The Brazen Bride

She halted, close, too close to pretend that they hadn’t been-weren’t-lovers. Despite the nearness, she was tall enough to meet his gaze easily. She studied his eyes, then said, “I’ve a proposition for you.”

He arched his brows. Felt immediately wary, but whether of her, himself, or what might be coming he couldn’t have said.

Her lips curved. “I don’t believe it will hurt.” She paused, then went on, “I want you to educate me in the ways of the flesh. In every erotic, sinful pleasure.”

Lustful anticipation slammed through him.

Equally instinctive, the honorable part of him held firm. He tightened his jaw, tightened his hold on his baser impulses. “It might, perhaps, be wiser if we didn’t further indulge.”

Linnet’s brows flew high. So he could spend all night obsessing about what he couldn’t remember? “Hmm… no. That won’t do. It occurs to me that you are presently without coin or other material means to repay my hospitality.”

His lips firmed. “I’ll help you with your donkeys. And the goats.”

She laughed, her eyes never leaving his. “Not enough-not nearly enough.”

“Throw in the cows-and I’m a dab hand with horses.”

“Now you’re getting desperate-and, if you think about it, just a touch insulting.” She shifted nearer, held his gaze unrelentingly. “Stop arguing.”

His eyes narrowed on hers.

Holding his gaze, she lowered one hand and boldly closed it about the solid rod of his erection.

He hissed in a breath, closed his eyes.

“Tell me,” she purred, “why is it you don’t want to fall in with my plan?”

She knew the answer: Because he was the sort of man the last days had shown him to be, and he would therefore feel compelled to retreat to a position of conventional honor. She’d seen that coming and, discerning no benefit to either of them in his taking that tack, had devised a way around it by making his falling in with her plan an equally mandated act. He would want to repay her; she’d shown him the way.

His lips grimly set, he opened his eyes, looked into hers. “Do you really want that? To be taken, possessed, your body used in ways you’ve never even imagined?” His voice lowered. “Do you truly want to put yourself in my hands, in such a way, to that extent?”

Primitive threat underscored his tone, smoldered in the midnight embers of his eyes, and sent an evocative shiver down her spine. Sadly for him, that had the opposite effect to what he’d intended.

She thrived on challenges, the riskier, the more exciting, the more tantalizing the better. Smile deepening, she tipped up her face, and closed what little distance remained between them. “Yes. Take me.” Her eyes on his, she categorically stated, “However you want, however you wish-take me now .”

Logan’s lips were on hers, his tongue plundering her mouth, his hands fisted in her hair before he’d thought. And then… he couldn’t.

Think.

All he could hear were the words of her taunting order.

Take me now.

Indeed he would.

However you want, however you wish…

As he held her face steady and ravaged her mouth, he remembered he was supposed to teach her, to repay her… by opening her eyes to all that could be within the realm of sensual pleasure.

She’d tied his honor in knots, so not even that could excuse him denying her.

So yes, he would do as she commanded. But how?

As per her sultry order, he consulted his fantasies, swiftly rejecting this one, that-those he couldn’t envision her in. Couldn’t imagine placing her in; she might have agreed to every erotic and sinful way, but she was a relative innocent with no real idea of what that encompassed.

But… yes, that one. He immediately knew it would work-that she would enjoy being taken, possessed, like that.

Wrenching his mouth free, he looked down at her face for a brief instant, then grabbed the hand still cradling his erection and towed her-dragged her-across the room. After one shocked gasp, she caught up her skirts and kept up easily enough.

Reaching the end of the bed, he yanked her to him, raised his arm over her head, and twirled her, twirled her- then brought her to an abrupt halt before the cheval glass in the corner.

He looked over her head at the reflection revealed in the glow from the candle she’d left burning on the tallboy.

The light washed over her, enough for them both to see her wide eyes and the soft flush tinting her alabaster skin, while he, in dark coat, black breeches, and black boots, with his black hair and tanned skin, appeared as little more than a dark presence behind her.

Perfect.

“This is a performance.” Closing his hands about her shoulders, he bent his head and pressed a hot, open- mouthed kiss to the point where her exposed nape met her shoulder. Head still lowered, he lifted his gaze to the mirror, trapped her eyes. “An erotic performance, and you are the one who’ll perform.”

She drew in a huge breath, breasts swelling beneath her dinner gown. As she opened her lips, he laid a finger across them. “First rule of this classroom-no talking from you. I will give orders, and you will obey. Other than that, you may moan, sob, even scream-and believe me, you will-but at no point will any word pass your lips. Not even my name.” He held her gaze, then softly asked, “Do you understand?”

She opened her mouth, saw his rising brow, closed her lips and nodded.

“Excellent. So let’s begin.”

The first thing he did was pull pins from her hair. Linnet expected him to take all of them, but no-he picked out one pin here, one there, concentrating on laying first this tress, then that, over her shoulders, trailing yet others to drape her neck. She stood and watched him in the mirror; she could only see what he was doing, where his darkly tanned hands were heading, once they came forward of her shoulders. Only then did the light reach them well enough for her to see.

She was wishing she’d brought up a candelabra rather than a single candle when he lost interest in her hair and focused on her breasts. She felt the shift in his gaze, felt the heat on her breasts-felt them tightening, peaking.

In the mirror she watched her nipples pebble beneath the fine wool of her gown.

“Undo your bodice.”

This is a performance, an erotic performance, and you are the one who’ll perform.

She finally understood. Even as her hands rose to do his bidding, she wondered what she would learn from this lesson. Her green gown fastened down the front, a row of pearl buttons closing the bodice; she slipped the first free, eager to find out.

His gaze followed her fingers as they worked steadily lower. She paused when she reached the raised waist- looked at him.

“Keep going.”

She could feel the heat of him down her back, sense the solidity, the strength, the masculine power, all held in check mere inches behind her. Primed, ready for action, but utterly controlled. She wouldn’t mind breaking that control, splintering it, fracturing it, but that, she suspected, was a lesson for another day. Tonight…

Reaching the end of the row of buttons, level with the line of her hips, she halted. Went to ask “What now?” but remembered in time.

“Slide the gown off your shoulders, free your arms and hands, and let it fall to the floor.”

She did as she was told; as the gown slid to puddle about her feet, she realized why he’d let only a few tresses of her hair free. Her hair was long, nearly reaching her waist, and thick and wavy; if he’d let it all down, it would have screened her upper body from his sight.