He kissed her chin, her throat, the broad expanse of her cleavage exposed in the yellow gown’s low neckline. Down below, she strained against him. “Oh, my God.” She wiggled forward, wanting him, craving him. She needed him to fill her. “Now, Trick. Please.”
With a low groan, he shoved his hips closer, and the cage swung away.
Suddenly bereft, she hung there in space—such a loss, the heat of his body. When the cage swung back, she released the bars to grip him tightly.
“Hell,leannan, this won’t work.”
“It has to.” A fire burned inside her—how instantly it had flamed! She hadn’t known it could happen so fast. She wrapped her legs around him, straining closer, a hot ache in the place she wanted him to be.
As her hands roamed his back, she groaned, irked to find so much clothing covering his body. A surcoat, a shirt, a cravat around his neck where her lips wanted to nip. “Your skin,” she whispered, nipping his earlobe instead. “I want to touch you.”
She tugged at the knot at his throat, managing to loosen it, ripping at the laces beneath. But the placket wouldn’t allow enough access to make her happy, so she tugged the shirt out of his breeches in the back, slipping her hands up underneath.
“Sweet Mary, lass.” He rocked his hips closer again.
And the cage moved right out from under her.
The forward force of her body made him stumble back, but he managed not to drop her or fall. She clung to him, arms and legs wrapped tight.
“Hang on,” he grated out. Capturing her mouth in a kiss, he walked forward, every movement an exquisite friction in that small unclothed area where her body met his. By the time he sat her on the rack, she was gasping for breath. He eased her onto her back and made to climb up—but the ancient, rickety contraption shuddered beneath them.
At the ominous sound of cracking wood, she twisted and jumped off, having to rip her skirt free of a large splinter. She frantically glanced around. Once this space had been filled with nice, solid chests, but now nothing was left to support them.
“The floor is dirt,” she moaned.
“Easy, lass.” Reaching for her, he raised a devilish brow. “We’ve no need to lie down.” His hands warm on her shoulders, he backed her up until she was flush against the wall.
She couldn’t envision how it would work, but she didn’t care, so long as they could finish what they’d started. And when he took her mouth in a heated kiss, thoughts fled her head entirely. As the caress deepened, she raised her arms, intending to wrap them around his neck—and one of her hands hit an unhinged manacle.
At the muted thud, they both looked up, their ragged breathing the only sounds in the deserted dungeon. The expression in his eyes made her heart leap, made her remember him holding her hands above her head in the tunnel at Duncraven. Watching for his reaction, she wriggled her wrist into the open oval.
“Nay.” His hungry gaze went down to her raised breasts, then back up, darting between the manacles on either side of her head.
Her own gaze followed.
“Nay,” he said again. A more frustrated laugh she’d never heard. “It may be every man’s fantasy, but you’re not ready for that,leannan.”
She was burning for him, and never in her life had she imagined herself fulfilling a man’s fantasy. “Please,” she whispered. She wrapped her free arm around his neck but left her other hand half-cuffed as she went to her toes for another kiss.
The kiss deepened, and she could feel his heart pounding against her breasts, her own blood rushing to match the wild cadence. “Please,” she repeated against his lips.
A soft murmur vibrated from his body into hers, a sound of capitulation mixed with unbridled lust that made her knees threaten to buckle under her.
Lifting his head, he locked his gaze on hers. “Do you trust me,leannan?” His amber eyes fluttered closed and then opened, burning into hers, the most fervent, forthright gaze she’d ever seen. “Do you trust me?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed.
And she did. No matter that he robbed Puritans and didn’t seem to trusther, in his own unique way he was the most honorable man she’d ever known. It seemed he always—always—wanted to do the right thing.
She waited, willing him to believe her, until finally he reached up. Cold metal circled her wrist, a grating creak in her ear and abangas the manacle closed.
“Oh, my God, Trick.”
“It’s not locked. Just tell me if you want out.” When she didn’t cry off, he lifted her, fitting her legs around his middle before he reached for her other arm. “The offer stands—I can have the cuffs open before the words pass your lips.” His voice turned hurried, frenzied. “Keep your legs wrapped,leannan. I don’t want any weight on your hands. I would never, ever want to hurt you.”
Snap.
Another bracelet around her second wrist, black iron instead of amber. Pressing her against the wall while he reached between their bodies, he tugged her skirts up and tucked the hem behind her shoulders. And with a quick upward thrust, he drove into her.
