His chest rose and fell more quickly.
She had praised the taste of him.
He slid his lips a fraction closer—testing. Almost tasting.
Hope. Please saynever mind,continue as you were.
“A-August?”
Meghan’s mouth trembled. Not the delectable quiver either. Rather the one that shot like a rusty arrow to an already infected wound.
“You d-did not say. Does that mean it is a ye—?”
“No!”
Goodbye cockstand.
Punishment indeed.
Meghan’s mouth trembled into a smile.
Hope sprang anew, as did his very relieved cock.
Her voice emerged all trembly to break a bloody heart he wished to God he hadn’t discovered.
His muscles rolled and rippled under her light touch; that sweet virginal tap was the most erotic thing he’d felt in his bloody life because of how damned unaffected—
“August?” Meghan whispered. “August, are you sleeping?”
He lay there a moment and gave the coward’s way out a serious think.
Culross would have likely done it too, if there had been even the slightest assurance Meghan would not drive a hole through his arm with all her tapping until she got the answers she wanted.
Linnie meant nothing. She had been entertaining. She had also been…just a woman. A means to an end.
A fellow couldn’t exactly say that to his future wife’s sister.
Blast and damn the bloody McQuoid family. Couldn’t they have seen Meghan was there for Culross all along? A perfect match, in spirit, in humor. In strength and courage?
Instead, they had foisted the bloody eldest sister and…and…
You couldn’t have seen her yourself?
He couldn’t, because Meghan taught him to see.
Meghan sighed, a very, very long one.
“A real sigh?” he asked from under his arm.
He felt her nod at his side.
He sighed.
“A real one,” Culross confirmed before she asked the question.
Culross wanted to speak about anything other than Meghan’s sister. He would rather perform a drizzling and unpick allthe gold threading from every fabric, braid, or fringe in the Archdales’ possession.
Culross felt her pull away before she moved.
