Bertrice Small by The Last Heiress

Author:The Last Heiress
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2014-05-15T17:00:00+00:00

“Aye, I am attempting to seduce you, Baen,” she told him boldly.

“Do you mind?” She looked up into his face.

“Lassie, lassie,” he said almost mournfully, “I do not think this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” she asked frankly. “Don’t you want to be seduced?”

“If you were anyone other than who you are, Elizabeth, I would gladly succumb to your sweet blandishments,” he told her. Why was she torturing him so? And why was he allowing her to do so? He had to resist her.

“I am no one special,” she countered. “I am just plain Elizabeth Meredith.” His arms were so warm and comforting. She could live in them forever, she realized.

“You are a wealthy landowner, and I the bastard of a Highlander.

We have been over this before, Elizabeth, and I know you understand what I am saying,” Baen replied, attempting to remove her from his lap, but, defying him, she burrowed deeper.

“Of course I understand you, but it does not make any sense, Baen.”

Her fingers played with the laces of his shirt. “I am wealthy and English. You are poor and a Scot. We both know it, but why should such a thing stop us from desiring each other and acting upon those desires?” The shirt laces loosened, and she slipped her hand beneath them to find the smooth skin of his broad chest and caress it.

He felt her fingers stroking him. Then she twisted in his lap, and, lowering her head, she began to kiss his flesh and lick at one of his nipples. “Elizabeth!” he pleaded with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to make her stop. The little feathery kisses were exciting and oh, so sweet! Finally he pulled her up, and his mouth met hers in a fiery kiss.

His big hand unloosened her single thick braid and tangled in her soft blond hair. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Their mouths fused together again and again and yet again until Elizabeth was moaning with undisguised satisfaction.

Her lips felt bruised, and still she did not want him to cease. When he began to kiss her throat she could hear a roaring in her ears. She felt him opening her shirt as she had opened his. He was kissing her breasts, and she was crying out with the pure pleasure that was suffus-ing her whole body. “Oh, Baen,” she moaned.

Why wasn’t she telling him no? Why wasn’t she defending her honor and crying for her servants to drag him off and beat him for his presumption? The scent of white heather arose up from her body to as-sail him again. He buried his face between her small breasts. “Elizabeth! Elizabeth!” he whispered against her beating heart. God help him! He was falling in love with her. Nay! He was in love with her and had been for months. To be holding her in his arms, to be kissing her . . . it was more than he had dared to hope.

Her fingers wove themselves into his dark head. The touch of his mouth on her skin was utterly intoxicating.

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