18. Chapter 18

Chapter eighteen

"A rogue broods best alone—because no rogue worth his name allows feelings to ruin his perfectly good misery." The Rogue’s Guide to Refinement

B oyd sat by the window, the music sheet in his hands, the edges crinkled where his grip had tightened. The lines and notes blurred as he stared at them. He traced the faded ink with a finger as if touch alone could coax the melody from the paper. The room was silent, except for the occasional pop from the fire, the sound grating against his nerves. The quiet pressed in on him, each second stretching unbearably, the promise of sleep just out of reach.

Boyd shut his eyes, the notes on the sheet swimming behind his lids. His fingers curled, crumpling the sheet before he forced himself to smooth it out again.

The door creaked open.

His body stiffened, his heartbeat quickening. He glanced at the mirror. His usually neat appearance was disheveled, his jacket thrown over a chair, his cravat loose. She would think him even more of a savage.

“What do you want, Beth? I told you the challenges are over.”

Her skirt rustled as she stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her.

Boyd didn’t trust himself to look up.

“I’m not here because of your challenges.”

His temples throbbed as he pressed his fingers to them, expecting the confrontation he deserved—accusations, demands for explanations. “If you’re here to—”

“I have a challenge of my own.”

Boyd’s gaze shot to her.

She stood just beyond the edge of the Persian carpet, her back straight, her eyes resolute.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to disrobe for me.”

His hands fisted on the arms of the chair as his mind reeled. Where had this boldness come from? Was she mocking him? But her expression held no trace of humor. She was in earnest. God help him, she was serious. His English rose had grown thorns.

The room felt warmer, the crackling fire amplifying the heat that prickled along his skin. Her eyes were steady, unflinching as she met his gaze.

Would she never give up? Couldn’t she see he was not worth her? Boyd pushed to his feet, the chair groaning under the force. He opened his arms. “Do you want me naked, Beth? Then suit yourself.”

He waited, half-expecting her to hesitate, to retreat. Instead, she stepped forward, her chin lifted, her eyes glowing. His heartbeat quickened as he counted the seconds until she arrived.

The room went silent. But not the barren silence of his nights, but a pregnant one, filled with the sound of his own pulse drumming in his ears.

She was serious. She was not leaving. She was choosing him, even now, knowing him at his worst.

Beth touched his cheek, her fingers brushing lightly against his stubble before she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. How did one defend oneself from such a tender attack? The silk of the cravat slipped through her fingers as she unwound it, exposing his throat.

He swallowed hard. If this were her idea of torture, he was ready to confess anything she wished—and she hadn’t even touched skin.

She moved to his chest, her fingers deftly unfastening the buttons of his waistcoat. He clenched his fists at his sides, resisting the urge to seize her hands and hasten the torment.

If she goes any slower, I’ll break.

She attacked his shirt next, beginning at the collar and slipping the buttons free. With each snap, tension coiled tighter in his gut.

The fabric parted, and when cool air met his flushed skin, he shivered as if he were the virgin.

She eased the shirt over his shoulders. His muscles tensed beneath her fingertips, straining with the effort to remain still. This was agony—and he welcomed it.

Boyd didn’t trust himself to move.

Beth went over his clothing with the same quiet grace she brought to every challenge, a dignity befitting her rank but paired with the curiosity that was uniquely hers.

Her teeth caught her lower lip as she slid his braces from his shoulders, letting them hang at his sides. The gesture was simple, but it sent a fresh wave of heat through him.

I’ll be ruined before she even gets to the end.

Sweat trickled down his spine as her hands moved to his waistband, her movements unhurried. The fastening gave way, and as she slid the trousers over his hips, cold air brushed against his erection.

Confession? Hell, I’d pledge my soul if she asked.

Boyd cradled her cheek. She met his gaze, certain where he was trembling, cool where he was burning, tender where he was a storm.

“Why are you doing this, Beth?” He searched her eyes. “I proved to be the uncouth Scot your family believed me to be.”

Her gaze softened, and she cupped his face, her thumbs brushing along the stubble of his jaw. “You are so much more, Boyd. And you must believe me because a lady cultivates a critical eye, honing her ability to discern character.”

She took his hands in hers, pressing her lips to each palm. “These hands cradled Anne’s baby with a tenderness that belies everything you pretend to be. They are strong, yes, but capable of care.”

