“No,” he bit out.
“But your face—you’re in pain.”
He laughed a little wildly. “Not pain,” he said. He groaned. “Cassidy—”
“I only want to make you feel the way I did,” she said, and reached for him again.
He burst into motion, stripping off his trousers with no regard for their future state. He took Cassidy by the shoulders and lifted her up and back, laying her across the bed. He poised over her, head to toe. His chest grazed her nipples. He ached with the need to bury himself in her without any preliminaries, but for once he would not be so selfish.
She returned his kiss with unbridled enthusiasm. He indulged in her sweet lips and then worked his way down her supple body. Her breasts, firm and full, filled his hands. Her nipples grew hard at the touch of his tongue. Her little cries made the anticipation nearly intolerable, yet he couldn’t get enough of them.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as he caressed her stomach and her rounded hips. The lush scent of her arousal intoxicated him. He teased her curls, kissed the inside of her thighs, drowned in her fragrance.
Cassidy knew no guilt, no maidenly modesty. She moaned as he touched his tongue to her delicate femininity. He took the first taste, then another, deeper still. He stroked her, opening up the flushed, damp petals. Nestled between was the tiny bud, her most guarded secret; he drew it into his mouth and suckled it as he had her nipples.
Her thighs parted and her body arched against his. Her nectar flowed over his lips. He tested the way with his tongue, and she arched upward again, begging him wordlessly. She tugged at his shoulders, pulling him up, and in.
She was just as hot and tight the second time as the first, but now there was no barrier to breach. Tilting her head back into the pillows, she gasped in rhythm to his thrusts. It had never been like this with Milena. Never. Cassidy was unique. She was the impossible combination of innocence and erotic passion, simplicity and mystery.
And she was his.
Once more he led her to the brink before he allowed himself release. Her unabashed joy in her completion made him lose control. He filled her, was cradled within her afterward in profound peace.
“It’s time to return,” he said at last, raising himself but unwilling yet to be parted from her.
She sighed. “So soon?”
“Yes. There are arrangements to be made.”
“Arrangements?”
“I must obtain a special license for our marriage as soon as—”
“Marriage?”
“Did you think I’d take you and not provide the honorable protection of marriage?”
She flung herself up, legs locked around his waist and arms at his neck. “Oh, Braden—”
“It must be a private ceremony. The Convocation makes anything else impracticable.”
“But no one ever has to know that we broke the rules. I’m glad we did.” She kissed him and leaned back. “I knew,” she said softly. “I knew this was right. The way it had to be.”
He lifted her away and touched her face. “There is one thing I ask of you, Cassidy. As my wife, you must be prepared to obey me—and never question my work for the Cause.”
She was quiet for a full minute before she spoke. “I understand.”
The last remaining tightness left his chest. “I’ll bring water for you to wash.”
He used the few minutes apart from her to clear his thoughts, and then allowed himself the luxury of feeling, free of regret or censure. Cassidy hummed some lilting American tune under her breath as she dipped a cloth into the bucket of water and washed herself, completely unaware of the erotic allure of her ablutions. She radiated a pure exultation that humbled him.
She humbled him.
Half of her skirt was torn, but she did the best she could with it. He found his own clothes and dressed as well. Kinmont Willie was cropping the grass just outside the cottage; Braden collected his reins in one hand and Cassidy’s fingers in the other. Greyburn was just over the fell.
“You must stay here for a short while, Cassidy,” he said. “I’ll bring you fresh clothing. It will be best if we return separately to Greyburn.”