Page 16 of A Savior for Branwen (The Welsh Rebels #2)

Chapter Fifteen

J udging from the darkness wrapping around them, it was still the middle of the night when Branwen awoke. A ray of moonbeam illuminated the bed where Matthew lay next to her, his naked, sculpted, perfect chest on full display. When had he removed his undershirt? Not that she bemoaned the loss of it for a moment, but he’d made a point of leaving it on when he’d joined her in bed earlier, presumably so as not to frighten her. She had thought it odd, considering they had already slept in the same bed twice already, and he’d been bare-chested the first time and fully naked the second.

A smile lit his face when he saw her looking at him. He appeared wide awake. Had he even slept? She wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t. The surprising fact was that after the day’s shocking events, she’d managed to fall asleep. But as soon as she had felt Matthew’s strong arms close about her, she had fallen into oblivion, comforted in the knowledge that nothing bad would happen to her while this man was holding her.

“No screaming today?” he breathed, his face mere inches away from hers. His now familiar scent, spicy and masculine, as comforting as a hug, wrapped around her.

“No.” A smile tugged at her lips when she remembered how she had almost pierced his ear—and hers—the day she had woken up next to him at the cottage.

“Does that mean you’re getting used to being with me?”

“It might.” So used, she wanted to be with him night after night. “You didn’t sleep?”

“No. I could not.”

She knew from the strain in his voice that he had spent the night watching her in the moonlight, fighting the urge to touch her, reliving what she had been through in that rose garden. He would be berating himself for allowing Bryn to get to her, but she didn’t blame him in any way.

“Why did you remove your undershirt?” she asked, her gaze skimming over the panes of his chest. The man was magnificent. And he didn’t seem to be aware of it.

He gave a slanted smile. “Because I was burning hot. I’m used to sleeping naked, if you must know. I made an effort at your cottage and kept my braies on, but today it is spring and unseasonably warm. However, if you prefer, I can?—”

“No.” This was perfect. Such beauty should never be hidden. Tentatively, she extended her hand—and stopped before she could actually brush her fingers against his skin. It looked warm and inviting, as soft as an animal pelt, with its covering of short golden hairs.

“You can touch me, if you want.” When she hesitated, he took her hand and placed it over his pectoral. Holding it just over the place where his heart was beating, he whispered, “Here. Not so scary, is it?”

But it was. Not in the way he meant, but it was. “You know you’re the first man I’ve ever wanted and it …”

Her voice broke. How could she tell him she was afraid of touching him because then she would want him to touch her? And if he touched her, she might start to feel pleasure in his arms. And that definitely frightened her. Would he understand? It seemed such an impossible thing to feel. There was nothing more normal than wanting the person you loved to touch you, to give you pleasure. But because of Bryn and all those men, Branwen had always been afraid of her body’s ability to feel. It had seemed wrong, like something she did not deserve.

“I understand. It scares you.” He stroked her jaw tenderly. “It doesn’t need to. I will never hurt you, never do anything you don’t want me to do. You do know that, at least? It would kill me if you doubted it in any way.”

“No, I know you would never hurt me.” This was never in doubt. The issue was with her, not with him. “I trust you.”

There was a long silence during which she focused on the beatings of his heart under her palm, strong and even, soothing.

“Do you think you could allow me to show you pleasure, sweetheart?” Matthew asked, his hand still covering hers. “I know it frightens you, and why. I know you think you do not deserve it but, forgive me, I cannot help myself. I want to make you see that what your body feels can be a beautiful thing, make you understand what it is capable of.”

“Will it ...” Her voice trailed, because she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to ask. All she knew was that the offer was tempting.

“I will be with you all the way. It will not hurt, and we will stop whenever you need to. I will not take you, not until you’re ready, until you ask me. This is for you, nothing else.” He nuzzled at her throat. “Tonight I will only stroke you, if you let me, show you what pleasure is. It doesn’t necessarily have to involve a man taking possession of your body. It’s something you could do all by yourself.”

Yes, she had heard of this, and she had on occasion tried to put her hand between her legs. It had never achieved anything other than make her feel wretched. “I’m not sure that can be achieved.”

