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He stood, reached for a drying cloth, and watched Maisie’s expression turn from surprise to kenning to, unfortunately, disbelief.

“First, why would such a thing matter? I am the daughter of a farmer.”

“You are a very wealthy innkeeper, no longer simply a farmer’s daughter.”

She seemed to ignore that. “More importantly, I am not your future wife.”

“Nay?”

“Nay,” she said, looking down at him as Kieran finished drying. He took a step toward her.

“That, my dear Maisie, is the second matter we must discuss. But first, as you continue to look at me such, it seems there is another matter to address first.”

She wanted him as much as he wanted her. The desire was there, in her face, to see plainly.

“Which matter might that be?”

He was hard, fully erect. And very much ready. “Rather than discuss it, I’d show you instead.”

22

Chapter

Kieran’s revelations.

MacBrannigan’s attack.

His death.

So much had happened that day, and yet as Kieran strode toward her, all Maisie could think was how much she wished to be in his arms. To feel his body against her. Inside her. When he lifted her chemise, she raised her arms to assist him.

He reached behind her, pulled Maisie’s braid forward, and began to undo it. “I would see your hair flow freely between us as I make love to you.”

As I make love to you.

With her hair now tumbling around her shoulders, Maisie moved toward Kieran, whose hands gently caressed first her neck, and then downward over her shoulders and then arms.

“I would touch every part of you,” he said, his fingertips on her waist and then gliding upwards, finally cupping both breasts. She closed her eyes, giving herself completely over to his touch. When his hand glided down between her legs, she held on to his shoulders to steady herself.

“So wet,” he said, his voice so low she could hardly hear him. Maisie’s eyes popped open. “So ready for me.”

That, she heard.

When he removed his hand and guided her toward the bed, she expected to lie beneath him as she’d done before. Instead, Kieran lay on his back. Pulling her atop him, he guided her until she straddled him from above.

“You are in control.”

She looked down, unsure how to proceed. His smile did not help matters.

“Kieran,” she said. “I do not know how to do this.”

“I assure you.” He gripped himself with one hand and splayed his other on her hip, guiding it upward. “You do.” Easing onto him, Kieran’s groan of pleasure encouraging her, Maisie propped herself on his shoulders with both hands and began to move.

Though his hands remained on her hips, aiding her as she moved up and down, it was Maisie who set the pace. Maisie who controlled their movements.

“I like this very much.”

“Good. You will be doing it a lot.”