Her attention shot to him in surprise. “What? Are you mad? Rangar, Iadoreit!”
She, too, recalled her mother wearing the necklace at the Low Sun Gathering. At the time, she wondered if she’d ever be as beautiful and refined as her mother. The necklace's value was staggering, but it wasn’t what moved Bryn—it was having this small piece of her mother back.
She stood so abruptly that her chair tumbled backward. She clutched the necklace in her fist and threw her arms around Rangar’s neck.
“I love it. I loveyou.”
His hands slid down her back. “Good,” he purred in her ear. “Now, I want to see you wear it.”
She turned around and lifted her hair so he could fasten the links around her neck. Turning back around to face him, she brushed her fingers over the jewels, relishing their cool touch against her warm skin.
“Beautiful,” Rangar whispered, his gaze fastened to the necklace. “But you misunderstood, my love. I want to see you wearingonlythe necklace.”
Her lips parted. Her hand dragged along the necklace’s smooth surface slowly, tantalizingly. “Then you’d better make it so.”
He needed no more permission. He tugged artlessly at her dress’s ribbons until he could pull the neckline down over her shoulders. His lips immediately found the hollow at the base of her neck, just above the curve of sapphires.
She tipped her head back as he nipped at her skin like he’d wanted a taste ever since the pie. One of Bryn’s hands went to the necklace as her eyes sank closed. The other tangled in his hair as he continued to dot fiery kisses along her décolleté.
“You’re right about the private room,” he said between caresses. “The Mir tradition. I can light enough candles here to see every inch of your pretty flesh. I never want to hide in the shadows again, bedding you in the dark.”
As though to prove his point, he yanked her dress down over her hips until it pooled at her ankles, leaving her only in her chemise and the necklace.
“This scrap has to go, too.” He slid the chemise’s straps over her shoulders and pushed it down to join the dress.
Naked, Bryn initially tried to cover herself with her hands, but Rangar grabbed her wrists and held them to her sides.
“None of that,” he ordered. “I want a good look at what’s mine.”
She flushed as his gaze examined and worshipped and caressed her naked curves. The sapphires were heavy around her neck, her only adornment. He touched his fingers to the jewels.
“They’re nothing compared to your beauty,” he whispered. “And as for the third and final wedding gift, you’ll receive that after the ceremony.”
He captured her lips in another kiss while freeing her hair from its braid. His fingers roughly combed through her curls until they were loose around her shoulders. He wrapped the length of her hair around his fist until he’d gathered it like a rope.
His other hand grabbed her ass. “Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered.
He lifted her with one hand while she slid her legs around his hips. He carried her to the bed, but instead of lowering her onto it, he sat on the foot of the bed with her in his lap.
One hand went to unbutton his trousers.
“Tomorrow, we’ll be wed.” His breath was husky. “You’ve no idea how often I’ve imagined this day. Calling you, my wife. I’ve wanted it since I was nineteen and saw you dancing in that field before the bonfire.”
“I wish you’d approached me,” she panted as his fingers coiled tighter in her hair.
“Gods, I nearly did. Your father would have killed me, but it might have been worth it.” He adjusted her on his lap so that she was straddling him. His erection was rock hard between her legs, teasing her bare skin.
“Now,” he ordered in the same sharp voice he used when commanding the military, “Sink onto me.”
There was something undeniably ardent about being fully naked while Rangar was fully clothed. Though unsure exactly what to do, she lifted her hips and wiggled until his cock pressed against her slick center.
He groaned as she wiggled. His hand tightened in her hair, and the other latched onto her hip to guide her down his length.
“That’s it.” Holding her by the hip and hair, he guided her to rise and fall as they made love. “By the gods, Bryn. I could do this forever and still not have enough.”
His hips thrust up to meet her as she sank down. Her bare skin was extra sensitive as it slid against the rough-spun fabric of his shirt and trousers. The sapphires clattered gently like soft bells as she moved.
He cupped one of her breasts, then lowered his lips to taste her nipple. His cock impaled her in a way that was both rough and not rough enough, and she started moving faster on instinct. He groaned again as he took her mouth in a kiss. His lips held a trace of apple pie: cinnamon and warm buttery crust. Breathless, she moved faster, feeling a delicious need cresting in her.
