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Davina’s heart pounded as the blindfold hovered in front of her face. He didn’t try to force her hands, waiting instead for her permission. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged, until finally, she dropped her hands and gave a small nod.

He secured the sash snugly over her eyes, and the world went dark.

“Can ye see anything?” he asked, his voice close to her ear, breath warm against her skin.

“Nay,” she whispered, her own breath catching.

“Are ye certain?” He stalked around her and lifted the cloth from her cheek, peeking under the blindfold, letting in a sliver of light and his mischievous grin. “Ye’re not cheating, are ye?”

Despite herself, a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Nay, I’m not cheating.”

He chuckled softly, the sound curling through her like a breeze, warm and unexpected. His footsteps retreated toward the door, and her head tilted slightly, tracking the sound. The click of the lock sent a tremor through her, and she hugged herself instinctively. But she didn’t move.

His footsteps circled her, slow and measured, each one thudding softly against the floor. She flinched as the nursery door lock snicked into place. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard, her nerves raw and exposed.

He gently unfolded her arms and took her by the hands, his palms warm and rough. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Stop trying tae control the situation,” he said with tender admonition, his voice a low, gravelly caress.

She inhaled deeply, catching the scent of woodsmoke and the faint hint of lavender lingering in the air, mingled with the masculine spice of him. She forced herself to let him lead, her senses on high alert, every brush of air against her skin distinct and vivid.

She took cautious steps forward as he guided her. When her legs brushed the edge of the bed, she stopped, her breath hitching in her throat.

Broderick leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a kiss so tender it made her knees weak.

The chaste sweetness of it deepened as she responded, his hands caressing her skin and igniting her senses.

The world around her disappeared, leaving only his voice, his breath, and the fire he stoked within her.

With the blindfold covering her eyes, Davina felt stripped of everything but sensation.

Darkness behind her lids seemed endless, vast and consuming.

She was immersed in the sounds that surrounded her—the rasp of Broderick’s breath, the low rumble of his moans, the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

She felt his moist breath as he kissed her throat, the musk of desire filling the air, thick and heady.

Every feather-light caress of his fingers, every soft exhale against her skin, every light scrape of his beard sent shivers racing through her belly to her core.

He kissed her again, his lips tender and searching at first, barely brushing against hers. But as she tilted her head up to meet him, responding to his touch, the kiss deepened. His lips claimed hers with increasing urgency, coaxing her to give more, to surrender more.

His calloused hands moved slowly, reverently, sliding up her arms to cradle her face, then down to her shoulders. He kissed her as if savoring her, as if her taste were something he might never have again.

The heat of the room wrapped around her like a fur-lined cloak, but it was nothing compared to the molten warmth of his touch.

Deprived of sight, every brush of his fingertips blazed hotter across her skin.

He began to undress her with reverent care, his fingers working at the ties of her gown as though unwrapping a precious gift.

As her gown loosened and slipped down her shoulders, he pressed soft, lingering kisses along the newly exposed skin, his breath a warm sigh against her flesh. Gooseflesh prickled along her arms, a delicious contrast to the heat curling through her body.

With each layer of clothing he removed, he worshiped her.

His lips trailed across her collarbone, his hands brushing down her arms, her waist, her hips.

She stood trembling before him in nothing but her thin chemise, her skin pulsing, and her senses heightened to a degree she hadn’t thought possible.

Every rustle of his clothing felt like a roaring storm in her ears, every shift of the floor beneath their feet a reminder of how the world had narrowed to just this moment, just him.

Broderick’s hands smoothed over her body, exploring her curves with a veneration that made her breath hitch.

His touch was both protective and possessive.

His lips followed his hands, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck, across her shoulders, and along the delicate line of her collarbone. His mouth was a searing brand against her, every touch blazing into her memory.

When he finally began to lift the chemise over her head, the fabric slipped away, and she felt the cool breath of the room kiss her bare skin.

The air prickled along her exposed flesh, her body a canvas alive with sensation.

In the darkness behind the blindfold, she imagined the heat of his gaze, devouring her. She heard the rustle of bedcovers.