“It can. I will show you, if you let me.”

Perhaps because it was dark, and not daylight; perhaps because the man next to her was talking in English, not in Welsh; perhaps because she was in Castell Esgyrn and not at home, surrounded with the memories of the assaults she had endured; perhaps because she had finally told Bryn she’d never wanted him, for the first time Branwen was able to push her fears to the back of her mind and relax in a man’s arms.

Perhaps because that man was Matthew.

Slowly, her eyes hot with unshed tears, she nodded. “Show me.”

“If I may, I will touch your hair first.”

“My h-hair?” she stammered. This was not what she had expected Matthew to focus on. It was certainly not what she had touched on the rare occasions she had wanted to experiment with her body.

“Yes. Like this.”

Strong fingers weaved themselves through her hair and clipped nails started to rake her scalp. He moved his hand slowly, exploring every inch of the sensitive skin covered by her hair. No one, herself included, had ever touched her there. “Ah, yes,” she could not help but rasp. This was incredible and, closing her eyes, she allowed the sensations he provoked to bloom inside her.

“What you’re feeling is already pleasure, Raven. Don’t fear it, you’re allowed to experience it.”

For a long moment he massaged her in that manner, then he brought his lips to her ear. “Will you allow me to stroke your feet?”

“You want to stroke my feet?” Her words came out slurred.

“Your feet, your arms, your neck, everything. I want to stroke every inch of you, make you forget anyone ever touched you against your will.”

Those men had never brushed her hair or even seen her feet, but he wanted to erase the trace of their touch from her soiled body. It was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever done for her.

“Please,” she said, barely able to speak through the lump in her throat.

His fingers, warm and firm, took hold of her left foot. For a long moment, he stroked everywhere, varying the pressure, brushing the instep, circling the bone at the ankle, massaging the sole. A gasp caught in her throat when he took her little toe into his hot mouth and sucked. This was heavenly. He was focusing his attention on parts of her no one had touched, building her trust, behaving as if it pleased him to be touching her thus, and it gave her …

She started to breathe more rapidly. He’d been right. It gave her pleasure.

Not the kind Bryn had claimed she felt in his arms, not a pleasure sexual in kind, because true to his word, Matthew was not taking her, only making her discover what her body could make her feel. This innocent pleasure she felt she could handle, she could allow herself to enjoy. She felt like a caged animal who’d known only cruelty at the hand of its captor and had finally been freed. Though it was now able to roam free, it was irresistibly drawn to the first kind human it had ever met.

As if he’d guessed the direction of her thoughts, Matthew whispered. “Don’t think, just feel. Allow yourself to feel and if you want me to stop at any time, just say so. I will stop.”

Stop? No! That was the last the last thing she wanted him to do.

Once again he understood what was going through her mind. “If you want more, I will give it to you. If you want me to touch you somewhere else, I will.”

“What about you?” she managed to croak.

“Me?” There was a growl. “Oh, I’m having such pleasure right now. You smell so good, you’re so soft, so beautiful, you feel so good in my hands.”

While he lavished compliments on her, he carried on massaging her feet. And it was not long before Branwen wanted …

“More,” she said in a rasp. “Please, more.”

“Your leg?”

“Yes.”

“Can I lift your shift?”

“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate. “Stop asking, I trust you. Do what you wish.”

“Very well, but remember, I will not do anything you don’t want me to do. I will stop whenever you need. You won’t even have to ask me … I will feel it if you tense up.”

“Matthew, please. Don’t make me beg. I could not do it. But I promise you I want this.”

“Sweetheart, so do I.” His hand traveled up her leg, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Oh,” she said when he reached the sensitive skin at the back of her knee. “Oh,” she said again, when his fingers skimmed the inside of her thigh with infinite delicacy.

Everywhere he touched felt reborn, cleansed. When his palm covered her most secret place, she said the word she had never said when a man had put his fingers there.

“Yes.”

Go slowly , Matthew kept repeating to himself. You don’t want to scare her, not now, when she has gifted you with her trust .

