Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (25 page)

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Authors: Michelle Willingham

Tags: #Britain, #England, #Great Britain, #Highlander, #Highlanders, #Highlands, #Historical Romance, #London, #Love Story, #Regency Britain, #Regency England, #Regency London, #Regency Romance, #Regency Scotland, #Romance, #Scot, #Scotland, #Scotland Highland, #Scotland Highlands, #Scots, #Scottish, #Scottish Highland, #Scottish Highlander, #Scottish Highlands

BOOK: Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk)
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“Take off your clothes,” she murmured.

He stilled at her command, but eventually, she heard him remove the coat and shirt. Then there came the light shush of his kilt as he removed it. In the darkness, she couldn’t see him, but she took a moment to remove her nightdress.

This time, when he leaned his weight atop her, she felt the shocking heat of his naked body against hers. The sensation of his thick length against the seam of her opening was enough to bring back the intense longing. She knew that all of this was wrong. She would undoubtedly regret it in the morning.

But for now, she didn’t care.

Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her body demanding more. Without asking, she reached out to touch him. His thighs were tightly muscled from years of running and riding horses. She marveled at his strength, learning his body with her hands.

A low growl resounded from his throat when she caressed his hips. “No’ there, lass,” he gritted out. He rearranged his position and guided her hand to the front, pressing her palm against his erection.

She’d never seen a naked man before, much less touched one. But she found him beautiful. There was indeed a power in touching him, encircling his velvet shaft and giving him pleasure.

“Careful,” he warned, when she squeezed him. He taught her how he liked to be touched, how to stroke his length, and how to make the head of him wet.

As she pleasured him, the feelings of uncertainty grew. He’d asked her to wed him twice before, and she’d said no. All because he’d lacked a title and lands.

And all he’d ever wanted was to be with her.

Her eyes filled up with tears, and she closed them to keep from weeping. He was as hard as stone within her fist, and as she touched him, he renewed his own assault upon her flesh.

Giving him the same pleasure was deepening her own. As he invaded and withdrew with his hands, she imitated his motion with her palm around his shaft. Cain moved her to the side, then rubbed his length between her thighs. He was riding her core, not inside her, but tempting her in a way that made her shudder.

Suddenly she realized that she would not want another man as her husband. She could not imagine a proper gentleman or a titled lord doing this to her. There was only one man she wanted in her bed—Cain Sinclair.

He took both breasts in his palms, rocking his hips against her, until the ache intensified to the point where she released the tears she was holding back. She trembled against him, moving her leg up until she could guide him inside. The head of him entered her, and the thickness stretched her tight.

“Lass,” he whispered against her, “this wasna part of the plan. I was ne’er going to take you.”

“This is my choice,” she whispered. “If you want me. And I don’t care what happens afterward.”

If she was well and truly ruined, what did it matter now, that she took pleasure for herself? Her cheeks were wet with tears as she silently cried for the woman she had once been. And the woman she was becoming.

Cain let out a low curse but caught her around the waist and thrust slowly. There was a little pain as he took her innocence, but she bravely ignored it until he was sheathed deep inside her.

He didn’t move at first, and the soreness began to abate. Then his hand came back between her legs, gently stroking at the hooded flesh above the place where they were joined. Her body responded, and she couldn’t help but clench against him.

“That’s it, lass. Relax for me,” he ordered, touching her and gently sliding and withdrawing. He kept the pressure of his fingers upon her while he created a slight rhythm. She didn’t know what he was doing, but he was gliding in and out with no resistance.

“I didna think I’d ever be with you like this,” he admitted. “It was only a dream for me.”

He seemed to know exactly how to move, how to draw out the aching pleasure until she started shaking against him. Like a blossom unfolding, she strained against his thrusts, welcoming the intense flood of sensation. It was here, oh sweet God, he was going to take her under again.

The release exploded inside her, and she cried out, unable to stop herself from spasming against him. Cain gripped her waist and pressed her to her back, continuing to thrust as she shattered in his arms. He let out a single hiss and jerked against her, finding his own pleasure as he flooded her.

It was the most exquisite sensation she’d ever known, with him buried inside while the aftershocks claimed her. And though there would be consequences for what she’d done this night, right now she refused to think of them.

They were intimately joined, and Margaret reveled in the closeness. She felt like melted candle wax, unable to form a coherent thought.

But then he spoke against her skin. “I’m taking you away from here on the morrow, lass. And when we find a minister, you’re going to be marrying me. You willna have a choice.”

Cain lay against Margaret’s soft body, but sleep would not come. It had been hours since he’d taken her innocence, and now it was nearly dawn. Though it had been her decision, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. Aye, he planned to wed her. But after that, what sort of life would she have? A woman like Margaret Andrews would be miserable dwelling in a one-room thatched cottage, like the one he shared with Jonah. She couldn’t live like that, and he didn’t want her to.

She hadn’t answered him when he’d told her his intentions. The only sign that she’d heard him was the touch of her hand over his heart.

He leaned against her hair, breathing in the scent of her. She was going to regret this in the morning. And though he knew marrying her was the only choice for either of them, he hated the thought of bringing her down to his social class. If her father, Lord Lanfordshire, learned of this, the man would want Cain taken out and shot.

He stayed beside her for the rest of the night, savoring her skin against his. An ache caught him, for he had craved a night like this one, a chance to show her how much he desired her. But now that it had happened, his own regret made it impossible to sleep.

