Chapter Thirteen #3
She waved her glass, dodging the liquid that sloshed over the rim and onto the carpet. “The funny part is”—the funny part is, she should have created a fictional lover long ago—”you were afraid I would want someone else.”
He looked startled and she couldn't help a laugh.
Elise placed her glass on the sideboard and came to stand in front of him.
A fuzzy sensation in her belly made her feel reckless.
Wrapping one arm around his neck, she caressed his jaw with her free hand.
She ran her gaze in a purposeful, slow motion from his mouth to his eyes.
“Perhaps I should have considered another application or two for my hand.”
His arm shot around her. She squealed with the hard yank of her body against his.
“I am marrying you because I cannot live without you,” he growled.
But you will, she thought, and pulled away so he wouldn't see the pain that rose too easily to the surface. Elise started for the sideboard and her drink. She reached the tumbler and once again downed the glass.
“Elise,” he growled. “Enough.”
Despite the sudden fogginess of her vision, she reached for the decanter again. This time, strong fingers pried her hand from the stopper.
“You seem to forget,” Marcus said, “my warning about disobeying me.”
Elise frowned, the fogginess creeping into her brain. “Ahh, you mean the threat to distract me with your body.” She laughed. “I think that threat is a little old, don't you?”
Without warning, he swung her into his arms and, an instant later, she found herself on the couch, pinned tightly beneath him.
“I always keep my promises, love, even if it means finding a new twist to an old game.”
“I'm not in the mood for your games tonight, milord. Let me go.”
“Nae.”
“Marcus.” She groaned with the effort of attempting to shove him off her.
He shifted and, grasping her hands, wedged them behind her back.
His weight lay fully on her and she wriggled, the increasing cloud across her mind impairing the ability to think.
Even as she realized he'd lowered his head and his hair was tickling her chin, the sudden flicker of his tongue dangerously close to her nipple sent a jolt through her.
She gave a tiny squeal and he responded with a noise deep in his throat.
Gripping her wrists with one hand, he freed his other hand to reached down and yank up her skirt.
“Marcus,” she breathed, unexpectedly clear headed, “we're in the library. You cannot!”
But he continued, his tongue—his tongue, she forgot in favor of the finger that slid across her pleasure point. Marcus wound a foot around her ankle and tugged her close until she felt the thick bulge pressed to her thigh. His grip on her hands loosened as a slow thrust slid along her thigh.
“I think ye will find your father in here,” came Cameron's voice just outside the library.
Elise stiffened. Marcus yanked her skirt down as the door opened. She squeezed her eyes shut just before Marcus's gaze settled on his father.
“You chose a fine time to visit the library,” Marcus said evenly.
“Aye,” Cameron replied. “So it would seem. You look well this evening, lass,” he added.
She buried her head in Marcus's shoulder, not quite stifling an oath.
“I think you had better do something about your lady's speech,” Cameron said. “She's beginning to sound like a sailor.”
“Was there something you wanted?” Marcus asked. “Kiernan,” he exclaimed.
His muscles tightened and Elise realized he was rising. She grasped his shoulders.
He relaxed and said, “I'll be out directly. Give me a moment.” The door closed with a soft click, then he said, “You can open your eyes now, love. They have gone.”
Elise opened her eyes while shoving at him. “Get up for God's sake.”
He obliged. “Only a moment ago, you didn't want me to rise.”
She sat up. “Your son—he saw me.”
“Elise—”
She shot to her feet. “Good Lord, you shouldn't have—”
“Now, love, 'tis not all that bad. You were fully clothed after all”—she groaned and plopped back down onto the couch—”and, truly,” he went on, “this has been a household of men for many years. We aren't shocked by a little love-play.”
Elise shook her head harder this time.
Marcus gave her a gentle look. “You can't avoid him our entire marriage.”
Her stomach did a flip.
“I'll take full blame for the situation.”
She paused. “That is the truth.”
“Aye,” he agreed.
She kept her gaze fixed on him, but she was imagining his son's face as he stared down at them, Marcus on top of her while she arched toward him.
If she could only leave the castle tonight.
But even an hour's absence would be noticed.
Not nearly long enough. She remembered how they had tracked her clear to Glasgow and the damned pawnbroker.
“Leave Kiernan to me.” Marcus's voice jerked her back to the present.
She eyed him doubtfully.
He smiled. “Don't concern yourself over it, love. 'Tis nothing.”
Elise rose. “I'm going upstairs to change.”
“But you look beautiful.”
“I can imagine just how I look,” she grumbled.
His gaze traveled the length of her, his expression taking on a masculine pride, which started a quiver in her stomach—and reminded her that his son had caught them when that same look was on Marcus's face.