Never had he felt his responsibility more keenly. The last thing he wanted to do was to frighten Branwen or cause her to recoil in shame when he showed her how much he appreciated her reaction to his caresses. He knew why she would be wary of feeling, or worse, expressing her pleasure. That bastard, Bryn, had used her moans of protests and sobs of pain as proof that she enjoyed his assault.

He knew different, of course, but he understood why she would feel unable to let herself go.

A more unlikely couple he could not imagine. The virgin whom everyone assumed was an indefatigable seducer of women and the victim of abuse whom people mistook for a seasoned harlot.

His finger glided through wet silk. Ah, so her body was responding to his ministrations. And his … his was about to burst.

“I thank you for the gift you’re giving me, sweetheart, the most precious I’ve ever been given.” He lay next to her, so he could speak in her ear while he stroked her intimately. “I hope to repay your trust with the pleasure you deserve. I wish you knew how good it feels to have you in my arms, so warm and willing. You’re the first woman I have ever lain with, and I want you to be the last.”

He was not sure what he was saying, all he could do was keep talking and focus on making his caresses as delicate as he could. This, at least, he was not new to. By necessity, he had only ever touched the women he desired in that way, and he had learned what gave them the most pleasure. He was confident in his ability to coax a response from Branwen with his hand, even if he would have preferred to do it with his mouth. That would have to wait, however. For now, he could not risk shocking her. They would have to take this step by step.

Under his skilled fingers he could feel her melt and quiver. She was close, even if she didn’t know it, even if she thought she could not access the pleasure her body was capable of.

And then he heard it. The most beautiful sound in the word. Branwen moaning for him, allowing him to hear her pleasure, allowing herself to feel—and express it.

He almost stopped, not knowing what to say or do. This was a turning point in her life and he didn’t want to ruin it. Should he acknowledge what was happening, and risk making her self-conscious or ignore her moans and make her believe he had not understood the significance of the moment?

In the end he decided to join her. He let out a series of low grunts and whispered endearing terms in her ear, licking the lobe, tasting her, kissing her. To his delight she responded immediately, moaning even louder, pressing herself against his hand.

“Yes, just like this, sweetheart. Let it come. You’re beautiful. So beautiful.” And then he knew exactly what he could say to show her how much he appreciated her trust. She had bared her soul, conquered her fears for him—the least he could do was reciprocate, bare himself to her. “I love you.”

The three little words hurtled her headlong into what he knew was her first orgasm. It was fierce, and almost triggered his own. To feel her spasming around his finger was the single most rewarding thing he’d ever felt.

Then she stilled, while her body recovered from its long-overdue release.

“You love me?” There were tears in her beautiful eyes, tears he wiped away tenderly.

“I do. And I love that you let me know how much you love what we’re doing.”

“You are going to make me cry,” she complained, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. “But I don’t want to cry, not now.”

“You do what you need to do.”

He felt her nod slowly against his neck. “I … I want you to take me.”

Everything within him surged. His heart leapt. His nostrils flared. His cock, already hard, jerked. Nevertheless, he had to be certain they were not rushing things. He had not meant for this to happen tonight, but when she was ready.

“We don’t have to do this. I can pleasure you all night if you prefer.” His hand landed on her hip. He would not even feel he was missing out.

“No. There is a heat inside me telling me I do want more, I want … you . Please, Matthew, make me come with you inside.”

It was his turn to still. How on earth was he going to make her come before he erupted? As soon as he slid inside her wonderful heat, he would come. It was inevitable. Her words had sent him perilously close to explosion, and now he was asked to do something he wasn’t sure he was capable of at the best of times. Matthew had never used his cock to pleasure a woman before, and he had no idea how to do it. It was not as if being a skilled lover was an innate skill. It had taken him time to understand how to move his fingers, where to touch or how fast to swipe his tongue, and he had become quite proficient at it. But he’d had no practice whatsoever at taking a woman. How could he ensure he pleased Branwen on his first try?

Never had he felt his inexperience more keenly.

