‘Good. We weren’t properly wed the first time, so I am going to make damned sure we are legally joined the second time. Now come and lie down, open wide and take your punishment, you wicked lass.’
Maren squealed in delight as he proceeded to do all sorts of terrible things to every part of her. How he relished placing his tongue and his hands on every part of Maren’s feverish skin. She rose up to meet his lovemaking with a passion to match his, and Bryce took his time to bring her to a peak, holding her on the brink for as long as he could restrain himself.
Afterwards, as they lay together, their skin cooling, Maren turned to him and stroked his face tenderly. ‘I declare myself satisfied,’ she said with a smile.
‘Do you now?’
‘Aye. I declare that your efforts to consummate this marriage have been most thorough and impressive.’
‘Well, that is good to hear, for I intend to do my husbandly duty by you just as thoroughly every day of our marriage. And later, when I deign to release you from my bed, I will take that bill of indenture and burn it before your eyes.’
She sat up on one elbow. ‘Why?’
‘Because you do not belong to me, Maren. You never did. One person cannot own another.’
Her face fell, and sadness softened her brown eyes. ‘I do belong to you, Bryce, and I always have in my heart.’ She leaned in and kissed him slowly, her tongue gently coaxing his to respond. His cock turned to steel, as it always did with just a look or caress from Maren, and he heaved himself on top of her.
‘See what you did? Now you are in trouble, lass,’ he said with a laugh as he slid back inside her unprotesting body.
Much later, as darkness fell, Bryce woke to Maren sitting up beside him, still as a statue. The light from the flickering fire gave her skin a most delicious glow.
‘Are you alright, lass?’ he asked.
‘Oh, aye. I was just thinking about some gossip I heard from servants.’
‘What gossip?’ he said, sitting up and sending lazy fingers down her spine, making her twitch.
‘I forgot to mention it earlier as I was otherwise most pleasantly engaged,’ said Maren, removing his hand, which had roamed downwards to cup one peachy buttock.
‘There is news of your cousin, Hew.’
Bryce groaned. ‘What news? What has he done this time?’
‘Only gotten himself beaten to within an inch of his life.’
‘By whom, for I would like to congratulate them?’
‘Word has that it was some ruffians he gambled with – low types who do not appreciate a fellow who will not pay his debts. They accosted him in an alley and broke a few bones, spoiling his pretty looks with bruises. He is convinced it is the work of the Baron and is in fear for his life. So he has fled south, back to the fleshpots of London, leaving Fenella behind.’
‘So my cousin is displaying his usual gallantry. I almost feel sorry for that shrew Fenella.’
‘So do I. He is an odious coward, your cousin.’
‘Odious indeed. And now you deserve punishment for mentioning that toad’s name on our wedding night. Roll over onto your belly, lass,’ laughed Bryce, grabbing hold of Maren and tossing her to the mattress. She did not resist, and her moans and sighs continued long into the night.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was race day in the glens of Inverness, something of a tradition that had sprung up in the area. Maren’s riding habit felt too tight, she was sweating profusely, and nausea made her grimace at Bryce when he urged her to hurry.
‘Come, lass. We must make haste and be there at the start. My Uncle Dunbar has no love of latecomers, and we will be barred from entering a race we are sure to win.’
‘Alright, but I….’ Maren rushed to the washbowl and vomited into it, feeling utterly wretched. Must she be ill today of all days when there was sport to be had?
Bryce’s comforting hand on her back did nothing to ease the churning in her stomach. ‘It seems you must bide here, and I must go alone, lass,’ he said gently.
‘No, I will be alright. Just give me a moment.’
‘I fear you must stay behind, given your malady.’
