“Ye bastard!” She started kicking her legs with wild abandon. “Let me go. Let me go.”
With one arm wrapped around her narrow waist, he stood, holding her like a sack of corn. Placing her away from him, he held each arm in a firm grip against her side. She hunched forward, breathing heavy from the exertion. And all he could think about was covering her mouth with his, of tasting her lips, her skin, of running his fingers through her tangled mane. He was near exploding with desire for her.
“Stop this! I deserve to ken the truth.” Sean’s voice sounded strained and he prayed she wouldn’t realize why. “Thomasina!”
It was a beautiful name. It fit her perfectly.
Closing her mouth, Tommy looked to be getting herself under control. Her eyes on him, she shook as if overcome by his audacity. Mayhap he should have taken to paddling her as she so deserved but he feared he’d feel worse than she would. Beating a woman was not in his nature. That one spank had been an unexpected reaction to pain. Slapping her bottom was the farthest thing from what he wanted to do with it.
“Truth!” he groaned aloud. “Put me out of my misery.”
She looked surprised at his outburst then took a shaky breath. “Yea! Ye deserve the truth.”
“And do ye ken the truth?” Sean leveled his gaze. “I dunna need any more pretenses here. Not now.”
Not when his body yearned to be betwixt her legs as he pounded into her, receiving his need, answering with her own passion. She had no idea. She would have no idea. He kept his gaze fixed on her face despite the heaving breasts and the sweat trickling down her neck into places he’d like to follow with his tongue.
“Can we sit?” she asked.
He feared she planned to bolt. “I canna release ye. I dunna trust ye not to run.”
Incredulity poured out from her. “How can ye—”
“Ye’ve been lying to me since the moment I met ye. How can I suddenly trust ye?”
“Do ye want to ken or not?”
“Nae!” He’d prefer not to but his preference wasn’t of much consequence now. He’d have preferred to not have met her dressed as a lad, stealing his horse out from under him, and all but scratching at herself to make the pretense believable. He’d prefer to have met her in the village, dressed in a gown that clung to all her womanly curves, plying him with a “come hither” look that promised much, and her hair soft around her shoulders where he could rub its silkiness against his cheek instead of shoved down her shirt as if it were something to be forgotten. He licked his lips. “Yea.”
Her arms still in his grip, they settled onto the ground at the same time, facing each other.
She nodded, her breath growing steadier. “Yea. I am sorry to have had to lie to ye.”
“Ye dunna ken anything about me. How do ye ken ye had to lie to me?”
“I canna trust anyone.”
“Yea. Ye could only take my horse.”
“Oh! Not fair!”
“But the truth! And that is what we’re working on here. Are we not?”
She sighed. “Yea. The truth.”
The silence grew and he watched the emotions flit across her face. If she knew how easily he could read her... “Dunna think half-truths will work. I ken when ye’re lying.”
“Hmph!About a week ago, my father told me my betrothed would be coming to wed me that afternoon.”
“Yewerebetrothed then?” A heaviness settled in his chest. She was spoken for.
“Nae! And ye canna be interrupting!”
Sean tipped his head. She was being annoying on purpose. He gripped her chin to tip it up toward him. He glanced at her lips. A strong impulse to kiss her washed over him. He glanced into her eyes instead, narrowing them for effect. “I willna be put off. I’m staying here until I get the truth from ye. All of it.”
“I was not betrothed! So,” she stressed the last word.
Sean released her chin and rolled his eyes but said nothing. His fingers fidgeted along her wrist, her pulse racing beneath his fingers.