She kissed his shoulders, her breath warm against his skin. “These shoulders bear more than the weight of your business. They carry the trust of your friends. They admire you, because they know your loyalty runs deeper than any title.”

She traced the lines of his arms. His skin hummed, goosebumps rising in the wake of her lips. “You fight for what you love with fierceness. You think it’s all for power, but it’s not—it’s because you look after what you hold dear.”

Her lips trailed down to his chest. “And this heart... It beats with a sense of honor that made you cancel the dinner that would have humiliated me. Even when it cost you your revenge, you chose to protect me.”

The lass must be a sailor because with each word, she unraveled the knots inside him, things that had been tight and hurting for too long. His hands trembled as he gripped her waist, fingers flexing to hold her closer. She was good, this Beth. Too good. And if she could see all that in him—if she could believe it—then maybe it was true.

She leaned up and brushed her lips against the side of his jaw. “You may be rough, moody, and outrageous... but you are also honorable and courageous. When you said I shouldn’t lose my heart to you—”

“Beth, I—”

She silenced him with a fingertip above his lips. “I didn’t. You stole it. Like you lifted my hats and ribbons, you took it right out of my chest, and such a rogue that you are that I didn’t realize it until it was quite too late. I love you, Mr. Sandeman.”

Boyd stared at her, his chest tightening as if the very air conspired against him. “Damn it, lass, a winemaker’s wife isn’t supposed tae bring tears tae a man’s eyes,” his voice came out rough as gravel. “Ye keep surprising me, and I hope tae hell ye’re done, because—”

“Actually, I have a tiny bit of surprise left...”

She tilted her head, a mischievous glint lighting her green gaze. With a flick of her wrist, her coat slipped to the floor, and Boyd’s brain stopped working. There she stood—bare as the day she was born. Her fiery hair cascaded over her shoulders like molten temptation, and Boyd’s mind stopped working.

His mouth opened, then closed. He rubbed his eyes, half expecting to wake up.

“Beth—” His voice cracked. “Did ye lose the rest of yer wardrobe on the way here, or is this another Christmas gift?”

“You never stand when I’m present, Mr. Sandeman. You must not start doing it so now.”

With surprising strength, she pushed him back into the chair.

If he fell bare-arsed on the overlarge chair, overpowered by his flimsy lass, it must have been because she had shocked him senseless.

“What, I—”

“I want to give you pleasure. The way you gave me yesterday.”

She knelt before him, her eyes widening as she came face to face with the size of his desire for her.

The lass was a virgin, yet the way she looked at his cock was enough to burn a man alive.

When her dainty fingers closed around the base, a groan was pulled out of his chest. He had only moaned as loudly when a horse stomped on his foot.

“Any etiquette rules for this that I should know of?”

“Beth,” he rasped, tracing her lips with a finger. “Just do anything ye want. Anything at all, lass.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she blinked up at him. “Anything?”

“Aye,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “But do it fast, or just kill me. I’m not sure my heart can take the wait.”

She giggled. “Are you ready, then?”

“Any more ready, and I will poke a hole in the roof.”

The hours of temptation with no relief weighed on his balls, making his cock twitch and buck like a wild horse as her breath wafted over the sensitive skin. Eyes shining with her unique curiosity, she leaned over him. When her tongue came out to lick the head, Boyd gripped the armrests.

He died a little when she brushed her lips against his cock, and when she closed them around the smooth curve of the head, he went to heaven. And that was only the beginning. The wicked lass licked tentatively, her tongue flattening against him as if searching for sweetness in a snow cone.

Purring, her lips glided along the length, leaving a slick trail in their path, painting him in desire’s every shade. When a bead of pre-cum gathered over the head, she caught it with a quick flick of her tongue.

Boyd’s eyes rolled back in his head, his breathing shallow, as if he’d just swum a mile in a freezing loch.

Her little hands grabbed the base, and then she tilted it, pressing it against the roof of her mouth. The pleasure was too much, beyond what a rogue like him could endure.

She looked comfortable enough to last several hours with her new pastime, but he was hard enough to rival a claymore.

“Enough, Lass.”

Groaning, Boyd pulled her until she straddled him. He thanked the architect who bought such an oversized, throne-like chair.

When she settled atop him, he dried the moisture from her chin.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Would I be here, nude in your lap, if I wasn’t sure?”

“I think—”

For the second time this night, she shushed him.

“A winemaker should learn when to be silent.”

