Page 18 of A Lover for Lady Jane (The Welsh Rebels #5)

“Don’t you dare call me ‘my lady’ after what we did, do you hear!

” She was bristling with indignation and he saw instantly that he’d been wrong.

She’d been incensed at his use of her title, nothing more.

His whole body relaxed. Thank God. He could breathe again.

“I couldn’t bear it, not now. I’m Jane to you, always will be. ”

“So, you don’t regret?—”

“I regret nothing. I wanted you, and you did exactly what I needed you to do. Everything was perfect.”

Perfect. Yes, it had been. And yet… “But you seemed so pensive when I found you.”

Her shoulders sagged and she averted her gaze. “Well, if you must know, I’m embarrassed.”

“Oh sweet, I’m so sorry.” As he’d feared, he had been too forceful, too assertive, he’d made her feel used.

As if that were not enough, he’d not been able to withdraw from her in time.

When she had closed her legs around him, he would have needed the strength of two men to free himself from the delicious embrace.

He hadn’t possessed the strength of half a one. “I should never have?—”

She cut him off by coming to stand straight in front of him.

“I’m not embarrassed by you, or by what we did.

” She hid her face against his chest, and he thought she breathed in his scent, such an intimate thing to do.

His heart missed a beat. “I’m embarrassed by my reaction to it all.

I made you stay inside me, I screamed my pleasure, and I was utterly?—”

“No.” He stopped her before she could berate herself for being too wanton.

“It is as you said, everything about what we did was perfect, you were perfect. A man’s dream.

” His dream. Just as unattainable. “You could never be anything other than perfect if you tried. And if you are guilty of losing your mind around me, then I am guilty of the same. I’m not myself when I’m with you.

Everything about you makes me wild with lust. When you talk, your voice caresses over me.

When you laugh, your joy makes my heart burst. When you moan, my groin aches.

When you walk and sway your hips, it sends me crazy with longing. ”

“It does?” She sounded hopeful, no longer ashamed.

“It does.”

Jane was amazed. Did she really swing her hips when she walked? She had never noticed. Nor did she think her voice particularly pleasant. Or her laugh. Or her moans. It mattered not, as long as Griffin liked them.

“And you are every woman’s dream,” she said, cupping a hand over his cheek. After almost a week on the road, he was now wearing a beard, the hairs on his jaw a shade darker than the ones crowning his head. He looked just like a Welsh rebel, her Welsh rebel, who had risked his life for her.

Her lover, who had just made a woman out of her.

“I don’t know about being every woman’s dream,” he mumbled, leaning into the caress.

Jane’s heart broke when she understood that he meant it. His life spent fighting against prejudice had made him think that people despised him; his misadventure with the woman who had betrayed him had made him believe women could not be genuinely interested in him.

“I do,” she said earnestly. At least he was the dream man she had never thought to find. “I wish I could?—”

“Young man. There you are at last! I believe you have a door to repair? Leave your wife be, she’ll still be waiting for you tonight, when my door doesn’t let in any more draughts!”

The old woman had appeared from the back of the barn, a walking stick in her hand and a twinkle in her eyes.

Jane reddened and drew away from Griffin as quickly as if his body had suddenly caught on fire.

With her hand on his cheek, his arm about his waist and their faces inches away from one another, they would indeed appear as if they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Looking caught out himself, Griffin ran a hand through his hair.

After their night spent in the hay, it was deliciously mussed.

He had never looked better than in this moment.

“Newlyweds, hey, I gather?”

What to say? Mercifully, the kind villager didn’t seem to require confirmation.

By all accounts, she had made up her mind about the two of them already.

Jane noticed her gaze had fastened on a point at the side of her neck and remembered the way Griffin had nibbled and suckled on her skin while he’d pumped inside her.

Dear God, had his teeth left a mark? She barely resisted the urge to cover it, not wanting to draw further attention to it.

As could have been predicted, Griffin was the one to put an end to the awkward moment. “I’m coming,” he told the old woman, straightening up with decision.

“Give your wife one last kiss if you must, but make sure you leave it at that. We don’t have all day. I’ll be waiting for you in the cottage to give you the tools you need.”

