Ten
Scuffling and yelling drew Ada to the antechamber. When she stepped into the room, she could do no more than gape at the scene before her. Both Connor and William were being held by Brothwell’s guards. Connor had blood running from his nose, and William had a murderous look on his face—and a dagger, which the guard was demanding, clutched in his hand.
Brothwell’s gaze fell upon her. He arched his eyebrows and gave her an amused and slightly censuring look. “It is hardly befitting of a lady to kiss a man,” he announced from across the room, bringing everyone else’s attention to her.
“I did nae kiss him,” she said through clenched teeth, turning her attention upon Connor accusingly. “Hekissedme.”
The man had the audacity to look at her innocently. “But ye said ye wanted passion.”
She ground her teeth at that. She had, in fact, told him she would not wed him because she did not think there was passion between them. That was but one of the hundreds of reasons, but she’d not felt inclined to give the man the rest. Then he had surprised her by kissing her. Before she could say more, William broke free from the guard who was holding him and ascended upon Connor like a violent storm.
She gasped as he reared his fist back and punched Connor. “That,” he bit out, “is for taking without being given permission.”
“Wolf!” Brothwell roared. “Hold yerself.”
William whipped his head toward Brothwell, and Ada’s breath caught, wondering if he would listen. For a moment, time seemed to stretch, and then slowly, he lowered his fist. But he did not move from where he had planted himself in front of Connor, even though a guard was tugging at William’s arm. He shoved the man away, seemingly without much effort. “I will kill ye if ye ever touch her again.”
“Ye are nae yet her husband, MacLean,” Connor snarled.
“Ada,” Brothwell interrupted. “Take Wolf into the solar and make yer decision. I tire of this back-and-forth.”
Her heart thundered as her gaze locked with William’s, and she frowned. His actions were protective, those of a man who wanted her, yet he looked at her almost with disdain. Was she imagining that? She stared, trying to decide, and his face seemed to change before her. The disdain disappeared, and in its place was a neutral expression, a mask, she thought, of his emotions.
It was time to be truthful with William. She hoped she was making the right decision and that he was the man she believed him to be. With that in mind, she simply nodded to her stepbrother, turned back to the solar, and moved into the room. Behind her, William’s footsteps sounded, and then the door swished and clicked shut.
She turned, her breath hitching at how near he was to her. She expected him to pause so they could talk, but he stalked toward her. She scrambled backward, feeling as if she had somehow unleashed something wild within him, given the determined, ruthless look in his eyes. By the time he reached her, she had her back pressed against the wall. He splayed his hands against the wall on either side of her to cage her in. “So ye desire passion in yer marriage, do ye?”
His taut tone and rapidly beating pulse at his neck told her that he was struggling to hold back, but she was not scared. She was intrigued. This had to be jealousy. She’d not planned to make him jealous, but if she provoked him just a bit, would he kiss her or would she truly rouse the beast? Would she feel his kiss everywhere as Marjorie had said she had felt Bram’s? She’d not felt Connor’s kiss, except for the annoying pressure of his lips upon hers.
“Ada,” he demanded, her name a warning from his lips. “Answer me.”
It was his own fault, she decided. He was prodding her, so she had to poke back. “I do want passion. If I’m to wed without love, I will at least have passion.”
Which will, God willing, lead to love.
A wicked grin came to his lips and a spark of danger to his eyes. “I can promise ye passion, Ada. Of that ye can be certain.”
A thrill shot through her, and before she could even think of how to answer, his lips were upon hers, hot, possessive, and awakening every part of her body like a jolt of lightning. Desire poured through her, curling her toes and sweeping gooseflesh over her skin. She groaned with the rush of it, as did he. His tongue touched the crease of her lips, demanding she open her mouth, and she did so eagerly, wantonly.
He slid into her mouth with his tongue, hers meeting his and then tangling as his hands traveled up to her breasts, which had become heavy, her nipples tight and aching. His palms skimmed over her breasts, making liquid fire and a pulsing need spring at her core. Dear God! She would melt from how much she wanted his touch.
His lips trailed a fiery path down her neck, which shot an odd tension along the nerves within her body. Something was building in her, and quickly. Something she had never imagined, never before felt.
Down, down, down trailed his sinful mouth, and then he gave a hard tug to her gown. She gasped as cool air hit her breasts. But there was no time to protest, not that she wanted to or even could have formed the words, because as quick as he had tugged her gown over her breast, his mouth claimed the right one, drawing her nipple into his mouth.
Oh, the sensations! Dear heavenly Father above, the sensations!
Warmth and softness and wetness surrounded her nipple, and he sucked and pulled upon it with lavish strokes that surely the devil himself had taught this man. Her senses spiraled and collided, and the tension in her continued to build, her core now throbbing painfully.
A sudden pounding at the door jerked her from the sensual frenzy, and her gaze flew to the door, which rattled. For a moment she feared that Brothwell would barge in, but then she realized the door was locked. She stared at William, who looked at her with complete and utter triumph and possession. She didn’t mind. Not one small bit. She felt the same way about him.
“Ye locked it,” she said simply.
“Aye,” he replied, swirling his tongue around her nipple one more time, causing her knees to go weak, but he caught her and crushed her to him, her bare chest to his hard one. Never had she been intimate with a man like this, never had she wanted to.
“Ye will be mine,” he said.
“Aye,” she agreed. But he would be hers, too. First in passion and then in his heart. She’d not felt so hopeful in a very long time.
