'I-I never agreed to be naked!'
'You want me to marry you without ever seeing your body in the light?'
'Most do!'
In a flash, his hand shot out, stripping her of the towel. When she grappled for it, he whirled her around, and with his grip both gentle and firm, he pinned her wrists together behind her. He was maneuvering her as if he was searching for her scar, but the sight of her breasts seemed to stop him.
His voice roughened. 'I only got to see these in shadow before.' He made some growling sound, and his big palm covered one. She froze at the shock of heat. He hissed in a breath.
Would he still want her after seeing her body completely? She wouldn't want him anyway! Why couldn't she have bigger breasts? She squeezed her eyes closed, mortified.
Softly kneading her flesh, he grated, 'No bigger than a teacup.'
Maddy wanted todie .
'You might beintelligent , but you're no'pretty ,' he sneered.
Die immediately.
He dropped his hand to palm her bottom, and low masculine sounds broke from his chest. 'You're bloodybeautiful .' He sounded infuriated by that fact.
She peeked open her eyes and found his muscles tensed. His erection was huge, straining against his trousers.
Beautiful? After he's seen me naked in the light?
His hand began rubbing all over her, along her hips, over her belly and breasts, as if he didn't know where to touch her next—as if he was overwhelmed by a bounty. His brows drawn, his breaths haggard, he said, 'So fair…'
Though he was clothed and scrutinizing her, Maddy's pleasure heightened with each stroke.He thinks I'm beautiful. The idea was so pleasing…her eyelids fluttered closed. The more he touched her, the more she wanted just to lie back and let him explore her like this.What is happening to me?
When he swept a hand over the curls between her thighs and rasped, 'The color of your light hair,' she shivered, having to stifle a moan.
'Aye, just let me look at you, lass,' he bit out once she relaxed in his hold.
When he released her hands, she took a breath, as though gathering courage. He could tell she had the urge to cover herself—she blushed and glanced sharply away—but she didn't.
He'd taken her virginity, enjoyed her, touched her, and had never comprehended—or savored—exactly how lovely her body was.
The room's lamp cast light over her pale, smooth shoulders. Her long hair cascaded in wet curls, brushing over her hardened nipples. His gaze followed the rivulets of water sluicing down from her breasts to her belly and lower, and he hungered to follow that trail with his tongue and lips.
He heard a low rumbling sound and was surprised to find it came from within him.
She was slim, but somehow shapely, utterly womanly. Her hips flared from her tiny waist, giving her an hourglass shape. Her arse could not be more pert and lush. And the two dimples above it…? Ethan stifled a groan. He wanted to press his thumbs over them as he held her in place and thrust against her.
But her sensuous little breasts riveted him…. They were small yet high and plump, and her nipples were so sensitive, budding with the lightest touch. Though he remembered he'd always preferred heavy, full breasts, after cupping hers in his palm, he couldn't quite recall why.
She was perfect—but for one thing. His attention turned to her scar, the one she hadn't wanted him to see. He took her elbow and tugged her closer to the steam-fogged lamp, raising her arm. The mark covered about a third of the bottom of her forearm and looked like a typical burn scar, with white twisting lines contained within borders of red.
'You broke it, too?'
Her eyes widened before she made her face blank.
'When?'
She shrugged as best as she could with her arm seized. 'I don't know. It happened a long time ago.'
'You raised your arm against something that was burning. And it broke the bone.'
Now her lips parted. 'How could you…why would you say that?'
'I know scars.' His lips curled in a bitter smile. 'Where were you in a fire?'
She hesitated just a heartbeat, then said in a blithe tone, 'At a manor we lived in. When I was younger. One of the servants was drunk and careless with his pipe.'
'In other words, your garret caught fire from a drunken tenant.'
She shuddered, then whispered, 'I wasn't always poor, MacCarrick. I did live in a mansion, and there were servants and parties and friends.'
'Aye, I know that.'I'm the one who took it all away. 'Or you'd hardly be friends with the Weylands.'
'W-will you please let me go?'
His chest felt heavy and uncomfortable again, goading him until he released her.
She sank down into the water, her back to him, streams of her hair curling down. Her shoulders curved in miserably. Her ribs were visible, not terribly bad, but enough to show she'd missed meals.
Goddamn it.This was not the time to be developing a conscience. He cast about for something, anything, then recalled how much she'd insulted him this evening. 'You've a lot of nerve to comment onmy scar.'
She sucked in a breath.
He knew why he might be moved to say something like that at a time like this, but he wasn't too far gone toward absolute cruelty to understand why hemightn't have said it.
'Stand up and come here,' he demanded. 'I want to touch you more.'
'No! It's bad enough baring my body to you, but to be ridiculed—'
'Ridiculed?' he asked, incredulous. 'There's no' anything to ridicule!'
'The th-thing you said about my scar. And about my…my breasts being small.'
'You did repeatedly insult me tonight, and it's no' as if I need you to remind me what I look like.'
She peeked over her shoulder, her cheeks even more flushed.Does she feel guilty for her insults?
'As for your breasts, if you could no' tell by the raging cockstand I had while touching them, or when I outright told you I find you beautiful, I'll say it plain: I look at your wee body and reasoned thought leaves my brain. So if you want to see a man lose his mind, you'll come to me and let me touch you more.' When she still didn't rise from the water, he said, 'If you doona want my hands on you again, then come touch me.'
She nibbled her lip at that. A promising enough answer for him. He promptly began to strip down, pulling his shirt over his head.
'Uh, wait! I don't want to do that either….' She trailed off, brows drawn as she stared at the stitches in his chest. 'What happened to you?'
'Doona worry. It'll soon scar, and you'll have more to belittle about me.'
Ignoring his comment, she said, 'You've lost weight, too. Is this the injury you spoke of?'
'Aye.'
'What happened?' When he didn't answer, she quirked an eyebrow. 'Scot, you really must stop running with scissors.'
'You are such a daft lass.' As he sat on a cushioned stool, removing his boots, he found himself telling her, 'I was shot.'
Curiosity lit her eyes. She leaned against the side of the tub, resting her chin on her hands.'Shot?' She flashed him an expression of realization. 'Nowonder you were afraid of the sounds of gunfire.'
'I was no' bloody afraid—'
'So, who would shoot you?'
He shrugged. 'A bad man.'
'I can see you've had other serious injuries. So what do you do that's so dangerous? Are you some kind of renegade? Or insurgent? I know—you're a soldier of fortune!'
Ethan had never been secretive about what he did, only for whom he did it. 'Maybe I'm a bit of each.'
She opened her mouth to say more, but when he stepped out of his trousers, she turned away. He used the opportunity to join her in the water. She gasped, darting for the side to flee, but he caught her by the shoulders.