A moment later she was gone and Jane’s whole body sagged in relief. She felt like a naughty child caught with her finger in a pot of freshly cooked jam.

“I have to go,” Griffin said, looking contrite. “I wouldn’t put it past the old woman to beat me over the head with that stick of hers if I dally too long.”

Jane let out a giggle, relieved he was helping her get over her embarrassment. “No. You’d better go. After all you did promise to repair the door. Do you want some help?” she asked, as she followed him back to the barn.

He looked amused. “Why didn’t I guess you were skilled in carpentry?”

“I’m not, as you know perfectly well. But I can carry planks and hold things up for you.”

“Well then, yes, that would be most helpful.”

His answer pleased Jane. Most men she knew would have mocked her lack of skills, or insisted a lady had no place handling tools. Griffin saw her offer for what it was, a way of ensuring they wasted as little time as possible, and he was grateful rather than condescending.

When they reached the barn, Griffin stopped and turned to her.

Without warning, he removed his tunic, grabbing the collar at the back of his neck and pulling it over his head in one fluid motion.

He was not wearing his shirt underneath, so his smooth chest was revealed in all its tanned, muscular glory.

“W-what are you doing?” Jane’s heart had gone to her throat at the sight of such beauty.

“It will be easier to work without this, and besides, it will give it chance to dry in the sun. Fortunately, it is a warm day.” He nodded toward her. “It’s not pleasant to be wearing cold, damp clothes, as I’m sure you’ll agree.”

“Yes,” she conceded, looking at her dress. It had been difficult to put it on this morning, and she did not enjoy the way it was clinging to her body. “But I cannot do like you and remove my?—”

The words got stuck in her throat when his eyes sent sparks. “You would not hear any complaints from me if you decided to leave your gown and shift to dry in the sun while you lay naked as the day you were born. I would watch you until my eyes burned.”

Jane tried to swallow, found she could not. The image he was painting was so lascivious… “Would you?”

“Yes. But I agree it wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do. So let me go get the tools from the woman while you finish what is left of the ale and bread,” Griffin said, his voice rougher than usual.

Before she could answer, he turned and left. Shaking herself out of her torpor, Jane did as he’d instructed and entered the barn. There was just enough ale left in the flagon to soothe her dry throat. She drank it gratefully. A moment later Griffin was back, carrying tools—and a woolen dress.

“Here. I’m not certain it will be the best fit but at least it will keep you warm while your clothes dry in a patch of sun.”

Jane’s heart leapt at the idea of slipping on something warm and dry. She really was quite uncomfortable in the damp dress and shift. “Our friend lent it to you?”

“Yes.” He winked at her, stealing her breath. “I think she’s taken quite a liking to ‘the strapping young man’ that I am. She says I remind her of her Alfie, whoever that is.”

Of course, he would have charmed the woman. Old or not, she was still a woman. How could she have refused a bare-chested Griffin anything, especially if he’d given one of his bone-melting smiles?

“Thank you. I’ll get dressed immediately.”

Intent on giving Jane privacy, Griffin disappeared through the door. It had been a good idea to ask the woman—Enid, as she’d told him her name to be—to lend him a dress for his “wife” while her clothes dried.

It was only when Jane reemerged from the barn in the russet dress that he wondered if he had not made a mistake, after all.

The kind villager was a wizened old woman, and the dress had been made to fit her.

On her small, fragile body it would no doubt look innocuous.

On a tall, buxom lady who was femininity itself, it was almost indecent, and he could tell that Jane, though she could not see the effect as well as he could, was aware of it.

Her slender ankles were revealed by the frayed hem of the dress, her sensual hips were molded by the thin material, and, most daringly of all, her breasts were threatening to spill out of the bodice.

He could have stared at the glorious sight all day, but he forced himself to look her in the eye, not wanting to embarrass her further.

“I hope it’s all right,” Jane said, tugging at the top edge of the bodice, which rode very low on her chest. “It’s a bit tight.”

Mm, yes, and it wasn’t the only thing that was tight. The braies plastered to his lower body suddenly felt as constricting as if they’d been made out of iron. Griffin shifted on his feet to try and ease the discomfort.