Tempt Me With Kisses Read Free Page B

forthright as she was now, or would she become shy and uncertain?
    His blood quickened with these thoughts, until the other part of him—the sensible, rational part—wondered what kind of wife she would make the rest of the time.
    Still she regarded him questioningly, waiting for his answer. Then the expression in her eyes suddenly shifted, to one not quite so certain.
    She looked vulnerable. Or … lonely.
    Alone she was, he realized, for alone she had arrived, except for men paid to escort her. He, too, was alone even when surrounded by all the people here. It had always been thus for him.
    His gaze drifted lower, past the throbbing pulse in her neck to her breasts, rising and falling with her breathing.
    This bold, astonishing woman wanted to be his wife. Would the daughter of a wealthy man, no doubt carefully raised, understand all that she was asking for?
    He would show her.
    He tugged her into his arms and claimed her mouth.
    Hot hunger exploded in him. Desire surged and threatened to swamp his senses at the taste and touch of her.
    By the saints, he wanted her. Now. Completely. Her legs around him, holding him tight as he thrust inside her. Her anxious moans of yearning sounding in his ears. Her lips crushed beneath his, her breasts against his chest as he took her.
    When she wrapped her arms about his neck and pressed her body against his, returning his kiss with equal and insistent passion, he thought he would die if he did not have her.
    Was this how it was for Connor and Dafydd when a woman wanted them? If so, he had not envied them nearly enough.
    His mouth still locked on hers, he pushed her back until she met the table and could go no farther. He frantically began bunching the soft wool of her gown into his hand, the other splayed against her back, holding her as close as he could. His mouth left hers to slide along her smooth and slender neck. Small sounds of need vibrated in her throat as he kissed lower, and lower still.
    She put her hands on his chest and shoved him back.
    “We are not married yet,” she said, panting, her eyes flashing fires of protest and her lips slightly swollen. “Indeed, my lord—and I do know exactly who you are—I do not even know if you are agreeable.”
    His chest heaving, his whole body ready and anxious to take hers, he stepped forward. She wanted him. He felt her need and desire coursing through her hot and willing body.
    She held him back, her lips a firm hard line of decision. “No more until we are married. And you have not yet given me your answer, my lord.”
    Was this coy refusal after that passionate kiss some kind of game?
    If it was a game she wanted, it would be a game she got.
    He smiled slowly, as Connor did when he sought to tease a woman into bed. He may not have the experience or the charm of his younger brother, but he had always been a studious boy. Now he would find out how much Connor the fair and winning had unknowingly taught him. “I will have to sleep on it.”
    Her eyes widened with her surprise, and her full lips parted.
    He had taken her aback. Good.
    Then her eyes narrowed and that firm resolve returned to her face as she shook her head. “No, my lord. You must decide now. If the answer is no, I will not stay.”
    So, he had not learned the lessons Connor could teach, not if this bold, insolent creature could so swiftly resume her former manner and ignore what he said about ultimatums to give him another.
    No game, this, then, but a haggling in the marketplace. “Three thousand marks, your dowry?” he demanded.
    She nodded.
    “I want to see it and be sure of its value. I trust it is in the wagons?”
    “You will find jewelry, wine from France, fine cloth from Italy, Irish silver and Flemish gold. Also five hundred marks in silver coin.”
    He tilted his head to study her. “You must be very trusting, Fiona MacDougal, to bring that here and let your escort go.”
    “If I doubted that you were an honorable and honest man, Lord Caradoc of