“Love, I would like nothing more than to make you come around me, but I’m not sure I will be able to. You know ...” He might as well be honest with her, as he knew she would not mock him. He placed his forehead against hers. “You know I’ve never made love to a woman. Last time, you were the one who took me. To my shame, I didn’t do anything.”

No, nothing, except almost pass out in the most explosive release of his life. He didn’t want that. Tonight he wanted to make sure she was satisfied.

“I’ve never made love to a man either,” Branwen answered, looking at him straight in the eye. “This is new to me too, and I’m not sure how I will handle it. Nothing that happened to me with the other men bore any resemblance to it. But I want to try, with you.”

With those words she sat up and removed her shift in one bold gesture.

How could he refuse her now?

“Then we will learn together.”

Kissing her as if his life depended on it, he settled himself between her spread thighs, and placed the tip of this throbbing shaft at her entrance. Though strictly speaking it wasn’t the first time he’d felt her heat around him, it was the first time he was in charge. It made a world of difference.

He pushed in, inhaling as a sensation, almost too acute to be called pleasure, pierced the small of his back. With some effort, he bit back the series of curses wanting to spill from his lips. He could not let it out, fearing it would cause him to spill his seed at the same time. He had to control himself. This could not be over before it had even started.

He withdrew slowly, feeling resistance all the way, as if Branwen’s body wanted to suck his right back in, and never let him go. He plunged back again, and again, faster each time, deeper each time.

“Yes!” she mewled.

And all at once it was too much. The heat was too much, the tightness was too much, the joy of hearing her moan was too much. He came, pouring all that was good inside her.

Then he collapsed.

After such a powerful release, Branwen thought she would not have the energy to move, but when Matthew gave her a luxurious, lingering kiss that made her tingle all the way down to her toes, her sensitized body responded immediately. She blinked. How had she turned into such an insatiable woman?

“I’m sorry, love,” he mumbled, “but you felt too good.”

“How is me feeling good a problem?” she managed to say through the haze of satisfaction.

“Because this possession was too quick to satisfy you.” He kissed the side of her neck. “I told you, I’m too new at this. I wish I were a more accomplished lover, the skilled lover you deserve.” Another light kiss landed on her collarbone. “I wanted to make it last, to make it good for you.”

What was he talking about? Did he really think it hadn’t been good? Although, now that she thought of it, he was right. It had not been good, it had been so much more than that.

It had been a rebirth.

Taking advantage of her stillness, Matthew slowly licked one nipple, then the other, before drawing it into his mouth, and sucking on it languorously. Branwen lay there, unable to move, only able to enjoy the attention he was lavishing on her. How could he think she would want him any different? He was perfect the way he was.

“Just like last time, it was too quick, and I didn’t see to your pleasure.” His lips followed a path to her stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Incredibly, desire bloomed anew in her body. Oh, she had become insatiable! How was that possible? Surely she’d had enough by now? “But unlike last time, you haven’t fled, you’re still here in my arms, all soft and warm.” He tongued her navel in such a provocative manner that she felt herself go red to the roots of her hair. What was this man doing to her? His every action was provocative. “And I’m not going to let you go until you’ve reached your release.”

Her release? She inhaled. “But I already?—”

The rest of the sentence was lost in a croak because his mouth, which had been hovering above her hipbone, covered her intimate folds. They were still throbbing from his possession and slick with their combined releases.

Never had she imagined anyone doing anything so scandalous.

“Matthew?”

“Branwen?”

“Are you …?”

“Am I ...?”

She almost laughed at his whimsical answers, but she could not laugh with a man lying between her spread legs and his mouth so close to her core.

“Matthew!” she repeated, in shock this time, when his hot tongue licked a path along her seam. What was he doing? He’d kissed her there, and that had been wicked enough, but now he was licking her!

“Do you mind if we carry on this riveting conversation later? Right now, I want to feast,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. That sound caused her insides to spasm, as if to appeal to him. “Ah, you taste divine, my love. Of you, and me. Of my woman. No one but me is going to touch you ever again, no one but me is going to hear, taste, or see your pleasure.”

