A rush of wondrous need poured through her, and she felt an echo between her legs. He pulled gently, his tongue swirling around, and her breath caught, in shuddering gasps. Paul seemed to instinctively know what she wanted, and his palms splayed upon her bottom, lifting her against him until she arched back and pressed hard.
Between her legs, the intensity of his thrusting erupted with a violence that made her cry out, going liquid with a release like the one he’d given her at thecèilidh. Only this time, it was even more wondrous. She pressed hard against him, and the ecstasy continued, until her body jerked with spasms of shocking heat and pleasure.
She had gone pliant beneath him, her body feeling as if all the blood had drained away. It was more blissful than anything she’d ever experienced.
But the look in Paul’s eyes was grim. He was still taut with desire, his body stiff beneath her. Although he had not found his own release, Juliette reached out to touch him. The moment her hand slid down his back, he pulled away. “I think you should go to sleep now,” he said.
She didn’t argue as he pulled the coverlet over her. But instead of curling up against her, he swung his legs to the side of the bed and crossed the room. A moment later, he donned his clothing.
“Where are you going?” She’d expected him to sleep beside her, since it had grown dark outside.
“I’ll be back later” was all he said. After the door closed behind him, she could only wonder when he would return.
Or if he would return.
His groin felt as if someone had taken a hammer to it. Paul drained his second mug of ale, but it did nothing to diminish the raging ache. Though he didn’t blame Juliette for not wanting to consummate their marriage, right now, he wanted to be inside his wife. He craved that connection, wanting to join their bodies together.
The hell with it. He wanted to erase all memories of Strathland. Inside, his blood was hot with fury, and he couldn’t seem to calm it. The earl had known Juliette more intimately.Hehad claimed her virginity, and because of the violence, she had no desire to ever consummate her marriage.
It was understandable. If she believed another pregnancy would kill her, why should she want to risk being intimate with him? His body was on the edge, craving it all… and it could mean her death.
He ordered another mug of ale, hoping he could get drunk enough to pass out. For he couldn’t go back to his wife’s bed. If he slept in the same room with Juliette, he would have his hands upon her, all night long.
God help him, he’d set himself up for torture. When he’d agreed to her conditions, he’d never imagined the torment would be this great. She’d warned him that she would not share his bed. All along, she’d been clear on her wishes. But he’d underestimated how difficult it would be to keep his hands away.
“What on earth are ye doing here?” a female voice demanded. “Ye should be abovestairs with yer lady wife, tryin’ to get bairns on her.”
Paul ignored the innkeeper’s wife, holding out his empty tankard. “Another.”
“I’ll no’ be helping a drunkard. Get out of here, and talk to her. Be gentle, and she’ll welcome ye, I’ve no doubt.”
“Wheesht, woman.” He had no longing to hear her advice on how to handle his wife. Though it was true he’d never taken a woman to bed, he’d already pleasured Juliette twice. He had five years’ worth of ideas in his brain, not that it would do him any good.
“No woman wants to be alone on her wedding night, that I can tell you.” She went on and on about how Juliette was likely frightened, and even offered to talk to her.
“There’ll be no need for that,” he said. But he was ready to go anywhere to escape her prattling.
With disgust, he stood up and tossed a few coins on the table to cover the cost of the ale. It had been over an hour since he’d left Juliette. If she were asleep, he might be able to slip back inside the room without her knowing he was there.
But when he returned, he spied a candle glowing in the darkness. It spilled over Juliette’s face, like a touch of gold upon her skin.
“I was hoping you’d come back,” she said gently. “Why did you leave for so long?”
“Because I had to.” He sat upon the chair, far away from her. The remnants of their evening meal remained, though they’d finished the wine already. “I didn’t trust myself around you.”
“You stopped when I asked you to.” She sat up, exposing a bare shoulder that he wanted to touch. Reminding him that everything he ever wanted lay beneath a linen sheet.
“I didn’t want to stop.” He turned toward the window, feeling a chill in the air. “In that moment, I was just like the earl. I wanted to thrust inside of you, no matter what words I’d vowed.”
She paled, crossing her arms over her chest. It was right that she should be afraid, after what he’d just confessed. He wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted him to sleep downstairs or on the floor.
But then she exhaled slowly, as if gathering courage. “You wanted to. But you didn’t.”
“That’s nearly as bad.” There was a small hearth on one end, and he bent to make a fire. The distraction of a task was needed right now.
“You were right, you know,” she whispered. “I did feel good when you touched me. I wasn’t as afraid as I thought I would be.”
He continued building the fire until a small warmth emitted from the flames. The distance was what he needed right now. But then she asked, “Paul, come and lie beside me.”
