The Highlander's English Bride (The Lairds Most Likely 6) - Page 79

He raised his head. "I look like a vagabond."

The glittering amusement in his eyes made her smile back. She smoothed the tumble of rich gold hair away from his face. "You do indeed. If the London girls saw you now, they’d swoon."

"Devil take the London girls. There’s only one girl I’m interested in, and she’s much closer than London."

That was true. Wasn’t she lucky? Her smile widened. "I’m glad I came to find you."

"So am I," he said fervently.

"I’m sorry I made you wait so long."

His expression turned serious. "Emily, we weren’t ready to come together when we married. I needed to know you. You needed to know me."

"There’s still so much to discover."

His answer emerged on a husky note. "You’re my constellations and my galaxies, darling. You’re as lovely as any star in the heavens. You’re as mysterious and spectacular as the stellar clouds. Of course there’s more to discover. A mere lifetime won’t be enough to reveal your secrets."

She’d called him a poet. She’d had no idea. His words turned her into a puddle of syrup. "Oh, Hamish…"

"What a voyage awaits us, my beautiful wife. We set out with joyful hearts."

"That’s…" She swallowed to shift the giant boulder of emotion blocking her throat. "That’s a good start."

He kissed her, one of those long, rapacious kisses that made her quake with yearning. But beneath the passion, tenderness lingered. Hamish began to kiss her stomach then inched lower to the feathery, dark brown curls hiding her mound. When his mouth brushed her there, shock banished

the daze of pleasure.

"Hamish!" She wriggled away.

For the first time since he’d started this exquisite torture, she tried to cover herself. Her legs had eased apart, and he must be able to see her…there.

"I promised you joy." He caught her fluttering hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. "Let me show you."

She stared into intent blue eyes the color of a midnight sky, and shook her head as much in puzzlement as in denial. "Down there?"

A faint smile lifted his lips. "Down there."

"It seems…strange."

His hold tightened. "To a virginal maiden such as yourself, Lady Glen Lyon, much of what we do together will seem strange. At least at first."

His teasing didn’t ease her uncertainty, although the warmth in his eyes made her feel all shimmery inside. "Perhaps we should wait."

"Is this Emily Baylor, the fearless seeker after scientific truth?"

"This isn’t like plotting a planet’s orbit."

"It’s a chance to discover something new."

Without question. But she shook her head. "Would you mind if we don’t do that tonight?"

"I want to give you pleasure. I want you to feel free to enjoy the magic we make together." His voice lowered into persuasion. "I want you to trust me."

Helplessly she stared at him. How could she say no to that? Gingerly she lay down and stared up at the plaster ceiling. "I trust you."

He kissed her again. "I can’t tell you what that means, Emily."

She braced for his lips to touch her cleft, but he devoted his attention to her breasts. She’d feared all that lovely pleasure might be lost, but under his skilled hands, she was soon squirming with delight again. When he tugged at her nipples, heat sizzled all the way to that place between her legs, a place that suddenly seemed so very empty.

Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical
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