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He suspected that.

“I want so much to kiss you again,” he said, his thumb now rubbing the nub that would give her pleasure, “but I want to see your face when you find release.”

“Release?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

If she’d never experienced it, Kieran would be damned to explain it to her. He’d prefer to show Maisie what his words meant. And so, while his fingers worked her, Kieran used his voice also to coax her pleasure forth.

“Simply feel my fingers, my desire to bring you pleasure.” Her hips circled and pressed as his thumb increased its pressure. “You are a beautiful woman, Maisie. Even more so at this moment, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. About to find release?”

“What,” she said, the rate of her breathing increasing, “does that mean?”

Dear lord in heaven, this woman.

“Come for me, sweet Maisie,” he said, aware she didn’t ken.

But she would.

“Let it all go. Come for me.”

As if his words coaxed it to happen, she did. Maisie’s eyes squeezed shut as she pulsed around his fingers. She was so incredibly beautiful, her face pure pleasure. He held his fingers inside her, steady, until she stopped.

Removing them, he stood from the bed, rinsed and dried his fingers in the bowl beside their bed, and then pulled Maisie’s chemise down, covering her. Kissing her forehead, he moved to his side of the bed, lay back down, and pulled her onto his chest.

“I dinnae realize . . .”

He closed his eyes, glad Maisie’s husband was dead so he did not have to kill the man himself.

“I am sorry for it,” he said, unable to see into Maisie’s eyes with her head tucked into his chest. “But glad to be the one to show you how a woman should be pleasured.”

Her fingers played with the hem of his shirt. “I was scared, for a moment, that you would . . .”

Kieran waited but she never finished.

“That I would make love to you,” he said finally.

She nodded against his chest.

“I willnae,” he promised, “unless you ask it of me.”

“I do not wish for a babe.”

“Nor do I,” he admitted. “Though there are ways to prevent it.”

“Also . . .” She picked her head up and looked at him. “I do not wish to become more inclined to you than I am at this moment. After what you just did”—she smiled shyly—“I ken now why some enjoy it.”

“Do you?” he teased.

Maisie nodded.

“‘Tis a predicament we find ourselves in, is it not?”

“Aye.”

He smiled. “Close your eyes, sweet Maisie. We will talk more on the morrow.”

“That . . .” She blinked. “That felt very, very good.”

“As it should.” He kissed her forehead again as Maisie tucked her head back into him. He would have continued talking to her but, not a few moments later, he could hear her steady breathing.