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“If you were to disobey one of my rules, which I highly doubt you will, being such a good little lass...” His eyes hold mine as he reaches up, gently stroking a lock of hair away from my face. “But if you did have a naughty streak somewhere inside that little red head of yours, you’d be punished. Thoroughly.”
Shock settles in, but words slip out. “Punished…how?”
He cups my face in his hand. “There are many ways to punish a naughty girl. Pain, yes, a good hard spanking on a bare bottom, but there are other ways, too. Ways that seem pleasurable at first but then become pure torture. Ever heard the term orgasm denial?”
The thought of what he speaks of makes my face burn with shame. And a curious wet heat creep between my thighs. Breaking our gaze, I shake my head, pulling my face from his grasp. “You know very well I haven’t heard of such things.”
“An innocent virgin. Exactly what I need for my bride. I’ll happily teach you the ways of the world. And I’ll take my time doing so.”
It’s too much. The heat of his words, the warmth of his embrace, worry, fear, and that underlying current that never seems to go away around him—something deeper, darker, thrumming with life and energy—all tangle in my mind at once.
I back away, wriggling out of his muscle-laden embrace. This time, he lets me go. Each pump of my heart beats with fear. He’s a dangerous man. And those calloused hands of his, rough from work, are massive, as much capable of causing pain as they are of creating pleasure.
I’ve been alone for so long. Curious about sex for so long. I can’t believe I’m even contemplating the idea of staying. The question is, do I want to stick around and risk the pain to feel the pleasure?
Or do I run the first chance I get?
He reaches out for me but stops as we hear footsteps and his name called out. “Callum?” His arms drop to his sides. Someone is heading toward this room.
Smoothing my hands over my skirt, I will the flush to drain from my face.
He steps back and calls out, “In here.”
“Finally found ye. So, it turns out the gold will take weeks to arrive. Do we want to wait or—” Freya’s eyes widen as she enters the scene.
I was standing there, face all peely-wally and flushed, him so close to me he could reach out and grab me.
Freya tries to recover from stumbling in on us. “Och! Hello there. Cheffie told me Callum was in here. Sorry. Didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”
“Let’s wait for the gold if it’s what you want.” Callum clears his throat, running his tattooed fingers over his beard as he addresses his sister. His gaze turns back to meet mine. “All good things are worth the wait. Aren’t they, wee one?”
An awkward moment passes.
“Gold it is!” Freya offers me a tight smile, retreating with her heels clicking as she goes.
“And Freya?”
“Yes?” Stopping, she turns her blonde head over her shoulder to face him.
Callum’s voice is low, the tone threatening. “Close the door as you leave.”
“W—why do we need the door closed?” I take a few shaky steps backward till I bump into the table's edge.
“We have more to discuss.” He steps toward me. “And I think you’d prefer privacy for this chat.”
“More to discuss…” My words trail off, my mind going into overdrive as I study his face.
Freya shoots me a look. “K.”
I can’t quite read the glance she gives me as she goes. An apology from one woman to another? Still, she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie. With the wallpaper sample book clutched beneath her arm, she does as her brother asks, closing the big oak doors one at a time.
My pulse races, perspiration prickling at my skin. I’m shaking, the cool air rushing over my bare legs. I should run. Tendrils of fear crawl down my spine, making chill bumps rise on my flesh. Glancing past him, I gauge the path between me and those double doors that lead to freedom.
And I take off running for them.
Chapter Seven
Fiona