Nothing he could have said could have moved her more. Nothing he could have done could have aroused her more. Her body, which had been sated a moment ago, started to feel empty. As if he’d known, he slipped a finger inside her, and then covered her quivering flesh with his lips. Heat seared her.

“Matthew!”

“Yes, that’s me. Let me make you come, in my mouth this time. Let me have your pleasure again. I had my turn, now it’s yours.”

After that he stopped talking and used his mouth to bring her to the pinnacle of ecstasy. It happened with dizzying speed. Everything spiraled out of control and burst in an array of light. Or was it heat? Or was it joy? Branwen couldn’t tell. All she knew was that her life would never be the same again.

“Matthew.” A sigh.

“Is my name all I’ll ever hear coming from your mouth from now on?” he drawled, laughter and love dancing in his voice. “I don’t mind.”

She didn’t even have the strength to smile back.

It was obvious from the way Branwen blinked at him when she woke up that she hadn’t realized she had fallen asleep after their lovemaking. Matthew’s heart melted.

“How long have I been asleep?” She sounded so aghast at the idea of having overslept that he couldn’t help a smile.

“Long enough to let dawn pass,” he said, nuzzling at her neck. “I was still lying down on my stomach with my mouth between your legs when you dropped dead.”

Her face went crimson at his vivid description. “Why did you do that? I had no idea such a thing was possible.”

That did not surprise him in the least. None of the bastards who’d taken her to bed would have bothered offering her this gift. They had been guided only by selfishness and lust. Had he been too bold? Should he have waited until she was more familiar with what her body could do to pleasure her in that way? It had been a very intimate, wicked thing to do to a woman who was not aware it could be done, especially considering he’d only just fucked her. But he had been wild with the need to make her come.

“Would you rather I hadn’t?” he asked, lifting himself up onto one elbow. “If you prefer, I won’t?—”

“No!” She sounded horrified, as if the idea of him never using his mouth on her again was too dire to contemplate. No wonder. He’d yet to meet a woman who didn’t like being licked thus. “I loved it. All the same, I cannot help but wonder why you did it.”

“I told you. I didn’t want to be the only one to reach my pleasure, like the last time.”

Damn it all, he would have to learn some control. He was a man of thirty summers, not a lad of thirteen! He could not get carried away thus, he owed the woman he loved satisfaction in his arms.

“But you weren’t the only one reaching your pleasure.” Branwen flushed, and he loved her for an admission he knew would not be easy for her to make. Up until last night, she had been afraid of feeling pleasure.

“Yes, I know, I saw to it that you climaxed beforehand, but I?—”

“Not only beforehand. It also happened when you … didn’t you feel it when you were inside me?”

Matthew was stunned, because no, he hadn’t. All he’d known was that he’d suddenly been seized by the need to empty his seed inside her welcoming body. He groaned, flopping onto his back, as he understood that the spasms of her climax were what had triggered his own. And he’d missed it, thereby showing his inexperience and lack of knowledge as a lover.

Bloody bleeding hell. Could this get more humiliating?

“Please, Matthew, look at me.” Branwen came to drape herself over him, her slight weight barely registering.

“I feel so wretched … I wish I were the lover you deserve.”

She placed herself so close to his face that he had no choice but to look her in the eye. “Listen to me, English. You are the lover I deserve, the only one I’ve ever wanted. You are perfect the way you are, generous, patient, understanding, and passionate.”

Oh, he was that. But he was also untried in many ways. “I mean, I wish I had more experience so I could?—”

A light finger landed on his lips, silencing him. Branwen looked uneasy but determined to get her point across.

“Forgive me if you don’t like what I’m about to say, but I don’t regret you being inexperienced. I like the idea that you were a virgin before me, I like that we are learning this together, I like that I’m the only woman you ever possessed. It makes me feel unique.” She blushed an adorable shade of pink, and suddenly he felt like the manliest man in the world. “I was never anything but a receptacle for men’s lust, men who might well have been more experienced than you, who had bedded scores of conquests and yet didn’t have the skill to please a woman or the inclination to do it. You made me come three times, when it had never happened to me before, once with your fingers, once with your mouth, once with your?—”

The part she hadn’t dared name reared its head, as if to indicate it was ready to service her again.