Broderick didn’t let her feel vulnerable for long. He scooped her up in his arms, and gently, he laid her on the soft mattress, the sheets cool against her heated body, the contrast a tantalizing shiver beneath her spine.

She reached for him instinctively, craving his closeness, but he caught her wrist before she could pull him down.

“Reach up an’ grab the headboard,” he murmured, his deep voice sultry yet commanding.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion and desire.

“Just trust me, Blossom,” he said, his tone gentling as he guided her hands over her head where she curled her fingers around the iron latticework.

A strange thrill of vulnerability and anticipation trembled through her, heightening her awareness of every sensation.

Broderick left the bed, and she heard the faint rustle of fabric, the soft slide of linen brushing against itself, followed by the quiet thud of his boots hitting the floor. Her heart raced, her pulse fluttering wildly in her throat as the mattress dipped under his weight again.

Her legs were spread gently as he knelt between them, the bare skin of his thighs warm and rough as it brushed against her softer flesh.

Broderick’s hands glided over her form—hot and coarse, his calloused hands smoothing over her breasts, her belly, her hips, a sensual exploration that left her shuddering and her core clenching.

His lips followed the path of his hands, searing her skin with each tender kiss, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“Ye’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her breast, his voice thick, rumbling like distant thunder.

She gasped softly as his fingers found the slick heat between her legs, stroking her with a wanton slowness that sent jolts of pleasure through her limbs, and she clutched the ironwork tighter.

The mattress sank further as he leaned over her, and the warmth of his breath brushed between her breasts like a sultry breeze. His tongue circled the firm tip of her nipple, causing a shiver of delight to travel down her spine. She arched into him and sighed.

“Last night,” he whispered against her breast, the vibration of his voice reverberating through her sensitive skin, “I brought ye nothing but pleasure. Have I ever taken anything ye hadn’t been willing to give?”

“You didn’t give me a choice last night,” she said softly, the accusation trembling on her lips, though her voice betrayed a breathy uncertainty.

His fingers still stroked her, drawing shivers from her depths. “Didn’t I?” he asked, his deep voice firm, winding through her like a whispered sin. “If I recall, ye begged me to fill ye. Or have ye forgotten?”

Her cheeks flamed at the memory, heat rising beneath her blindfold. She turned her face away, grateful the darkness gave her some sense of being hidden, though the pulse beating in her throat surely betrayed her.

Broderick chuckled, the sound rich and warm, as if he could see right through her. “Ah, ye look delicious when ye blush, Blossom.”

“That’s not fair,” she snapped weakly, her voice tinged with embarrassment. “You used my body against me.”

“We made the best of our circumstances,” he countered, his tone growing serious.

“But regardless, ye gave yerself to me willingly.” His mouth kissed a path to her other nipple, where his tongue flicked rapidly and strummed her arousal to a fevered pitch.

“I’ve never stolen a kiss from ye, nor a touch, nor a climax that ye didnae want. And I willnae start now.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, not of fear, but of something deeper, something that made her heart ache.

“When I promised ye’d only feel pleasure at my hands, I meant it,” he continued, his voice softening. “I’m not that brute ye married, lass. And if that bastard had still been alive when I arrived in Stewart Glen, I’d have made ye a widow meself.”

Davina’s breath shuddered at the protective growl in his voice.

“I’ll kill any man who tries tae harm ye or anyone ye love.”

His words sent a delightful shiver across her breasts as he leaned over her, his hard cock brushing lightly against her thigh. His lips captured hers again, the kiss deep and sensual, claiming her completely. She moved her thigh to enjoy the caress of his shaft.

His fingers returned to stroke a slow exploration of her quim, stroking her with devastating precision.

“Ye’re so fucking wet for me,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice thick. She groaned softly and felt his lips curve into a smile.

She reached for him again, needing to hold him, but he caught her wrists and guided them back to the latticework above her head.

“Not yet,” he whispered.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly, reaching again despite his warning.

“Do ye want me to tie yer hands down, then?”