Page 63 of Ensnaring the Dove
Colombia stared back at him, her lips parting.
Aedan’s frown deepened into a scowl. “I thought not.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the truth.”
Silence swelled between them before Colombia whispered, “Do youwantto marry me?”
Aedan muttered a curse in his own tongue and raked a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Colombia, we can’t travel this road.”
“Why not?” She took a step toward him, holding his gaze.
A muscle ticked in his cheek, yet he didn’t reply.
Her heart was pounding now, yet she held her ground. She certainly hadn’t visited Aedan expecting this, but now they stood toe to toe, she wasn’t going to let him retreat from her.
She was suddenly aware of his closeness, the scent of leather and wood on his skin, and the vibrant sea-blue of his eyes. She ached to reach out and touch him, but she forced herself not to.
“I was scared to break things off with Linus,” she said then, her voice lowering, “I thoughtpaterwould send me away, but he didn’t.”
“Severing your betrothal is one thing,” he growled, “but taking me as your husband is another. He’d disown you.”
“And I’d take that risk … for you.”
And she meant it too. She could talk her father around.
Aedan drew in a sharp breath. A faint blush had risen to his cheeks, and his eyes glittered.
Colombia didn’t move. Instead, she let silence fill the space between them.
Aedan stepped forward, and his hands closed around her shoulders. An instant later, he hauled her against him, his mouth claiming hers.
It was a wild, hot kiss—one that held nothing back.
Their lips, tongues, and teeth clashed. Groaning, Colombia leaned into him, wrapping her arms about his neck.
Gods, she’d missed this too.
She’d thought about Aedan far too often over the past two months, even knowing she’d never see him again. And although she was happy at Onnum, a hollow sensation vibrated through her chest when she relived the days they’d spent together. It was a sweet kind of torture—and so was this.
Aedan tore his mouth from hers then, trailing kisses down her jaw and neck. “Colombia,” he groaned. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
She whimpered an incoherent reply.
“I can’t be near you without wanting you,” he went on hoarsely, his tongue flicking the hollow between her collarbones. “I ache for you.”
“I’m yours,” she gasped in return. “And if we can’t stay at Onnum, we’ll go somewhere else … we’ll find a place where no one cares that I’m Roman and you’re Briton. All that matters is that we’re together.”
Another groan rumbled up from his chest, and Aedan pulled her closer still, the hard length of his body molding against hers. He then swung her around and walked her backward. The small of Colombia’s back hit the edge of the table, yet before she could shift away from it, Aedan’s hands had cupped her backside, and he lifted her up onto its surface.
Heedless of where they were, or the fact that Keir was preparing supper next door, Aedan nudged her legs apart with his knee, stepping between them.
The dominant move made hunger twist once more within Colombia, and she wriggled closer.
A soft groan escaped her when he pushed up the heavy folds of her stola and tunic, freeing her legs. Wrapping them around his hips, she drew him nearer still. He pressed himself hard against her, his hands stroking the outside of her naked thighs—and the feel of the hard rod pressing into her, even through the thick material of his bracae, made her writhe against him.
Although Briton women went naked under their skirts, Colombia wore a subligaculum, a skimpy undergarment. And the friction of the silky material against her, as Aedan rolled his hips, made her bite her lip.