”
The words quietened the butterflies performing acrobatics in her stomach. Slowly she lifted her hands away from her body and straightened until she stood proudly before him.
Elspeth discovered how glorious it was, to have a man stare at her as if she were a goddess. A shaky inhalation expanded that imposing chest when he stepped back to see her better. Nerves fluttered back to life as his gaze devoured her nakedness, but she tilted her chin and made herself stand still as a statue.
“Take down your hair, my darling,” he said hoarsely, his hands opening and closing at his sides.
As her clumsy fingers slid the pins from her hair, she watched his face. Her trepidation ebbed. While she saw flaring heat, she also saw raw need. Because of his worldly experience, Brody had always seemed ahead of her in this game. Tonight, their love for one another placed them on the same level.
As the waves of long, brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, it took no special act of courage for her to catch his hand and place it on her breast. “Touch me, Brody.”