“With all your boasting of how much riding you do, it is amusing to consider how difficult it has proven for you to . . . gain the saddle . . . in this instant . . .”

She laughed again but backed up when he rose from the tub. His body was magnificent. His chest was thick with muscle that continued down to a lean belly and thighs that were defined with ridges. He reached down and grasped his own cock, his fingers stroking it and drawing her gaze to the swollen flesh.

“Now, lass, it is not only the stallion that wants to cover a mare. The mare leads him on a merry chase to fire up his appetite before allowing him to mount her.” He climbed over the side of the tub and didn’t bother to use the toweling set out for his pleasure. The water streamed down his legs, the candlelight making him glisten.

“Ah . . . the chase . . . well then . . .” She unwrapped the toweling and tossed it aside. Gordon’s face split with a smile. He spread his arms out wide and bent slightly at the knees. The man was ready to lunge at her. The knowledge sent a crazy twist of excitement through her that was rooted deep inside her feminine nature. She turned and ran.

She heard his wet feet slapping against the floor, but they dried too quickly, leaving her no way to gauge how close he was. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she couldn’t control the need to look back over her shoulder.

Gordon’s face was a mask of savage pleasure. He offered her a growl moments before he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She squealed, but he laughed heartily and spread one large hand over her bare bottom. He turned and covered the space to the bed with quick strides. She bounced in a tangle of limbs when he tossed her onto the sheets. His body rising up over hers looked impossibly hard and demanding. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as nervousness invaded her. He placed a knee on the bed, crawling up to join her.

“Do nae lose yer trust in me now, lass. That would wound me more surely than an arrow.”

He placed one solid knee between her thighs, and she flinched in spite of every bit of confidence he had built in her. His expression tightened, his eyes filling with concern.

“I do have faith in you, Gordon.” Jemma lifted her hands, reaching for him. He lowered his weight, spreading her thighs with gentle motions of his hands before allowing his body to settle on top of hers. A soft murmur of enjoyment crossed her lips. There was something intensely satisfying about having his weight on top of her, something that she had never expected.

“’Tis something I treasure, lass.”

He framed her face in his hands and pressed a kiss against her lips. It began as a slow motion of his mouth against hers, but his passion burned too hot to maintain the slow pace. His kiss became harder, more demanding, and she opened her mouth to allow his tongue to penetrate. Her body ached for the same thing, and her thighs rose up to clasp his hips in invitation.

She felt the head of his cock nudging at the opening to her passage again. Her hands tightened on his shoulders as he began to move forward. It was slow but steady, his hard flesh tunneling into her softer core. Her head arched back as pain began to burn along her passage, hundreds of pinpoints of pain where the skin was refusing to stretch.

“Easy, lass, ye can take me. ’Tis the way ye were made, to take my length.”

His words were soothing, but her body still hurt. His hips pulled back and thrust into her once again. This time his cock split her, burrowing into her in spite of the resistance her body offered him. His flesh was harder and it pressed onward, opening her passage with a slow thrust that sent the breath rushing out of her lungs. He withdrew again, offering her relief from the worst of the pain, and she dragged a deep breath in but it went rushing back out when he thrust smoothly into her again. This time his cock traveled deep, the hard flesh lodging itself all the way inside her. The bed beneath her back kept her in place, making it impossible to move away. She was forced to endure the burning pain while her passage adjusted to being penetrated.

Yet the pain subsided fast. Jemma opened her eyes when she realized that there was naught but a dull ache remaining.

“Aye, lass, that’s the worst of it.” He pulled his length free and then thrust forward again. This time, without the burning pain, she was free to feel his hard member stroking along her clitoris. It produced a spark of delight that traveled to where her passage echoed it when his flesh was once more deep inside her.

“And now, I’ll introduce ye to the best of it.”

He began to thrust in slow motions, but there was still a hard edge to each stroke. Jemma heard herself moan, and she couldn’t have controlled the sound if she had tried. Her body was completely focused on the hard flesh tunneling into it, her passage eagerly taking him now while her hips lifted to ensure that he penetrated deeply each time. There was no reason to think or even keep her eyes open. She wanted to sink back into the pool of sensations produced by the action of their bodies moving together.