“Aye,” he growled, drawing her to him possessively. “I did that.” It had been beautiful.

She smiled when she felt how hard he was under her, then bravely carried on. “So I fail to see what more you could have done.”

Is that a challenge, Raven mine?” With a jerk of his hips, he quickly reversed their positions so he was the one trapping her under his throbbing body. “Then you should know that Connor always told me my left arm was just as strong as my right, and I believe I have teeth that could be put to good use as well.”

“Ah, I see.” Her eyes twinkled. “Do you mean to spar with me, or eat food in bed, perchance?”

“There will definitely be some rolling around and nibbling involved,” he warned, nipping at her earlobe, the action mirroring what he would do to her core the next time he got his mouth on her. “Because you’re all mine now, to have, to hold, and to devour.”

He started to do just that. Dear God, he could have nibbled at her for hours. She was soft all over and she tasted so good … His mouth trailed along her neck, in search of her breast.

“Matthew?”

“Mm?” He knew that when she started to call his name thus, it was a good sign. It meant that she was losing her mind. But this time she sounded … somewhat diffident. He drew back to look at her, ever conscious of not frightening her. “What is it?”

She hesitated. “Where can this go?”

“I can think of only one place.”

Marriage, of course. How had she not guessed it?

A shadow passed over her eyes, dimming the gold. “But you know I’ve been with all these men, what I did to them, what they did to me. You cannot possibly want to?—”

Matthew silenced her with a kiss as fierce as he could make it. He could not afford to let any doubt linger in her mind. He wanted her, regardless of what had happened. Her past was her past, unfortunately he could not change it. But her future would be his.

“I can and I will do what I want. What I need. I know you didn’t go to these men of your own volition and in any case, I care not. Even if you had gone to them willingly, it would not make me want you less. I told you, I love you. Nothing can change that, least of all a past that we cannot change, no matter how much we would like to.” He closed a hand over her perfect breast, the gesture possessive. “You are mine, Raven, and you had better start accepting it because I will never stop trying to make you see it.”

This was the most moving declaration Branwen had ever heard. Her heart melted, her body heated. How was it possible that this man wanted her after all he’d heard about her, after all he’d seen?

“Oh, Matthew, I love you too, I want to be with you too. But there are so many obstacles in our way.”

“Name them and I will shatter them one by one.” He threw her a warning glance. “And the first one had better not be the number of men who abused you. You already know how I feel about that.”

Though it was a concern in her mind, she saw she would only pain him by mentioning it. “Eirwen … I cannot just disappear out of her life. She needs?—”

“Eirwen will come live with us, of course.”

Live with them? Was he serious? “Why would you burden yourself with a?—”

This time he stopped her with a finger on her cheek. “Hush. I am doing no such thing. It is no burden to have your sister with us. She is not a simpleton who would bring shame upon me, in the same way that you are not a whore ready to cuckhold me at every turn, but a wronged woman.” The crude words were meant to shock her into acceptance, she knew, and she loved him for it, for fighting for them, for not letting her doubts or what people might say get in the way of their happiness. “You are the woman I love, and she is my sister-in-law. Or, at least, she will be when you become my wife.”

“Your wife?”

“Well, would you like to be?”

“I would like nothing more but?—”

“No but. That’s settled. You’ve allowed me to love you, you’ve allowed me to show you pleasure last night. Now, will you please make my life complete and marry me?” He paused, his face deep in concentration. “ Wnei di fy mhriodi ?”

“You ...” She laughed through her tears. Who would have thought Matthew Hunter would ever ask her to marry her, in Welsh no less? She still remembered their first encounter, when he had mocked her and Esyllt for speaking a barbaric language. “So you really are learning Welsh?”

“I am, for my sins. It is a fiendishly difficult language.” He pursed his lips. “Only for you would I attempt something like that. I hope to be well compensated for my trouble when we are married. Because, in case you didn’t know, the proper response to the question I asked you is ‘yes’, not ‘so you really are learning Welsh?’.”

