Page 28 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)

M addie started as a knock struck the narrow door of her tower chamber. There were so many stairs up to that high perch that no one visited her unexpectedly, least of all at night.

Oscar?

“Come in,” she called, her heart jumping into her throat.

Could it be that he’d finally realized what having Mr. Fallow around meant?

She still didn’t understand why Oscar had been so strange at dinner.

He’d remained more or less silent throughout, leaving with Ryder shortly after everyone was done.

But, perhaps, he’d come to explain, or to apologize, or to make her concerns go away in a different fashion.

The door opened and Oscar walked in, his gray eyes widening slightly at the sight of her. After all, the hour was late: of course, she was ready for bed.

“ That’s what ye wear to bed?” he asked.

She glanced down at the long nightshirt. A men’s nightshirt. “It’s comfortable.”

“Where did ye get it from?” There was a sharp bite to his tone, his eyes flashing for a moment.

She shrugged. “Miss Sutton acquired it for me, before I left to try my luck at the universities. I was pretending to be a man, so I couldn’t exactly wander around in a nightdress, now, could I?”

“Ye were wanderin’ around in that ?”

She rolled her eyes, annoyance prickling in her chest. This wasn’t how she’d expected a night visit from her husband to go.

“I wandered around my own room, yes. But there was no telling if someone might burst in to catch me in my ruse, so I took precautions.” She fiddled with the buttons of the collar. “Not that it helped, in the end.”

The glint in Oscar’s eyes dimmed, as he closed the door and looked around the room.

It was a pleasant bedchamber, with furniture that had been created to fit the round shape: a curved desk, a curved armoire, a round rug; even the headboard of the bed was curved.

Of a morning, the view was extraordinary, though there were a few elements that had taken some getting used to.

She suspected that this tower had once been used for valuable prisoners, a few echoes left behind in the iron rings that lined the walls, and the old garderobe.

“I see your mood hasn’t changed much since dinner,” she said pointedly, to hide the thrill of seeing him there in her bedchamber.

He looked at her. “Aye, well, I was tired after ridin’ day and night to get yer tutor to ye.” He wandered closer to her, where she sat perched on her writing desk chair. “Did ye enjoy yerself? What had ye so enraptured by toads?”

Some of his usual mirth had returned to his voice, prompting Maddie to wonder if she’d judged his silence at dinner too harshly. He had ridden back and forth to Edinburgh and, as far as she knew, he hadn’t rested yet. Perhaps, he really was just tired.

“I had a wonderful day, thanks to you,” she replied with soft gratitude. “Although, you might try to be a little less frightening toward Mr. Fallow. I should hate for him to end his tenure here early because you scared him off.”

Oscar stopped in front of her, reaching down to take her hand. “He touched ye.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it as he gazed at her. “Do ye want other men to touch ye, lass?”

The brush of his lips sent an electric shiver through the room, the atmosphere shifting from casual conversation to something altogether more... intense.

“He shook my hand,” she corrected throatily, “to congratulate me.”

He ignored her, brushing his thumb across her hand. “Will ye be a good wife and beg me to touch ye?”

“You are touching me.” Her voice hitched, giving herself away.

He smirked. “Ye ken that’s nae what I mean.”

“Well, it depends...” she murmured, biting her lip as he kissed her hand again in a soft, slow graze.

“It does, eh?”

She nodded. “It depends whether or not you’ll only be touching me when you’re jealous.”

He pulled her up sharply, his arm sliding around her waist, holding her flush against him. And as he whispered close to her ear, his voice carried an edge of danger, “I wasnae jealous, lass. I just dinnae appreciate others touchin’ what’s mine.”

“I didn’t think you were a fibber, Oscar,” she taunted a little; she couldn’t help it, when he had her entirely where he wanted her. “You were jealous. Why, I’m surprised you didn’t interrupt Mr. Fallow and me sooner, though all you would have seen was him talking and me writing furiously.”

His lips came within a breath of her skin, making her dizzy with want. “And if I’d been there in yer study instead of him? What would ye have done then?”

“I don’t know, because you weren’t,” she replied. “You didn’t stay long enough for me to show you how thankful I was.”