“That’s it, lass, work with me, show me the pace ye like.”

“I will . . .”

His breathing was turning rough, and his hands twisted in her hair. His thrusts came faster and harder, shaking the bed beneath them. But she enjoyed the pace, her body eagerly meeting it. Pleasure tightened inside her with each deep penetration from his member, the sliding motion of his withdrawing building a growing desperation to have him impale her again. She lifted her hips up, almost frantically seeking out his next plunge. Her heart raced and she could feel his pounding when he pushed his length deep inside her and their bodies were pressed tightly together for a moment.

The pleasure he’d given her with his mouth paled to the delight boiling inside her now. This was deeper and more intense. Her hips bucked off the bed to take his next thrust quicker, and when he pressed completely inside her it burst, forcing a cry from her lips. She arched, and her thighs grasped his hips while the sensation tore through her, wringing her body and bathing it in satisfaction. Gordon plunged a few final times into her with rough thrusts before he let out a harsh sound and she felt his body pulling taut. Deep inside she felt his seed spurting out to soak into her womb. The hot stream of fluid triggered another soft contraction of pleasure from her body. This time her passage tried to milk his member, tightening around it to pull his seed forward.

The pleasure reduced her to a quivering mass of muscles. She lay on the bed, uncaring if her hands were flung out like a broken doll. She lacked even enough strength to pull them closer to her body. She only had the will to breathe, her chest rising and falling in deep breaths while her heart beat with hard motions beneath her breasts.

A soft kiss was pressed against her lips before Gordon rolled off her. He slid an arm beneath her waist and pulled her against his side. Her head was pushed down onto his chest, and she heard his heart rate matching her own.

“I swear it is going to be the warmest winter ever in this chamber.”

Jemma smiled, but she wasn’t sure if it was due to his words or the soothing strokes his hands were making over her, long passes of his hands over her back and along the curve of her hip. Gentle strokes that were tender, so tender she felt tears stinging her eyes because he certainly didn’t have to be so caring; he was her husband not her lover.

Maybe he could be both . . .

Jemma tried to hush her inner voice. It was a dangerous idea, one that promised her heartache if it did not blossom. But she failed because there was already too much tenderness between them. She could not shut the doors to her feelings; they felt as if they were blocked open.

“Why did ye insist on the bed?”

Gordon sounded sleepy, but his hand froze on her shoulder. “I did nae think to ask ye before. Ye had a reason, yea?”

Jemma buried her face against his chest, hoping the man would think her exhausted. She didn’t want the tensions of the day to shatter the moment.

“Tell me, Jemma. I will nae have ye keeping things secret from me that are important to ye.”

“And I do not plan to be a wife who whines to you of every trifle.”

He drew in a stiff breath because it didn’t take him long to deduce what her reason was now that passion wasn’t distracting him. “Who questioned yer virtue?” His tone was hard now, and he sat up, taking her along with him to sit her next to him. He cupped her chin and raised it before giving her the chance to do it herself. His pride was wounded, and it shone in his eyes.

“That is it, isna it, lass? Who spoke against ye?”

She shook off his hold. “Don’t treat me like a child, Gordon.”

“Then answer me like a woman who is nae trying to hide the answer.”

She shrugged. “It does not matter who spoke, what is important is how many listened.”

He frowned. “’Twas Anyon. No one else would dare or worry about yer place here so much.”

Jemma scoffed at him and tried to move off the bed, but she froze when she caught sight of the sheet. Bright red blood marred its surface, drawing a shiver from her in spite of her desire to see exactly this.

“I am going to put her out.”

“You will not, Gordon Dwyre.” Jemma didn’t care if her tone was something no wife should use with her husband. The Church would chastise her for it, her brother would disapprove, but none of that seemed to matter. Her dealings with Gordon had always been poised on the border of uncivilized behavior, and it was a truth that she enjoyed it.

“There are rules beyond the confines of this chamber, Jemma, that you know must be observed. She was my mistress, if ye may even call a few tumbles by such a title. She is to be turned out.”