He’s an ugly creature, like most men. Poor, pitiful things.”
Now Bridget discovered herself stunned. “Your brother is quite handsome.”
“Is he?” Jemma lifted Bridget’s dress high over her head to help her dress. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Good.”
Curan spoke from the doorway, the sound filling the small bathing room that sat behind the large baking ovens. Heat filled the room from the morning baking in spite of the window shutters being left open.
“On both accounts.” He moved into the room, filling it with his larger size. Jemma laughed again.
“You find it pleasing that I think you are ugly or that I think all men are devoid of attraction?”
Curan actually looked playful as he lifted one hand and fingered his jaw. “Both, dear sister. The idea of you turning your ever-so-delicate nose up in the face of your rather large number of suitors brings me peace.”
His gaze shifted to Bridget, who felt her cheeks heat instantly. Passion flickered in his dark eyes along with pleasure. There was a part of her that enjoyed knowing that she had pleased him, because he was worthy of that.
“And hearing that my bride finds me handsome is very pleasing indeed. Do be a kind soul and leave us in private, Jemma.”
His sister blew out a long sigh while she gave Bridget’s dress a little tug to set it in place before she turned to her sibling and lowered herself very prettily.
“Excuse me, I am suddenly feeling ill.”
Curan grinned at his sister, and Bridget stared at the way the slightest curving of his lips transformed his face. Her words to his sister had been true—he was quite attractive, this facet of his persona even more than any other she had encountered. Jemma swept from the room with another dramatic sigh.
“What surprises you, Bridget? Do you not think I can be affectionate?”
She worried her lower lip while watching him through her lowered eyelashes. He stared at her, waiting for her to answer, but for once his expression lacked its commanding expectation. Instead, there was an ease about him that led her to think that the gleam in his eye was actually a flirtatious one. A similar need suddenly awakened inside her. The blush deepened on her cheeks.
“I wouldn’t dare accuse you of being unpolished in anything, my lord.” She spoke the respectful title in a husky tone. He pressed his lips into a tight line that turned them white.
“I believe it well that I sent Jemma on her way. I find myself longing for the chance to woo you.” He moved closer, and she felt him closing the space between them as much as she witnessed it. Awareness rippled over her skin. He paused when he was close enough to lift one hand and reach for her. The breath froze in her throat, her lungs suddenly suspended while she anticipated his touch. When his fingers met her flesh, it was hotter than an August day at noon. She drew in a stiff breath and felt sensation shoot lightning fast down her body. The feeling was almost too sweet to endure, but she refused to move away because it was too delightful. He stroked her cheek, sliding his fingertips along the side of her face that felt as though it were aflame.
“Sweet Bridget, your blush is by far the greatest compliment I have ever received.”
“False flattery is not necessary between us.” Truthfully, she found it difficult to think when he was behaving so charming. The hard expression that he wore when sitting in command made it much simpler to find no reason to disobey her mother.
His fingers moved up into her hair. It was still half wet and hanging loose, just as her dress was. But her stays were tight, and her breasts felt as if they were straining to be free from the stiffly boned undergarment.
“Because you are bound to surrender yourself to me?” A hint of arrogance colored his voice again. She lifted her eyelids to stare at him fully.
“Because you believe that is my place.”
He chuckled. The amusement surprised her. His face didn’t become clouded with pride; instead he stepped closer so that she could feel his body heat. The scent of soap clung to his skin, and she realized that his hair was damp like hers. His hand cupped the back of her head, tipping it up while he took the final step left between them.
A soft sigh left her lips when his body touched hers.
“It is your place, Bridget, for so many more reasons than the agreement I made with your father.”
He pressed a hard kiss against her lips, but she enjoyed his strength. It was the shameful truth. Her mouth opened, and she tilted her head before he used his hand to move her. The tip of his tongue traced her lower lip before thrusting into her mouth to toy with her own. Sweet delight filled her, burning through the last of the chill that lingered from the freezing journey on the road. She reached for his shoulders, eager to touch him. His lips left hers, wringing a soft cry from her, but it turned into a sigh as he trailed soft kisses down the column of her neck.
Never once had she noticed how sensitive was the skin covering her throat. His lips were hot against it, making her shiver and press her body closer to his. He locked a hard arm around her waist, holding her tightly. Her hands tangled in his half-wet hair, threading through the strands. Every inch of her was alive with new awareness. She felt more, noticed more than ever before. She could smell his skin and knew his scent apart from others. It twisted into her senses, bringing an enjoyment that rose up from some dark corner of her mind. Just as a baby smelled sweet, Curan’s skin brought her enjoyment when she was close enough to smell its scent.
Her blood felt heavy as though she had drunk too much wine, but she did not care. She wasn’t close enough to him. Her hands moved over him, seeking to touch every part of him. She slid one down over his chest, over the hard flesh she craved. Her fingers curled around his erect cock, and his powerful body shuddered. She gasped, stunned by the ferocity burning in his eyes when he lifted his head to lock gazes with her.
She did not abandon her grasp. Confidence surged through her, awakening the need to command him just as completely as he had done to her last night.
