Never had he been so thoroughly sated through coupling as with Faye.
“I fully intend to do that again quite soon,” she said.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I dinna want to hurt ye.”
Something flashed in her eyes, but she said nothing, offering him a simple smile instead.
He pushed up from the bed and cleaned himself before wetting a linen to bring to her. He hated to make a comparison between his wives but couldn’t help recalling how Lara had snatched the cloth and curled away from him to wipe at her virgin’s blood.
Faye parted her thighs at his approach, revealing herself and the smear of blood for him to clean her. When the cloth touched her, she closed her eyes and sighed with longing.
Ewan moved the linen over her carefully, stroking her clean. His fingertip brushed the little bud at the top, and she gave a quiet gasp.
“Again,” she whispered. “Please.”
He thought she’d been jesting about indulging this evening. Even if she wished for another bout of coupling, he was not comfortable claiming her again, lest he truly hurt her the next time.
But it didn’t mean he couldn’t please her. Especially when she was so wonderfully sensitive.
He moved his thumb over the nub as he continued to swipe the linen over her. Her nipples drew taut, and her face relaxed with enjoyment.
“Like that?” he asked.
“Please don’t stop,” she breathed.
He wouldn’t stop for all the coin in Christendom. This time as he plied her pleasure with his hands, he had the good fortune to watch her. Bliss flitted over her face, making her mouth soft and her cheeks flush.
Her whimpers pitched, and he knew she was near release. His thumb flicked faster, and her breasts rose and fell with her quickened breath. Her brows knit together as the sensations overwhelmed her, and her sex clenched beneath the cloth as she climaxed a second time.
He withdrew the linen, and her knees fell to the side, her body limp. Finally drained, or so it appeared.
He set aside the cloth and returned to the bed with her. She rolled toward him and rested her head on his chest.
He settled a hand over her curved hip and swept his fingers over her smooth skin. Lara surfaced in his head again, unbidden. They had never shared passion such as what he’d just experienced with Faye. Nothing even close.
Had that been his fault? Was that part of what had led to the coldness that settled between them?
Guilt clenched his soul. He stroked a hand down Faye’s silky, golden hair. “I promise to be a good husband to ye.”
“Ye’re off to a fine start,” she murmured.
He chuckled at her ready response. Faye had a fine wit that paired well with the fire of her spirit.
Beautiful and lusty and brave. It would not be difficult to show a woman like Faye that he cared for her. Indeed, it was far too easy to consider the idea that he might sincerely fall in love.
7
Faye prolonged waking the following morning. She snuggled against Ewan’s side, where she wished to remain for the rest of the day. Well, not simply lying next to him.
She craved Ewan’s skilled fingers on her and the hard length of his arousal gliding inside her. He shifted, waking.
She slid one leg over him, the movement slow and sensual. There was no secret in what she needed. She’d spent too long being curious about experiencing what existed between men and women.
Now she knew in body what she’d suspected in mind. And she wanted it again and again and again, like manna for her starved body.
“Faye.” His voice was gravelly with sleep.
“Stay with me.” She kissed his chest. Her fingers ran down his torso toward his cock, which she found hard and hot.
“I canna.” He shifted her hand away gently. “I’ve got to meet with Monroe this morn.” He rolled on to his side and looked down at her. His hair was rumbled from sleep, and his powerful body was carved with muscle where he held himself up.
He stroked her cheek. “Ye’re so verra lovely, Faye.”
She loved how he said her name—in a single syllable with his rich, rumbled timbre, cut short by his Scottish burr.
She nuzzled into his touch and parted her lips over his blunt thumb.
He uttered a silent curse and drew her to him, his cock hard and insistent as it pressed between her legs where she was already damp with need. They took one another in a quick, desperate passion that left them both gasping for breath after, while their hearts galloped in their chests.
When he finally rose from their shared bed, it was with apparent regret. He washed quickly and slid out the door, promising to have a bath sent up to her chambers. Faye lingered a moment longer in the warm tangle of sheets, then pulled herself from the soft mattress and crossed through the door connecting their chambers together. Her room was the same size as his, with a fine bed of a similar build—four carved posts and heavy, red curtains hanging from the sides. At the base of the bed was a chest for her wardrobe and by the wall near a shuttered window, a table with a comb resting atop it and various bottles. A small wooden tub already sat near the hearth.
This was her chamber and hers alone. How many times had she longed for such luxury?
Yet now, the very thought of Clara and Kinsey tugged at her heart. She would sacrifice the fine room and all the space for the opportunity to be at home with them again.
A red-haired maid entered the room, a woman several years older than Faye. The lines around her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Good morrow, my lady.
