Page 385 of Wicked Highland Heroes

The smile never left his face, and it seemed he moved in slow motion as he approached. He sat on the edge of the bed, and Victoria stiffened to keep from tilting toward him when the mattress shifted beneath his weight. His back to her, Iain leaned forward and grasped a boot. Muscles strained against his shirt. Victoria’s heart jumped in an erratic beat and she jerked her gaze onto the wall where played shadows cast by the bedside candle.

With each tug of his boot, the bed danced in unison with the light on the wall. When a boot hit the floor, she threw herself on her side facing away from him, yanking the covers over her head.

A long moment of silence followed, and the bed lifted when he stood. The rustling of material confirmed he was discarding his clothes. A tug on the covers, ghostly light, and he slipped into bed beside her. A gentle arm wrapped around her waist, and his warmth covered the length of her from behind. His hard length pressed into her buttocks. She tried to halt the tremor in her belly, but couldn’t. He wanted her, was ready for her. Light kisses trailed along the side of her neck. His arm unfolded from around her and fingers traced an airy line along her side, past her waist to the gentle arc of her hips. She shivered. Warm breath bathed her neck and her heart jumped into an erratic pattern.

His hand sought the soft flesh of her thigh then pulled her leg back toward him and a finger dipped into the unguarded core of her body. Tender warmth spread through Victoria. He ceased stroking her to tug her onto her back. Coming to his knees, Iain pulled her into a sitting position. She didn’t realize his intention until, in one easy motion, he had her night rail over her head.

A shocking tide of desire swept through her when he came down on top of her. His lips met hers. Soft and pliable, they contrasted the hard part of him that moved in hot need against her thigh then, just as demanding, along the surface of her folds. She raised her hips to accommodate him, and he entered her in one quick thrust. Her intake of breath startled her, and a ripple of something deep within her radiated outward as he nipped at her ear.

“Sweet Victoria.”

Her heart leapt. He knew her name, had claimed her. Tears threatened and the unexpected need to push him away caused her grip on his shoulders to tense. As if sensing her intention, he moved faster, meeting her need with a heat grown fierce with knowledge of its prey. His face lifted from her neck and his gaze met and held hers as he thrust harder…faster. A quiver began deep in her core and, like a moth to flame, she gave into the rhythm.

* * *

Victoria lay awake, her thoughts centered on the even breathing of the man asleep beside her. Waning candlelight flickered across his features as if in harmony with every breath he took. She eased onto her side and, with a tentative hand, traced the muscles of his arm. He stirred and she drew back, closing her eyes in feigned sleep.

When his breathing again evened out, she relaxed and a sudden weariness overtook her. A weariness she knew had as much to do with the appearance of her relatives as it did with Iain MacPherson. At the thought of Edwin Hockley, Victoria rolled to the other side of the bed with the intention of rising. “Where are you going?”

She paused. “To look in on Katherine.”

Iain reached out, his arm going round her waist, and tugged her to him. He nuzzled her ear. “This is our wedding night and already you are trying to escape me?”

She ignored the quiver in the pit of her stomach.

“I have been thinking, my lord.”

“Thinking is the last thing you should be doing tonight,” he said, his voice husky.

“I am wondering,” she forged on despite his romantic efforts, “if Edwin would allow Katherine to stay.”

Iain’s amorous advances halted. “Stay? You mean here?”

She winced at the boom of his deep voice in her ear. “She was never welcome in Richard’s household, and I doubt it is any better in Edwin’s house.”

Iain leaned away and looked at her. “Did Hockley treat you as your husband did?”

She shook her head. “Nay.”

“He never hurt you?”

“Nay.”

“Then why do you fear him?”

“I do not fear him,” she answered. “I simply have no great love for him.”

“Why?”

She hesitated before saying, “I thought you said tonight was not a night for such things.”

Iain grunted. “Aye, and this conversation bears out the logic. Still, you insisted, so here we are. Tell

me what you know of him.”

“I know very little.” Victoria eased her conscience with the logic that she had, indeed, found out just how little she knew of him. “When I was married to

Richard I seldom saw him.”