He was lost when she threaded her hands over his hair and pulled him in for a kiss. Her tongue pushed inside his mouth, and it was all he could do not to howl to the moon.

“I like kissing you, Mr. Sandeman.”

“Even naked?”

“Especially naked,” she whispered, her smile mischievous.

He let out a breathless laugh as she pressed closer. “Oh, I’ve gone and created a monster,” he muttered, barely managing the words between her relentless kisses.

He watched their reflection in the mirror—her fair skin made golden by the firelight, her red hair cascading down her shoulders, her back flaring into delicious buttocks. He cupped her ass cheeks, his hands’ bronzed skin vivid against the whiteness of her curves, and pressed her against his erection.

Lowering his hand slowly, he penetrated her sex, testing her with a digit. She was wet and tiny. His heart sped, his breathing shallow. This was going to be hard work. But they had all night.

“Are ye aware of what goes where, Beth?”

Her hips moved against him, her lips parting sweetly. “I have a rudimentary understanding, yes.”

Boyd let out a shaky sigh. “Thank goodness, because in my current state, an anatomy lesson would be beyond my endurance.”

She pushed closer, her heat brushing against his length as he circled her little bud.

“This is it, lass, ride my cock. Take all the pleasure you want.”

She came from the friction alone, her thighs trembling, a flush spreading from her chest to her cheeks as her lips parted in a breathless cry. She clung to him as though he were the only thing anchoring her to the world.

Boyd stood. His last thread of conscience told him he must carry her to the bed, that one didn’t deflower virgins while sitting in a chair, no matter how comfortable or expensive.

He stumbled twice in his haste, and when he finally arrived at the massive four-poster, he could have released his arms from around her. His cock was so hard it could carry her by itself.

He placed her in the center of the silk sheets.

She was untried. And he was harder than a randy goat.

When it came to sex, he liked naked, messy, and hot. How did one bed a virgin lady?

He crawled to her, and because her legs were open and her sex was there, glistening, he devoured her, just because he could. When a climax made her shudder, he climbed to her side.

She was lazy now, her hair in disarray, her eyes heavy-lidded.

He knew all the Venus in Furs ’ engravings positions, but better rule out any acrobatics.

Boyd turned her onto her side, guiding her as he stretched out behind her. His chest pressed against the soft curve of her back, his body enveloping hers. He smoothed his hand down her hip, his calloused fingers tracing the dimples on her lower back.

He kneaded her flanks, his palm pressing into her flesh, easing the tension that rippled beneath her skin. His breath fanned against her nape as he leaned closer.

“Love, this first time will sting a bit.”

Panting, Boyd traced the curve of her spine, revering her delicate lines. Taking his cock in hand, he brushed it against her entrance, his breath hitching as he felt her warmth.

“I’m going to enter you from behind,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, “so you can control how deeply I go. If I hurt you, love, clench your buttocks, and I’ll stop.”

She huffed, her brow furrowing as she glanced back at him. “Must I do all the work? I thought this was the time when a lady simply lay back and... well, endured.”

A chuckle rumbled from him, and he kissed her shoulder, lingering before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m a big man, and you’re little here, between your legs. We’ll take it slowly. Always slow.”

Her lips parted in a soft breath as she nodded, the blush blooming over her cheeks reaching the tips of her ears.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

Boyd positioned her leg atop his. His cock found the entrance to her sex like a divining rod bending over a hidden wellspring. His hips buckled of their own free and randy will.

She stiffened beneath him, her breath catching sharply.

What was he doing? His chest constricted. Dropping his head into the crook of her neck, he pressed a kiss there, his voice a rough whisper. “I cannot be the gentleman you expect, Beth.”

She arched her back, her hips pressing into him. “I don’t want a gentleman. I want you just as you are.”

Her admission shattered what little restraint he had left. He laughed, the sound low and uneven, as he dragged his tongue along the curve of her neck. “Then heaven help ye, lass.”

Slowly, deliberately, he thrust his hips. The head of his cock slid past her entrance, and her heat wrapped around him like molten silk. He brushed his chin against her shoulder, savoring the contact, and pushed deeper. Her luscious slickness stole his breath, her body a tight, welcoming haven.

A moan escaped her lips, sending a bolt of pleasure through him. He turned her face toward his, capturing her mouth in a deep, open-mouthed kiss, offering his lips as comfort. Two thrusts, and he met her barrier. She was so tight. He had to go slow.