“But ...” How could she agree, even if she wanted to? It was not all about her. He’d asked her to name the obstacles to a union between them, and she would. “You know what people will think when you marry me,” she said under her breath. “You will be mocked at best, goaded at?—”

“Let them think what they want, I care not. But if anyone ever dared open their foul mouth in front of me, they had better be prepared to hear exactly what happened to you while I rip their bollocks off their bodies.”

“I … They might not all be men,” she said weakly. Some of the most violent comments she’d heard had been uttered by women. It seemed that there was no compassion to be had, only ill-placed jealousy.

He cradled her face in his hands, a smile flowing on his lips. Her heart flipped over in her chest when she saw how utterly untroubled he was by the prospect of marrying her. He was not lying to reassure her. Her past really did not matter to him, the jibes he would face really did not worry him, and he really was prepared to offer her sister a comfortable life, and her the family she had always wanted.

It was too good to be true.

“Branwen, look at me. I love you, remember? I told you as much when I was stroking you last night. Poor love, you might not have heard me, what with what was going on between your legs.” How could he tease her so? Of course, she’d heard him, that was what had pushed her over the edge. It had given her the reassurance she needed to let go of her fears and allow pleasure to flood her body.

“I did hear. I do remember.”

“Then you must understand that I won’t have anyone making you turn away from what we both want and deserve. A chance at happiness and a loving family.”

“I won’t.” Her voice wobbled dangerously. “But I don’t know how I could bear it if our children ever got to hear about me and what I did to?—”

“Not what you did, what was done to you. It is not the same at all. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Matthew cut in, as fierce in his defense of her as ever. She melted. With this man on her side, she could face anything.

Perhaps … perhaps he could offer her what no other man she knew could. A life away from pain and humiliation and the people who would always think her no better than a whore. Here was the opportunity to start anew.

“If we married, would you take me away so we can live in a place where no one knows me? Where I could meet people without fearing them recognizing me? Where I was in no danger of meeting men who had abused me?” She bit her bottom lip, realizing the enormity of what she was doing. It wasn’t fair to ask him such a thing. “Forgive me, of course, you might prefer to stay here with your brother. I understand.”

He nuzzled at her neck. “Connor has his own family now. He doesn’t need me. But you do, and you are my priority now. I will do whatever makes you comfortable. We’ll go back to England, to Sheridan’s Manor, if it pleases you. I can look after my brother’s affairs there, which I’m sure he’ll appreciate, because I don’t see him spending much time there, now that he has a home in Wales.”

“You would do that, after having already saved me?”

“I didn’t save you, sweet. You saved yourself, by being brave.”

“I love you.”

“So say you will marry me. I’m afraid I won’t be able to breathe until you have.”

“I will. You’re my life now.”

The kiss she gave him would leave him in no doubt about it. And if the fierceness with which he returned it was any indication, he shared her feelings a thousandfold.

In that moment, everything was perfect.

“I’ve changed my mind, you know,” Matthew told her when they finally drew away. “‘White raven’ is the perfect name for you. Not only are white ravens as striking and as unique as you are but you have the white here.” With those words he kissed her stomach, where the skin was the color of cream. “And the raven there.” He ruffled her intimate black curls and smiled. “But you never told me Branwen could also mean ‘beautiful raven’.”

“No.” She blushed. “It sounded presumptuous, I suppose.”

“Not presumptuous at all, only very apt. When we have children, I’d like them to have poetic, beautiful Welsh names.”

When .

That one word caused her heart to beat faster. Could she one day, with this man she loved more than anything in the world and who, by some miracle, loved her back, get what she had always thought would be denied to her? If only.

“If you gave me what I have never dared hope to have,” she whispered. “I’ll leave you to decide their names.”

“No.” He kissed her stomach again, swirling his tongue in her navel. “We’ll decide together. Always. But right now, I feel the need to nibble at something delicious.”

She stretched and allowed a wicked smile to touch her lips. “Shall we ask for some sugared almonds to be brought up then?”

He let out a growl. “Oh no, I want something much softer than that. Something delicate, and fragrant, and all mine.”

Branwen’s scandalized laughter was soon transformed into screams of rapture.