Her brain dismissed the idea, for she could not fetch a priest and speak vows with so little time. It would never work. But her mind was caught up with a storm of thoughts swirling within her.
‘Do you still wish to wed me?’ she blurted out, rising from her seat. She could not look at Gavin while she spoke, for his very presence unnerved her. ‘Is that why you are here?’
He paused a moment. ‘In a manner of speaking. There is more I need to tell you.’
Her body went numb with anxiety, and it felt as if her breath caught in her lungs. She squeezed her hands into fists and forced herself to face him. ‘And what if I said yes?’
He hesitated again. ‘You may not want to wed me, after we have spoken.’
She would wed the devil himself if it meant avoiding the Norman. And there was one way of doing so, a way that would end any chance of marriage with Rhys de Laurent.
Her face burned with humiliation, and she could hardly bring herself to voice her idea. Instead, she blurted out, ‘Do you...want me?’
For a long, painful moment, he didn’t answer. She closed her eyes, wishing she had never spoken at all. He would make excuses and leave. Her heart sank, and she berated herself for even asking. Of course he wouldn’t want a woman like her. She was plain-faced with bright red hair and a body that was bony instead of soft.
But he rose from the stool and came to stand behind her. His hard body pressed against hers, and he drew her waist to him, so that she felt the warmth of his breath against her throat. ‘From the moment I kissed you, I have thought of nothing else.’
Her breath released in a ragged gasp, and his mouth pressed against her nape. Gooseflesh rose over her skin, and she now knew that she could do what must be done.
‘Then claim me,’ she pleaded softly. Seduce me so that I no longer have to wed Rhys de Laurent. She needed to bind this man to her, to ensure that there was no chance of being forced to marry the Norman.
Gavin’s body went rigid, and his demeanour transformed. Slowly, he turned her in his embrace, tilting her chin up to face him. ‘Lianna, there is something you must know.’
She didn’t want to hear reasons or excuses. This was her chance to escape a marriage she’d never wanted, and she was willing to sacrifice her innocence for that. And so she stood on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against his in a hungry kiss.
* * *
Rhys de Laurent knew he was a bastard. He had come to her room to tell her the truth, to reveal his true name to Lianna, and to discuss whether they should end the arrangement. He’d been willing to consider giving her to Warrick instead, especially after the death of her brother.
But from the moment she kissed him, offering her sweetness, all logic disappeared. She opened to him, and when he slid his tongue into her mouth, she gasped and moaned, pressing her hips to his.
His body was already rigid with desire, and her softness only ignited those forbidden needs. She believed he was a Highlander, a man who would take her away from Eiloch and give her the freedom she wanted. He knew that, just as he knew she would despise him if she knew who he really was. Was this seduction meant to bind him to her? Was she trying to escape their marriage?
Her hands slid through his hair, and she murmured against his lips, ‘I can hardly breathe when you touch me.’
Rhys responded by bringing his palm to the curve of her breast. She wore a woollen gown, and he could feel the cockled nipple beneath it. He teased it with his thumb, and she shuddered.
He had been with women before, but none who reacted so strongly. The look of pleading desire on her face nearly brought him to his knees. He wanted to spend all night pleasuring her. But if he dared to voice the truth, all of it would end. This beautiful woman would look upon him with hatred, demanding that he leave. Although the voice of reason tugged at his conscience, he couldn’t quite bring himself to speak. This woman would become his wife, and if he accepted her offering, there would be no turning back. All he had to do was remain silent.
Was it so wrong to desire a woman who begged for his touch? Especially when it meant consummating an arranged union? He decided that he would give her what she wanted, as long as she was willing. If she faltered or asked him to stop, he would do so without question. And soon enough, he would have his answers.
She reached for the laces of her gown. ‘Will you help me with these?’ Her brown eyes were hazy with need. ‘My hands are shaking.’
He rested his hands upon the laces and pulled one out, then the other. ‘Slow down, Lianna.’
She closed her eyes as he continued to unlace her. He lowered the gown to her shoulders and pressed his mouth to her skin. ‘Are you certain this is what you want?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was breathless, but the anticipation in her tone held fear as well. He hesitated, resting his hands against her shoulders, giving her time to pull back.
But instead, she pulled the gown lower, baring her shift. The fine linen was slightly sheer, and he could see the faint rosy tint of her nipples. Her auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders, and the force of his desire roared through him.
God help him, this was wrong. He knew he should not take this any further, for she would despise him once she learned the truth. But a dark hunger flared within him with the need to touch this beautiful woman.
Rhys was starving for a taste of her, and a vain part of him hoped that he could bring her such pleasure she would change her mind about wedding him. He cupped her cheek and slowly trailed his hand down her throat. She closed her eyes, her lips softening. Slowly, he lowered his hand, brushing his knuckles against her taut nipple.
A shuddering gasp erupted from her lips, and her hands dug into his shoulders. He stroked the erect tip, and she leaned her head back, her expression rapt with yearning.
Never could he give this woman to his brother Warrick—or to any other man. Not when she reacted so strongly to his touch.
Rhys lifted her in his arms and brought her to sit upon the bed. She started to remove the shift, but he caught her hands. He needed to give her one last chance to guard her virginity. For if they continued down this path, the marriage was inevitable.
‘This wasn’t the reason why I came to you, Lianna,’ he said. ‘If I join with you, you must become my wedded wife afterwards. Or if you want me to stop touching you, I will.’
She framed his face with her hands, her face flushed. ‘Don’t stop.’
* * *
Lianna knew this was wrong. She knew it down to her very soul, but she had come this far, and she could not wait any longer. Her father would come to her chamber with Rhys de Laurent, and if she were caught in Gavin’s embrace, that would be the end of her betrothal to the Norman. Rhys would never accept a woman who could be expecting another man’s child.
For that reason, she knew there was no return from this path of sin. She had made her choice, and she would abide by the consequences later.
‘So be it,’ Gavin growled. He removed his shirt, pulling it over his head.
She was spellbound by his hard muscles, fascinated by the reddened scar that ran across one rib. More than anything, she wanted to touch him, to know what it was to feel this man’s flesh upon hers.
He knelt before the bed and touched her bare feet, tracing her soles. Instead of being ticklish, his touch was sensual, awakening her. As his hands passed over her ankles and up to her calves, he caught the hem of her shift and lifted it higher. She wanted to help him, but the intense stare in his dark blue eyes warned her not to move. His hands slid over her inner thighs, and she was aware of the sharp contrast between his heated palms and her cool skin.
Between her legs, she felt a yearning, to be filled by this man. He would take her body, and afterwards, she would no longer have to wed the