Page 61 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“Linnet?” Something about his tone brought her out of her thoughts sharply.

“I’m yours,” she said simply and his gaze snapped to hers. He stared at her mouth a moment as if concentrating. “Again,” he said abruptly.

This was what he wanted? Linnet’s mouth almost fell open in surprise. “I’m yours,” she said hastily when he began to look tense.

Still breathing hard, he dropped to his knees before her and circled her slim thighs with his large brawny hands. “Open your legs,” he said, urging them apart.

Linnet placed a hand on his dark hair and wove her fingers through the wavy strands as he started raining gentle kisses on her inner thighs. He hadn’t been this gentle since their wedding day, she thought. And she liked it. Just as much as when he wasn’t. She sighed and leant back against the door as his warm mouth moved up and up.

“Pretty,” he said when he reached the red hair on her pussy. Catching her by the back of her knee he hooked it over his shoulder, opening her to him further. “Don’t fall,” he said huskily. “Lean back against the door.”

Then with a deep groan, his mouth was there, licking and sucking at her slit, making her catch her breath and whimper as he took his time with her, teasing her pearl and bringing her to her peak. Linnet’s back arched as she craned to get closer to his wonderful mouth. When she cried out, her fingers tightening on his scalp, he growled and gently sucked her through the aftershocks. Then when she was completely boneless, he straightened up and caught her up in his arms where he held her tightly against him, her back still pressed to the door, his breathing ragged in her ear.

“Wrap your legs around me, Linnet.” His thumbs brushed against her cheeks and he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her mouth. “You keep—I don’t know.” His words broke off.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t really know,” he repeated with a small shake of his head. “Forget I said it.”

“You didn’t really . . . well, say anything,” she pointed out gently, stroking the back of his neck. He was silent a moment. “Linnet,” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Let’s put that honey on your tits again.”

“Honey?” She frowned. “You mean the salve?”

“Salve, right. I meant the salve.”

“Do . . . do you think they look any bigger to you?” she asked, glancing down.

He lifted his head. “Do you want to know the truth?” He moved his mouth to her ear. “I’d be disappointed if anything changed about you Linnet. Anything at all.”

Linnet sucked in a breath, her mind reeling as he carried her over to the bed and made love to her with the thoroughness she was starting to expect from him.

It would be very dangerous, she thought in the aftermath, to fall in love with a husband who was going to leave her for months on end. She remembered Enid’s words about her late husband Lambert, who had been her beloved companion and best friend. How wonderful it must be to have that. But poor Enid, to then have it so cruelly snatched away.

“How is it that Oswald has never married?” she murmured into Mason’s chest and felt him stiffen. They were lying propped up on pillows, half-draped over each other.

“Why?”

“I just wondered.” She frowned. “I mean, he is older than you . . . I thought Enid Jauncey might be a very good wife for him. She’s a young widow. And terribly nice. And beautiful,” she added wistfully. “I would like to have her for a sister.”

She felt him relax beside her, though he gave a short laugh. “Not sure those are considerations my father would think relevant.” He paused. “It’s because of father that Oswald’s not married,” he added, his hand coming up to stroke her hair gently, massaging her scalp.

It felt so nice, Linnet closed her eyes.

“He arranges betrothals and drops them again at the drop of a hat. It’s all about alliances and power with him. Oswald’s had many engagements. By proxy of course. I doubt he’s met any of them. As soon as that family falls from favor or their fortunes take a turn for the worse, it’s broken off.”

“Why doesn’t Oswald choose his own bride?” She frowned, running her thumb down Mason’s ribcage.

“I suppose he’s not in any rush,” shrugged Mason.

She bumped her ear against his chest. “Keep still, I’m comfortable.”

She heard his rumble of laughter coming deep from his chest. “Oswald is the heir,” he continued lightly. “So naturally he’s father’s ace card. He’s wanted to keep him close at hand.”

“I suppose that’s why Baron―I mean, father―never betrothed him to me. Because he thought I was only good enough for his youngest son,” she murmured thoughtfully.