Page 34 of To Winter at Wildsyde

It was difficult to keep the words curt and impersonal when she wanted to be tender, but she did her best.

She sighed as the heat of his mouth closed over her, her fingers pulling at his hair, holding him firmly against her.

“Does this please ye?” The question was little more than a rumble of sound, warmth fluttering against her breast as he spoke.

“Yes, don’t stop.”

He did as she commanded until she was breathless and writhing in his lap.

“Take it off!” Ruth tugged impatiently at his shirt and he sat back, pulling it off, slow enough that she was allowed to revel in his obvious strength as he flexed his arms, lifting them over his head to tug the shirt free. She let out a ragged breath, her hands gliding over his big shoulders, over the swell of bicep and down his forearm, thick with wiry hair as her fingers trailed over him.

“So beautiful,” she breathed, awed all over again by the landscape of muscle and power that held her so gently.

He snorted, giving her an odd look. “Ye are all about in yer head, lass.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, touching him reverently, putting her hands to his face and staring into his tawny eyes.

She’d meant to allow him to keep his distance, to lull him into closeness, but it was impossible. She saw the damage in him too clearly now, wanted too badly to mend him, though she knew it was not nearly so simple as paying three score men to scurry like ants over Wildsyde, mending broken windows and replacing rotten timbers. Her husband hid his broken places in a way the castle could not.

“I see you, Gordon Anderson,” she said, the words fierce as she stared at him. “I see the good man you are trying so desperately to hide from me.”

He stilled, his expression growing dark, shutting her out.

She hesitated, knowing she was approaching dangerous territory. “I’m not like your mother, nor your sisters. I won’t make promises and not keep them.”

“What the hell do ye mean by that?”

Ruth paused, knowing she must tread carefully. “I found the portrait and… and well, I asked some of the locals about the family,” she said, not wanting to land Mr Clugston in the mire. “I know they left you, Gordy, and I don’t blame you for assuming I’ll do the same, but I won’t. I’d be a proper wife to you, if you’d only let me.”

He snorted, his expression one of disgust. “I did well enough without them, and I’ll do fine without a proper wife. Just because ye have some daft romantic notions about marriage does nae make them real. I never agreed to that.”

Ruth nodded, knowing that was true. “I know. You wanted the money, and I got to decorate and play house, but you never told me I couldn’t stay, Gordy. That wasn’t part of the deal any more than romance was, but I could make you happy if you’d give me a chance. I’d like to try,” she persisted. “Won’t you at least let me try before you make me leave?”

He shook his head but said nothing, retreating into silence and shutting the door on the possibility of letting her in.

Well, she wasn’t going to give up on him and if this was the only connection they shared, she’d use it to get closer to him. To show him how she felt. Ruth moved, sliding her body very deliberately against his. His breath hitched, his hands clamping around her hips, holding her in place as he rocked against her.

“You’re beautiful,” she insisted, breathing the word against his ear before nipping at it, tugging at the soft lobe with her teeth.

He growled and lifted her, positioning himself and thrusting inside. Ruth gasped, wrapped her arms about his neck and held on tight. He didn’t move, allowing her a moment to accept him before lifting her, his hands sliding beneath her backside.

“About time ye did some of the work, as ye are so intent on finding yer own satisfaction.”

The words were a challenge, his tone coarse and his eyes uncompromising as he retreated behind physical pleasure. He’d make this about sex, about their bargain, if she allowed it.

She did allow him to guide her, to help her find the way of it, the rise and fall as she lifted herself from him and felt the exquisite glide as he slid inside once more. It was easy to let go then, to rejoice in the physical, to meet his need with her own. It was good like this, she realised, to be the one in control, to watch his expression turn to one of agony as she slowed, tormenting him with barely there movements as perspiration beaded on his forehead. He permitted it, though, never demanding she do anything but use him as she desired.

It could only last so long, her own need as frantic as his, her own cries as loud and desperate as his as she careened towards the dizzying high that beckoned, and the climax crashed through her. His arms around her were so tight she struggled to breathe as he shattered in her wake, spilling inside her with frenzied, jerky movements that made even the sturdy chair creak and groan in protest.

Ruth collapsed against him, her arms about his neck as her hands stroked him, moving over his hair, over his damp skin, the heat of him burning beneath her palms. Lord, but he was always so hot. She would never be cold again, no matter how fierce the winter, if he would only deign to stay with her, to hold her through the night and not leave her alone before she woke. Even as she allowed the wistful thought, she felt the chill settling between them, felt him withdrawing from her.

It was not only the simple physical act of his body leaving hers, but the way he retreated, putting an end to intimacy, to any hope of finding her way behind the walls he erected around him. Unlike his castle, whose edges had softened over time, the walls about his heart seemed impenetrable, in excellent repair thanks to his constant upkeep. There was no stone to pry loose, no chink in his defences—or, at least, that was what he wished her to believe.

He set his hands to her waist, the wordless gesture inviting her to rise so that he could leave her, now he’d done his duty. Stubbornly, Ruth refused to move. With sudden inspiration, she let out a heavy sigh and feigned sleep, settling her weight upon him. He stilled and Ruth made her breathing slow and deep and even, wondering what he would do now, but determined to make him stay.

***

Gordy cursed. Well damn, why hadn’t he thought of going to sleep? It was his job after all, to take his pleasure and then lay snoring without a care in the world. Though this unforgiving chair was not a place he wanted to spend an entire night. His arse was already numb. Next time, he promised himself. Next time he would have her in the bed, and turn over and go to sleep until it was safe to leave without having to speak with her. It was too dangerous to do otherwise in the soft moments that lingered after lovemaking. He was not quite the bastard he needed to be to defend himself from the perilous blaze of emotion that rose to the surface when he’d taken his pleasure with her. No matter how he tried to make it nothing more than a physical exchange, she got beneath his skin with the beguiling mix of tenderness and fierce demand that she brought to their joining. He’d never known anything like it, like her.