Holding her hip, he pushed forward, breaking her maidenhead.

Her cry rang out, raw and unguarded, her head lifting from the pillow as her fingers curled against his forearm. Boyd stilled, his heart pounding fiercely, his lips drawing assurances against her skin.

“Shh... it’s all right,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with reverence as he paused to let her adjust.

Boyd trailed kisses over her cheek, her jaw. “No more pain, love. Never again.”

He began to move in slow, measured strokes, her tightness and warmth consuming him, each glide stealing the breath from his lungs. The ache was almost too much, but he welcomed it, determined to hold back until her pleasure bloomed.

He felt the shift in her when she relaxed her leg, the cheeks of her buttocks going lax, allowing him to enter her fully.

“Yes, lass, take me inside you, all of me.”

Boyd slid his hand over the curve of her hip, his fingers finding her clitoris. He circled it slowly, teasingly, coaxing her to feel the same fire that consumed him.

Beth’s eyes squeezed shut, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her hand.

Was he hurting her? His movements faltered.

“What is it, love?” His voice dropped. “Why are ye tense as a hare cornered by a Highland hound?” He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against her flushed skin.

Her lips trembled. “A lady’s passion must be softened by modesty.”

His breath came out in a sharp exhale, equal parts frustration and desire. This lass and her damnable guidebooks.

“Beth, not here,” he growled, his voice thick as he pressed deeper, filling her completely. He held still, making her feel every inch of him, his hands firm on her hips. “None of that in my bed. My Beth doesn’t hide.”

Her eyes fluttered open, the wide, green gaze locking onto his as her breath hitched. He tapped her mound, adding to his assault on her clit.

“My Beth,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, “can be wild, scream to her heart’s content. Let me hear your pleasure, love.”

A tremulous moan escaped her lips, and her body arched, her hips pushing back to meet his.

“Ahhh,” she keened, her eyes rolling as Boyd pushed deeper, grinding his hips into her backside.

“Louder, Beth. Fill my life with your voice.”

He thrust, and thrust and thrust, and her answering cry broke free, her body clenching around him.

Her head fell back against the pillows, her mouth open, breaths spilling in ragged gasps. She was a vision of unguarded beauty—milky skin flushed with heat, her curves pliant under his touch, utterly and entirely his. He pressed her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple in rhythm with the slow, deliberate strokes of his hand. Her release crested like a wild, untamed wave, her belly trembling against his palm, the sound of her pleasure fierce and raw, echoing through the room like a Highland battle cry.

He needed closer to her. Boyd withdrew only to guide her onto her back, his pulse pounding with the need to claim every inch of her anew.

Legs spread apart, she opened her arms to him. He lowered his weight to her, chest to chest, and slipped inside her sex until he was seated to the hilt.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her skin.

The bed creaked beneath them as he penetrated her, and he relished the sound of their lovemaking, a conquest over the silence that had plagued his life.

Boyd held her close as they pushed into each other. He didn’t know who was entering who anymore, both giving and receiving, both grounded and weightless, lost and found in each other’s arms. His vision blurred as she kissed his jaw, and his chest ached, his heart swelling to hold every bit of her.

“Sweet, sweet Beth,” he murmured, his voice rough and breathless as his lips traced over her eyelids, her brows, lingering over each freckle.

His climax hovered just out of reach, an unbearable tension coiling in his spine and radiating through every nerve in his body. Desperate, needing something of hers inside him, he claimed her mouth, sucking her tongue, tasting her as if he could consume her essence. The soft, yielding press of her lips undid him.

Pleasure surged through him in relentless, shattering waves, his shout tearing free. He poured himself into her, every pulse of release a surrender, his seed spilling inside her in long, delicious runs.

Boyd rolled away from her, breathless and spent, and stared at the ceiling—the same unremarkable one they’d just been shouting at together.

He would tell the architect to add a fresco up there. Something lively to inspire their whooping.

He turned his head toward her.

“Did I pass your test, Beth?”

She looked over at him, a teasing smile curving her lips. “A lady must test a second time, for only through careful attention can she be truly certain.”

He let out a deep, satisfied chuckle. “Och, what a cruel lass ye are.”

He reached over and threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing her hand. His body weighed a thousand pounds, every muscle pleasantly heavy. For the first time in as long as he could remember, his heart was light. So this was peace. Funny how he didn’t mind this new sort of silence.