Keith whirled around at Lydia’s voice. She leaned within the doorframe, watching and appreciating the view. He wiped his forehead with his shirt as he walked past the chair upon which he’d laid it. He placed his sword on the table in front of the chair.
“I must always be prepared to defend my fair lady from dastardly pirates.”
“I can think of one pirate I’d go with willingly.”
“I’m no pirate, sweetling.” Even he couldn’t say that with a straight face, so he winked instead.
“Then I suppose you’ll never plunder or pillage me.” She waggled her eyebrows, then squealed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her inside so he could push the door closed. He backed her against it, and neither held back. She could taste the salt from his sweat on his lips, yet he still smelled of the soap he must have bathed with that morning.
It was the first time they’d truly been alone since the night Lydia slipped into his house after he returned from France. They’d agreed it was too dangerous for Lydia to traverse the distance between their homes. Keith admitted he’d followed her that night and that Oliver confront him. He even confessed to sleeping at the top of the servants’ stairs, so he could watch her chamber door.
Since they were limited to comparatively chaste kisses on the beach, they were starved for more. Their hands roamed along each other’s bodies, desiring far more than mere kisses. Keith drew Lydia’s left leg over his hip, notching his length against her core. Their hips rocked as their need grew insatiable. They both wished she’d worn pants rather than her skirt with the yards of material to gather and hold out of the way. Beautiful as she appeared in her India clothes, Keith was ready to forbid her from theghagra. An English gown wasn’t much better once he considered it. Once he wed Lydia, he would insist she only wear the trousers. He would concede to that since he knew his wife couldn’t parade around their home naked all day, every day.
He lifted her, and her legs wrapped around his waist. Their kisses bursting out of control as each step rubbed his rod against her entrance. He laid her back on the table, pushing her tunic up. She wore no chemise since herkurtawas thick enough to be appropriate without the undergarment. He kissed a line down between her breasts. The he sprinkled kisses over her left breast before toying with her nipple, licking, sucking, and flicking with his tongue. He slid his hands beneath her skirts and wrapped his forearms around the back of her thighs from beneath before tugging her hips to the edge of the table.
“Would it shock you if I made love to you here one day?”
“Only for one day? That seems rather disappointing. I should like it at least once a week. I think I shall be quite a demanding wife.”
“I shall do my best to fulfill all those demands. I would hate to leave my wife longing for anything.”
She glanced down to where their bodies would join if their clothes weren’t in the way. Her heated expression made Keith’s cock twitch. Her gazed darted up to his when she felt it move.
“Did you make it do that?”
“I can, but no. That was on its own. Your curiosity and acceptance of the intimate things we do spurs my lust, Lyddie. I fear being too rough with you when we finally make love.”
“I’ve been told I’m the sturdy sort, so you needn’t worry.”
“I will always worry about you. You mean too much to me not to take your wellbeing seriously.” He wanted to confess his feelings for her, but he wasn’t convinced her affection ran as deep as his. He feared that because she had no man to compare him with except for Oliver, she thought her feelings ran deeper than they did. That this was only infatuation. That one day she would realize she’d been too impetuous and didn’t love Keith like he was certain he loved her. From the look in her eyes as she brushed a sun-bleached lock of hair from his forehead, Keith thought his feelings weren’t unrequited.
The moment of intimacy tempted her to reassure him that she knew she was always safe with him. That she would never be too far from him since she couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from the man she loved. That she longed to do more wifely things and share her affection with him beyond moving his hair out of his eyes.
Mindful of the time slipping away, neither wished to lose themselves in thought. They wished to enjoy each other’s company. Keith’s hands ran up and down her satiny skin from knee to hip. He suckled her breast as his fingers found her wet heat. He groaned to discover her wet and ready for him. He body screamed to take possession of hers. To make her his in a way no one could refute.
They’d spoken more about being caught together, and it often seemed like their only recourse. But they would need an event that was public. If they attempted it at her family’s home, it would be too easy for her parents and Oliver to brush away their lapse in judgement. They needed somewhere that would make Lydia being compromised irrefutable.
“Let me do something for you, Keith. The last time we were alone like this, you pleasured me. I want to know how to return the favor.”
“You don’t have to, little one.”
“I know. All the more reason I want to.” She didn’t doubt a man like Oliver would insist he was entitled to all her attention in any way he wanted it. She was certain Keith would never be like that. He would never force his husbandly rights upon her like she was certain Oliver would. She feared nothing about coupling with Keith; whereas, the same act with Oliver made her wish to jump off a cliff and swim out to sea. She would meet Keith’s ship out there, and they could sail away.
Keith knew he couldn’t unfasten the front of his trousers while Lydia’s entrance rested against him. The temptation to slip inside her would undoubtedly get the better of him. They couldn’t both be bear, or Lydia wouldn’t leave his home the way she arrived. He would proclaim her his wife like his Highlander and Hebridean ancestors did with a handfast. He knew no one would recognize such a declaration here, even if it was still a legal practice in Scotland. He would do things properly lest Will shoot him or whisk his daughter away from Keith.
He pushed her skirts down before letter her unfasten the buttons on the fall of his breeches. He hadn’t donned his shirt, so she enjoyed the way the muscles in his chest and abdomen rippled with each movement. She watched the peaks and valleys over his belly move faster as she pushed open his pantaloons until she saw the thatch of hair and the tip of the promised land. Her mouth watered as she thought of the many illustrations she’d viewed in the books that still sat upon shelves in Keith’s library.
“When you look at me that way, Lyddie, you’re nothing short of a siren luring me to you.”
“But not your death.”
“The French call a climaxun petit morte.” A little death.
“Yes. Such euphoria that it’s as though you’re no longer on this earthly plane.”
“I’m certain it will be nothing short of heaven.”
Keith helped her ease his trousers farther down his hips until he sprung loose. He watched the fascination, trepidation, and excitement morph across Lydia’s face. She reached for him; her gaze locked his. When he nodded, she tentatively wrapped her hand around his sword wishing that she could be its sheath. She was hesitant at first, unsure how tightly she should hold him or how quickly she should stroke him, but she knew what to do.
