“There were comments, my lady,” he added in an undertone.“As you anticipated.I thought we had best ensure rumor found no footing in our hall.”
She had to concede the wisdom of that, and nodded once.
He still did not release her hand.She tugged a little, to no avail.
“Where do you mean to go so early when the hall is cold?”he murmured.“Stay and be warm, my lady.”
He lifted the bedlinens in invitation and smiled.There was a dangerous seduction in his voice, yet Melissande was tempted all the same.
“We should, perhaps, endeavor to create a son,” she said, knowing that she sounded breathless.“To secure the future for both of us.”
“Indeed.”
Their gazes held for a moment, then Melissande slipped beneath the bedcovers.She left a distinct distance between herself and Quinn.
“You will be too cold there,” he said.“And we surely must touch to create that son.”
“Aye,” she agreed, then Quinn’s arm locked around her waist, pulling her against his side.Melissande gasped at his quick move.He was wondrously warm, though, and she dared to release the breath she had been holding.It was quite comfortable to be nestled against his strength.
And thrilling, as well.
Then his hand lifted from her waist and his fingertip dropped unerringly to her lips.He could not have been awake when she touched him, she told herself.It was only a coincidence that he touched her where she had first touched him.
But Quinn’s finger retraced the precise path her own had taken, though across her flesh instead of his.
Melissande felt his finger’s warmth slide across her cheek, around her ear, down the length of her jawline.She swallowed when his other fingertips joined the first in sliding down the length of her neck.
She caught her breath when his fingers eased beneath her chemise and gently traced the silhouette of her collarbone.
“You mock me again,” she whispered, mortified.She felt Quinn lean over her and reluctantly opened her eyes to find his eyes gleaming with intent.
“Nay, my lady,” he murmured.“I would simply know you as you now know me.”
Melissande might have protested, but she could not find the words when Quinn cupped her breast in one hand.His thumb slid across her nipple and she gasped as it tightened to a peak.
All she saw was Quinn’s easy smile.
“This does not lie,” he whispered.“You like this caress.”Before she could argue, he bent to touch his lips to that taut peak.Melissande found her fingers in his hair as he gently suckled and teased her nipple.It was potent to be touched with such gentleness, knowing that he was so strong.He could have injured her easily, but he marveled at her instead.
And he gave her pleasure.He had to realize as much.His tongue flicked against her and Melissande was filled with a heat that left her trembling.
“Too much?”Quinn lifted his head and smiled at her, his expression seductive.
She shook her head, mutely.“So much but not too much,” she whispered.
The warmth of his fingers slid around her breast and she saw his throat work as he watched his own hand.“You are beautiful,” he murmured, and the awe in his voice could not have been contrived.“It astounds me that you should be my wife.”
“Tulley willed it.”
“Tulley could have chosen a crone.”
“Not if he wanted you to have a son.”
Quinn nodded agreement, his gaze fixed upon his fingertips.“He could have chosen a maiden whose wits were not so keen as yours.”
Melissande opened her mouth and closed it again, uncertain what to say.
“It is your nature that crowns your beauty, Melissande,” Quinn said softly.“The way you speak, the way you walk, the way you plan and think.”He shook his head.“It is more, far more, than the shape of you that beguiles me.”
