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Allie smiled, this time in truth. “Aye. Now go back to that handsome husband of yours. He must be wondering where you’ve gone to.”

“Not any longer.” The booming voice behind them startled both women.

Graeme.

“But I do thank you for the compliment, Lady Allie.”

Her sister, never sheepish, simply smiled.

Graeme turned to her. “Are you still hungry, my dear?”

“Hungry? Nay, I’ve eaten plenty—”

“Good. My lady,” he addressed her sister, “will you please give your parents our regrets? We will, unfortunately, be retiring early.”

Allie looked back and forth between her and Graeme, her smile understanding. Although how it was so Gillian would have to ask her sister later. Beyond the maids’ gossip, neither of them had much experience with men.

“My pleasure,” Allie responded. And then she disappeared.

Gillian spun toward her husband. “I’m not yet tired, my lord. And would very much like to have finished—”

“Conversing with your parents?” He took a step toward her. “Pacifying your father?”

“How dare you!” Her frustration with the situation, and with the promise she’d made to Allie, bled into the words.

“I dare much, my queen.”

When he pulled her toward him, Gillian did not for a moment consider stopping him to resume their conversation. She was angry still, mayhap more so now, but she also craved this man’s touch more than she did food and drink.

His arms encircled her, strong and warm. His lips descended, crushing her with their urgency. She met his tongue thrust for thrust, needing to lose herself in the familiar, welcome feel of him.

When he moved down her chest, leaving a trail of kisses and fire behind, Gillian clutched onto him, only vaguely aware of their surroundings.

“We should retire in truth,” she managed under his wicked onslaught.

“Mmm.” Instead, he continued, his hands reaching forward to cup both breasts. He squeezed gently and then slipped his hands inside her gown.

“Graeme! What are you doing? You can’t—”

Her words, cut short by the shock of his next action, stuck in her throat. The man actually reached inside her bodice and managed to free one of her breasts. If anyone walked by them now . . .

If that was not shocking enough, her husband actually touched his tongue to her breast, circling her nipple but never quite touching it. In the corridor!

“Shall I stop?” he asked, circling still.

“God, no.” Was that even her voice?

Chuckling against her breast, he finally took it in his mouth, simultaneously pressing his body against her. The evidence of his desire for her, coupled with the feel of his mouth now alternatively suckling and teasing, made her legs go weak. She could hardly stand.

Graeme must have sensed as much, for he spun them around so that Gillian’s back was pressed to the cold stone wall behind her.

If they were caught . . .

But he had resumed his ministrations, and Gillian threw her head back, reveling in the sensations, desperate for him to continue the onslaught. Graeme licked and gently bit on her nipple, his hand holding her breast up as if it were a revered treasure.

When the throbbing began, Gillian tried to stop it. She couldn’t allow herself to succumb to her pleasure here. But Graeme had a funny way of reading her. He must have sensed she was close to the edge because he pressed against her in exactly the right place.

“Yes,” he whispered.