He’d stolen a piece of Heaven and made an angel fall. If that didn’t make him a devil, he didn’t know what would. Marriage wouldn’t solve the problem of her ruin, for he was well beneath her. But it would protect her if there came a child from their union.

A strange ache touched his heart at the thought of a son or a daughter with Margaret’s green eyes. He almost smiled, imagining how she would teach them good manners. She would be strict and proper, giving them the education he’d lacked.

And after the children were in bed, he’d unlace her and spend the night hours loving her.

As if in answer to his dream, Margaret moved her hips against him. Her sleepy motion aroused him instantly. He couldn’t tell if she was awake or not, but when he reached out to touch her breast, she emitted a soft gasp. Her nipple was taut, and he rolled it between his fingers, adjusting his erection until it was pressed at her opening. He didn’t move against her, but continued giving her breasts attention, waiting to see if she would welcome him inside her. She might be too sore.

Against the tip of his shaft, he felt her opening to him. She pressed against him, and she was indeed wet and welcoming.

God above, he could spend every day for the rest of his life with a woman like her. He began steadily thrusting inside, and she met his penetrations, pushing back as he took her from behind. He made love to her until her breathing transformed and he knew she was close to breaking. It took only a few more strokes for her to arch against him, trembling as she found her release. He took his, only after he knew she’d been fully satisfied.

For long moments, he remained buried inside her. He kissed the soft skin of her shoulder, then nibbled at her throat. But he didn’t speak. Any words he said would only remind her of the choice she’d made.

“It’s almost morning,” Margaret whispered in the darkness. “You’d better leave the bed, before the maid comes in.”

He knew it, though he didn’t want to leave. Instead, he ran his hands over her bare skin, making a memory of her. Then he withdrew from her body and gave her back the nightdress. He got dressed in the darkness, but it bothered him to be sneaking around like this. He preferred to simply take her away from here and damn the consequences.

Margaret pulled on her nightdress, then her wrapper. Her hair was tousled around her shoulders, and in the faint morning light, he saw that her lips were swollen, and her eyes were bright. She crossed the room toward him. “I know I should regret what I did with you last night. But I don’t.”

He took her mouth in another kiss, one that she met with enough passion to make him want to drag her back to bed. “Neither do I, lass.”

And after he sent her a smile filled with promises, he slipped outside her room.

Margaret walked down the stairs, wearing the gown she’d arrived in. The maid had informed her that Mr. Barnabas wanted to dine with her at breakfast. She had also offered a new morning dress, but Margaret had declined to wear it. She knew, too well, what that would imply.

When she arrived at the dining room, Mr. Barnabas was reading a letter. As soon as he saw her wearing the old gown, he set the letter aside and frowned. “Did you not receive my gift, Miss Andrews?”

“I did not feel it was appropriate for me to accept it, when I only met you a few days ago,” she explained. After his remark, that he was seeking a wife, she’d needed to dissuade him of any ideas. “I borrowed the gown last night out of necessity, but I’ve left it with Annie to be cleaned.”

“A woman of your beauty should not be forced to dress like a housekeeper,” he said. “I would have thought you’d prefer to wear clothing that befits your station.”

“I do not wish to be beholden to you,” she said quietly, “when I shall be leaving this morning.”

His expression tightened, as if he didn’t wish to hear it. “Be that as it may, if you would prefer to remain here and send word to your family, it would be more comfortable than a journey on horseback with your . . .
cousin.

She gave no response to his jibe, for his opinions didn’t matter. While a footman served her breakfast, she noticed Mr. Barnabas studying a letter. A dark frown deepened the lines around his mouth.

“Was there bad news?” she inquired, though it was none of her business.

He folded it up and shrugged. “As I said before, it’s family troubles. I must leave today and hope that I can intervene before too much damage is done.” But though he kept his tone casual, she sensed frustration beneath his voice.

While Margaret dined at breakfast, she let her thoughts drift back to last night. Cain’s touch had been searing, her body responding to his with unbridled passion. Never before had she experienced anything like it. The unabashed joy of giving herself to him was unforgettable.

There was freedom in breaking the rules, in embracing a wilder side of herself. It was intoxicating to know that she held power over a man as strong as Cain Sinclair and could drive him past the brink of sanity.

But his marriage demand had caught her unawares. She understood his reasons for wanting to protect her—but his domineering command had made her falter. She might be a fallen woman now, but she was hesitant to marry a man who took it upon himself to order her around.

Mr. Barnabas folded up the letter and set it aside. “I shall deal with my cousin’s situation immediately and return within a few days.” His face softened, and he told her, “My offer stands, should you wish to remain.”

“She doesna plan to stay,” Cain interrupted, striding into the dining room. To Barnabas, he added, “We thank you for your hospitality, and ’twill be repaid.”

Lewis Barnabas rose from his seat immediately. His expression grew troubled, and he said, “That won’t be necessary, Sinclair. Miss Andrews gave her assistance at the supper party last evening, and she was an excellent hostess. Perfect in every way.”

She felt the man’s eyes upon her, along with his silent plea for her to stay. But she could not. “Thank you, Mr. Barnabas. And I hope that you are able to help your cousin when you find him.”

He nodded and gestured toward the food. “Eat, if you wish, before you go.”

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