Page 61 of The Laird’s Wrong Wife

“Tracks near the eastern grazin’ ground. They will search again at first light.”

His voice was even, so she let the matter rest. When he shifted, the firelight revealed a pale streak near his hairline.

“Ye missed a spot.” She crossed to him and raised her hand.

Oscar caught her wrist before her fingers reached his temple. His grip was gentle, his thumb resting beneath her palm. Her fingertips touched the inside of his wrist, where his pulse beat faster than his calm expression let on.

The amusement vanished from his face. “Daenae look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like ye can feel every place I touched ye.”

Ceana stood close enough to smell clean linen and damp skin. “I do remember, though.”

“So do I.”

His gaze trailed down her body. It followed the shape of her breasts beneath her gown and slid lower to the thighs his hands had uncovered the night before. His jaw tightened as he forced his eyes back to her face.

“I am tryin’ to keep me distance,” he said. “Ye look at me as though ye want me closer, and it makes the effort considerably harder.”

Ceana looked past him at the mattress. “It is our bed.”

She moved half a step closer, her dress brushing his bare shin. His manhood thickened and tented the towel.

His fingers tightened around her wrist. “If I touch ye, ye ken where it will end.”

The sight of his arousal sent heat through her, stirring a pulse between her thighs. He wanted her, and his body had answered before she could doubt him.

“I cannae conceive,” she assured him.

“I heard ye. I understood everythin’ ye told me.”

“Then why are ye holdin’ back?”

“Because ye may be wrong.”

Ceana’s breath caught. “Ye accepted that risk on our weddin’ night.”

His eyes stayed on hers. “Aye, I accepted it. If I touch ye now, I will accept it again. I will take ye back to the bed and finish inside ye, and I willnae stake yer life on the hope that ye are right.”

Her inner walls clenched at the image he had given her. She remembered the feel of him spilling deep inside her. The pulse between her thighs grew until she had to resist pressing closer.

Oscar stood aroused within reach, fully aware of what another touch would lead to. He had denied himself the same thing he denied her. She could no longer mistake his distance for a lack of desire.

“How long do ye intend to keep yer distance?”

His grip loosened. He looked at the bed, then back at her. “I daenae ken.”

One night she could have borne, but his uncertainty included tomorrow and every night that followed.

“The part about livin’ separate lives has survived the weddin’, then.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. His fingers flexed once around her wrist, then relaxed again. Soon enough, he released her. The same hand rose to her cheek, and his thumb brushed over the spot that had been marked with flour earlier.

Ceana leaned into his touch. After everything he had admitted, she expected the contact to shatter his restraint. Instead, he bent and kissed her.

His mouth rested softly against hers, closed and careful. She answered at once. She parted her lips and pressed one hand against his damp chest, trying to absorb his heat. His fingers twitched against her face, and his lips opened beneath hers.