Elizabet spun away from him and walked faster, keenly aware that he followed, cursing him softly beneath her breath.
CHAPTER 12
Broc was having a difficult time bringing himself to tell her that the back of her skirt was caught in the chain of her girdle. She was having such a fit of temper he wasn’t certain how she would take it if he told her outright. So he kept his mouth shut.
For her sake, he kept hoping her skirt would fall and cover that deliciously pert little rear, but it didn’t, and he wondered after a time that she didn’t feel the draft on her backside. He kept pace behind her, trying to keep his ardor cooled, but it wasn’t easy when he kept imagining her stopping and bending to pick something up. What a beautiful sight that would be.
God’s truth, he’d always had a weakness for women’s arses, and this one was likely the sweetest arse he had ever beheld. His hands ached to ever so gently squeeze those firm cheeks. What he wouldn’t give to have them fill his hands whilst she rode him.
Despite his initial impression of her, it had been clear enough to Broc that she hadn’t ever seen a man unclothed before. He was well endowed, to be certain, but not so much so as to deserve that look of absolute wonder on her face. And he might be flattered, in truth, but his pride was tempered by the knowledge that shewas naught but an innocent, which made him feel all the more responsible for her.
In fact, if he were any sort of gentleman at all, and not a barbarian as she claimed, he probably wouldn’t be looking at that delightful bottom, but he couldn’t seem to look away.
Och, but she had the loveliest little birthmark on her left cheek, perfectly formed, like a little half moon. It was nearly covered by her gown, but it kept peeking out at him from beneath and his loins tightened as he watched the delicate swing of her hips.
She was no frail miss, either. He admired the way she had handled him so easily, tossing him to the ground with very little effort. Had he thought her puny simply because she was English?
That had been his first mistake.
His second was not telling her sooner that her sweet little bottom was causing him extreme discomfort.
His throat was growing parched. His lips felt as dry as baked mud. His blood sang with longing.
Was the hair on her mons as dark as the hair on her head? Och, if she would merely bend over, he would know. The very thought of her doing so made him dizzy.
He was only a man, he reasoned, and her backside was tempting him beyond reason.
He tried to keep silent, not wanting to embarrass her, but his loins began to burn. Her firm little cheeks teased him to the point of torment, and his breath quickened with every step she took until it was nigh painful to breathe.
Self-preservation made him finally speak up, because he was going to go mad with desire if she didn’t cover that delightful bottom.
“Dinna worry,” he said. “I promise never to tell anyone about that cute little mole ye have.”
She spun to face him. “What mole?”
He winked at her. “That adorable half moon on your left cheek.”
She gasped aloud, her hands instinctively going to her bottom. When she realized she was exposed, she shrieked in alarm and scrambled to release the gown from her girdle. Her cheeks flamed, but she said nothing.
Broc couldn’t suppress his grin. Despite the fire raging beneath his plaid, his good humor was more than restored. His shoulders shook with repressed laughter. Her pretty cheeks were so red they appeared painted.
She wouldn’t look at him now, but merely worked fiercely to undo the skirt. “Why did you not tell me?” she said after a moment.
“I did tell you.”
“Hmph!” she said, still working feverishly to untangle her hem. She must have caught it when she’d lifted her gown, and then, when he’d interrupted her, she just hadn’t noticed. He’d made her so angry.
Elizabet cursed softly beneath her breath.
Frustrated, she unfastened the girdle, jerking it away from her dress, letting the hem fall free. She replaced the girdle at once and tried to refasten it, her cheeks burning.
She had been so bloody preoccupied with her thoughts and her anger that she hadn’t even noticed!
“I have a small mark on my right breast, too,” she disclosed, pretending an indifference she didn’t feel. “Care to see that, as well?”
When she dared to look up, he was smiling.
The rogue!