He groaned in the back of his throat, his hand slipping up into her hair, grasping gently. With a light tug, her neck arched, and his mouth sought hers in a fervent crush.

Forgetting any misgivings, forgetting that he might leave if she gave in to him, she kissed him back with equal fervor. She couldn’t help herself; she had been waiting since the last time to do this and, what was more, they were entirely alone with nothing but precious hours ahead of them.

She kissed him with everything she possessed, praying this meant that there would no longer be a rule about no touching, praying this meant there might be a wedding night at last. She knew the risks, but she also knew that he would keep his promise.

There would be no children for a long while yet, but she was certain there could be enjoyment without conception.

Their kiss deepened, his arms wrapped so tightly around her that she could barely breathe.

She ran her hands over his chest, smoothing her palms up and over his broad shoulders, lightly drawing her fingertips across his muscular back.

And as she looped her arms around his neck, sliding her fingertips into his hair, she pulled him even closer.

Just then, Oscar stopped... and Maddie’s heart sank.

He’s going to leave again, isn’t he?

Releasing her from his hold, he walked over to the drapes and drew out one of the ropes that held them back. Flexing the rope between his hands, as if to test its strength, he moved to one of the iron rings that hung from the wall.

Maddie watched, breathless, as Oscar looped the rope through the ring, as terrified as she was exhilarated.

“What are you doing?” she asked, the burn of his kiss still tingling across her lips.

He glanced back at her. “Come to me.”

As if enchanted, she put one foot in front of the other, looking up at the iron ring as she approached.

“Put yer back to the wall,” he said, his eyes dark with desire, though his voice was almost flat in its tone.

Swallowing thickly, her heart beating like a caged bird seeking release, as she slowly turned and took a couple of steps backward, until her back grazed the wall.

She had a thousand questions, but she sensed she was meant to be silent.

Obedient. The fear of him stopping and leaving her again was greater than her need to chatter, holding her tongue.

He seemed pleased, coming to stand in front of her, so close that she briefly lost the ability to breathe.

Unhurried, Oscar’s hands settled on her waist, so large and strong that his fingertips met one another.

She drew in a shuddering exhale, nervous with anticipation, as he slowly pushed his hands up the curve of her waist, running over her ribs, hooking underneath her arms. As he continued to push upward, she had no choice but to raise her arms, savoring the friction of his rough palms against her smooth skin.

The iron ring was the perfect height, she realized.

Pinning her hands against the wall, holding them there with just one of his hands, Oscar began to loop the rope around her wrists in a figure of eight.

Still slow and unhurried, as if he wanted her to experience every second of being tied up, as if he wanted her to know that, once she was, he would be free to do whatever he pleased to her.

I want to discover it all, she longed to tell him, barely holding herself back.

She gasped as he tugged on the knot he’d fashioned, to ensure it wouldn’t budge.

“Good lass,” he growled, as he ran his hands back down her arms, his palms skimming over the swell of her breasts, until they found her waist again.

He pushed her back against the wall; she hadn’t realized she’d arched away from it while he was tying her ropes.

“Dinnae move,” he murmured, dipping his head to graze a kiss down the curve of her neck. “I want ye to feel the cold stone while ye feel the heat of me touch.”

“But... I want to touch you, too,” she moaned, as he pressed flush against her.

At the peak of his thighs, she felt something hard, straining to be free of the coarse woolen barrier of his kilt. Her bound hands curled into deliciously frustrated fists, her fingertips itching to slide down his body to find out more about that hardness, and what it might lead to.

In the scientific sense, she knew what it was, but she knew nothing of it in the personal sense.

Grace had told stories about her experiences, but like the descriptions that Maddie recited in her mind, there was a difference between hearing something and seeing something for yourself.

Words were no substitute for the senses: how something felt, looked, tasted.

“Dinnae speak,” Oscar said thickly, kissing his way along her jaw. “Or I’ll have to put somethin’ in yer mouth.”

He caught her mouth with his, silencing any questions, any pleas, with a hard, hot kiss that rendered her unable to speak anyway. All she could do was kiss him back in kind, relishing the glide of his tongue against hers, the crush of his lips, the titillating rasp of his shallow breaths.

Oh, Oscar...