“I should retire to my chambers,” she told him before she took her seat once more. “I’m exhausted.”
It was half true. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand being out here with him, under his stare, before something within her gave way before she could make sense of it. As much as she wished she could contain herself, this man—this mad,dangerous man—did things to her that she could not contend with, and the sooner she was out from under his spell, the better.
She made for the door, not giving him a chance to respond. She had hardly stepped out of the hall when he had caught up with her, catching her arm, drawing her to face him once more.
“I told you, I need to rest?—”
“You dinnae remember, lass?” he cut her off, his eyes glittering with distant amusement. “Obedience doesnae require fear. Only consequence.”
He wrapped his hand around hers as she stared back at him, trying to make sense of what it could mean. But, as he tugged her gently along the corridor, she knew that she did not have it in her to fight back. No, something had given way, allowing him to take what he wanted from her. The ease of his confidence more tempting than anything else she could muster.
He led her to his chambers, up a spiral staircase that seemed to wind on for an eternity. As though they were clambering up the stairs to heaven. Or to somewhere, something else entirely…
Pulling the door back for her, he gestured for her to enter, playing at a gentleman, even if he was anything but. The door closed with a solid thud behind them, making her jump, and she prayed that he had not noticed.
As he stepped out before her, she mustered what bravado she had left, cocking an eyebrow and staring him down pointedly.
“So, what is it this time, hmm?” she asked. “I smiled too sweetly? Breathed too loudly? Tell me, what did I do to upset you?”
She was only joshing, trying to break some of the tension that lay between them. But he rounded on her as if he truly had found some reason to be angry with her.
“You made me falter,” he announced. “At the altar. In front of my men.”
She stared at him for a moment. She thought she had sensed an inch of doubt from him when they had been saying their vows, but she had put that down to him realizing how mad it was for him to go through with such a thing.
But this? Now? To hear that she had given him pause, if even for a moment? It was mad. Maddening.
“You stepped into the chapel looking like a temptress,” he continued, his voice equal parts accusation and confession. “You think you can bewitch me, lass? You think I am not already mad enough as it is?”
Her breath was coming in quick gasps now, and she was sure that he could sense it, the tension in her movement, the way that she carried herself. She wanted to brush him off, to tell him that he was insane and that he must have been wilder than anyone could have imagined if he had thought that she would submit herself to him so easily.
And yet, some part of her, some deep, curious part of her, longed to find out just what else he might have contained beneath the roiling sea of his madness.
He reached for her hair, tracing his fingers along the braid that she had laced with flowers that morning.
“Did you wear these fer me?” he went on, smirking slightly. “So thoughtful, wife, to make yerself pretty fer yer husband. I could almost have sworn that you enjoyed my attentions.”
A few of the blossoms came loose, tumbling to the floor at her feet, filling the air with their scent. Something about the smoke on his skin meshed with the floral perfume in a way that made her head spin. She could feel something, something deep and demanding, building within her, something that she knew she had to fight with all her will to hold back.
“I wonder if the rest of you is as sweet as yer lips,” he went on, as his hand moved from her hair to her face, cupping her chin for a moment as he dragged his thumb across her mouth.
Her lips parted on instinct, opening to breathe in the scent of him, willing herself to stop as much as she was willing herself onward.
“I wonder if you prepared fer me with more than just those flowers.”
His hand moved down this time, down her cheek, her arm, pausing at her waist as he had when they were dancing, before continuing towards her skirts and gathering them in his hand. Even though he did not ask for permission out loud, he moved slowly, giving her ample time to protest if she were so disgusted by his touch.
But she made no move to stop him, no part of her wishing for this to end, the need growing larger and more demanding with every passing second. She did not know exactly what it was he meant when he asked if she had prepared for him, but it was nothing to do with flowers—at least, not the kind that bloomed out in the garden beyond.
His hand snaked beneath her dress and towards her underthings, pulling them aside with the practiced ease of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. As his hand slipped between her legs, her body swelled with want as he tucked his other hand behind her head and pulled her close.
“Ah, lass,” he let out. “I knew that there was only so long you could pretend that you were a good girl.”
She gasped, and he kissed her, his tongue tracing her lips like he was marking out his territory. As his fingers pressed inside of her, finding her most sensitive spot with ease, he drew his lips to her ear, voice low and rasping.
“I cannae tell if it’s the wine I’m intoxicated on or you, Innes. But either way, I dinnae intend for you to leave my chambers tonight.”
She caught hold of his arms, legs trembling dangerously beneath her as his words permeated her senses. All she couldthink of was him, the way his voice sounded, the way his fingers felt within her, claiming the part of her that nobody had ever touched before.
