Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
And that I can drink to.
Except, it’s a lie of course. Marrying Iona “won’t be a problem?” It’s laughable how wrong it is. I may be a strong man, but with her, I’m weak. With her, my defenses are shattered. She brings me to my knees.
…And she did, quite literally, earlier.
I growl at the memory, the lust and the fire rising inside of me. I’m alone now in my quarters, my friends gone. Catriona’s already come by to say hello, along with another frank but lie-filled talk about “politics.” She even made a joke about Iona carrying on the tradition of my wives keeping separate quarters.
Drinking at this point is a necessary medicine to cover the guilt of my lies, as well as the guilt of my desires. Because the fact of the matter is, there’s nothing that could pull me from this course now. Not after I’ve tasted those lips. Not after I’ve tasted far more than that. I grunt, my pulse thundering and my cock swelling at the memory of pushing Iona’s skirts high and letting my eyes settle on her slick, tight, pretty little cunt. The pink, pouty, dewy lips. The light blonde hair covering her mound. The way she moaned so sweetly. The way she tasted like heaven.
…The way I can still taste her on my tongue.
Whiskey won’t dull it. Time won’t make me forget it. And all my talks and lies of “political reasons” won’t change the fact that the truth is, Iona Campbell is the only woman in this world that I want. She’s what I crave, and desire, and hunger for, above all else.
The truth is, this whole situation with Darcy could be nonexistent, and I’d still be sitting here with my every thought firmly on the very off-limits, very forbidden little temptation lying under my roof—beguiling me, entrapping me, and possessing me.
I knock back the rest of my glass, and I’m reaching for more, when I stop myself. And instead, fire roaring through my veins, I stand. I stand, and I’m on the move, storming out of my quarters and heading down the hallway. It’s late, but I don’t care. I take the stairs quickly, down another hallway, my every step a beat of my heart. My every breath breathed with her name on my lips.
No more dancing around this. No more holding myself back. No more denying myself. No more denying us, actually. Not anymore. My muscles are clenched tight, my blood like fire in my veins when I finally come to a stop at her door. I raise my fist to knock, when I stop myself short.
No.
No knocking.
…She’s to be my wife, after all.
And so instead, I grip the handle, turn it, and swing the door wide as I storm inside, my thoughts and my desires swirling around me like smoke as I barge into her world.
Iona gasps, sitting up in her bed with wide eyes as she grasps the covers to her body.
“My lord!” She swallows, her cheeks pink and her big blue eyes shining even in the low light of the moon through her windows.
“What are—”
“You,” I growl, my voice low as I close the door behind me and point at her.
She shivers.
“You, lass,” I groan, moving towards her. “You’ve bedeviled me.”
Her brows knit.
“Me? This was your idea!”
“Aye, but you—”
“Don’t put this on me,” she spits, her own little storm clouds rolling over her face. “You knew what you were doing, before,” she says quietly.
“As did—”
“No, I didn’t,” she says quietly. She gasps sharply as I come to a stop beside her bed, my eyes blazing down into hers.
“I—I’ve never…” she blushes. “I mean, no one’s ever done that.”
There’s a tenderness to her voice—a softness and an innocence that somehow blows away the clouds surrounding me. My shoulders unclench, as does my jaw, and my eyes soften.
“No?”
Iona shakes her head, and I lower myself to my knees beside her bed.
“And what else has no one ever done,” I growl quietly.
She swallows. “Anything?”
My brows go up. I was quite sure she was a virgin, but… well, there are things girls her age may get up to without giving away it all. And with her being in France for all those years, I assumed…
…It appears I may have done so wrongly.
“Nothing? Not in all those years in Paris as pretty as you are?”
Iona blushes, biting her lip.
“There—there was a Duke’s son.”
I growl—animalistically, possessively. Furious at this little shit of a boy I’ve never even known and never will. But I want to kill him anyways.
“One kiss,” she whispers as my jaw grinds tighter.
“And then I slapped him.”
My teeth unclench, and a grin spreads across my lips. Our eyes lock, and there’s that spark again, burning hot between us.
“And me?” I say quietly. “If I were to kiss you, would you slap me too?”