“Just a taste, please?”

Again, she was amazed that he would want such a thing. But his eagerness was genuine, for when she backed up and over his face, he strained his neck up to taste her, using that wicked tongue exactly as he had previously to drive and torture her. She ground against him without thinking, chasing the tingling sensation, and he drove her towards it. He struggled against the ties as if he dearly wished to touch her, to hold her against his mouth. When the explosion came, it surprised her with its suddenness and intensity. She had been so delighted with her explorations, she had not realized how aroused she was.

She moved off and turned, collapsing back against the pillows, feeling wet and replete.

“You shaved. It’s nicer, less prickly.”

He turned to look at her, eyes heavy-lidded. “My valet couldna countenance the request.”

Oh, dear lord. “He knows!”

“He’s no snitch, and he’s no notion which lass I might be entertaining.” He paused. “Or lad, I suppose it could be. He’s sour with ignorance.”

Preshea let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, well, then, if you’d risk a hanging offense simply to divert attention from me…”

“Dinna think as I’d go that far, leannan sìth.”

She was inspired to be devilish and twist his meaning. “You’re ashamed of me as a lover, keeping me secret from your valet?”

“Daft lassie. You’ve a reputation to protect. One that doesna, so far as I’ve heard, include being one of those widows.”

“No, I’m considered too dangerous for dalliance. Except by foolish Highland captains.”

“Exactly so. Now, am I risking much if I ask to be untied?”

She evaluated him. He was still fully aroused and no doubt eager to seek his own satisfaction.

She was not averse. But she was not willing, just yet, to cede control either.

“No, I like you captive.”

He gave a plaintive wiggle. Which caused certain parts of him to flop about in a ridiculous and highly unthreatening manner.

“I’ve plans, sir,” she instructed, tone severe.

He brightened. “Aye? Weel, I’m at your mercy, then.”

He was indeed. Preshea elected to take ruthless advantage of that fact.

She rode him again, the ties allowing her to set the pace with little influence from him, although he was straining and growling near the end and the bed frame was creaking in a most alarming manner. It was wonderful, all that coiled muscle vibrating under her with nowhere to go, and no means of release except what she permitted.

In the end, she dismounted and used her hands; far gone into lust though she might be, children, as she had said before, would be a liability. She found she enjoyed watching him spend himself to her will, at her dictate, under her touch.

Afterwards, she untied him. Feeling warm with release and delight and flushed pride at her new skills. She was also disconcerted by her decision to return to his bed. She’d no excuse for loving him a second time. So, why did I?

Preshea Villentia refused to lie to herself. To others, all the time. To herself, never.

I wanted him. Simple as that. And he made it plain he was available to my desire. Already I want him again. And I will want him tomorrow. And the night after.

But the house party would end, and they would go their separate ways, and she would never see him again unless she chose. And he would never see her again unless she chose, because disappearing was also one of her skills.

She left the bed, reaching for her dressing gown. “So, tomorrow night?” I’m weak in the face of massive Scotsmen. Or at least this one.

“I’m na giving over my banyan, lass.”

She met his mock seriousness with her own. Good, tonight they would not talk about matters of the past or the heart.

“As if I would ask such a thing. Although I am glad you gave over the beard.”

“Mawkins will be suspicious.”

“I suggest you shave before supper. Perhaps that will allay his concerns.”

“You’re a devious creature.”

“You have no idea.”

“You secured the house before you came to me?” He reached for her hand, dangling at her side, and stroked her wrist with his callused thumb.

“Of course. Formerly Connie sends her regards. I believe she has a tendre for you.”

“Poor lassie, to die so young.”

“Still thinks we are engaged, wants to know when we’ll be telling her family.”

“Aye? When will we?”

“Please don’t.”

“Lass, I want this clear – I’d apply for the position of fifth husband, if you’d permit.”

“Oh, yes? Here I thought you desired a long and happy life.”

“Aye, lass, but I’d as soon a shorter one with you than a longer one without.”

“Careful what you wish for.”

“Lass—”

“No, don’t spoil this. Don’t make me remind you.”

“Remind me of what?”

Preshea took a breath. She had so hoped for a few more nights together. “It’s not lies, what they say about me. I’ve killed, and I was glad to do it, and it was easy. I should do it again if necessary. I’m good at it.”

“Dinna think my soldiering was all larking about in foreign lands. I’ll wager I’m a better shot with that little revolver than you are, and as like to kill more people with it. What matters that I did it all open-like, under sanction of queen and country? ’Tis still killing. I know how you feel.”