Swept Off Her Feet (Swift Justice) by McLeod Dinah

Author:McLeod, Dinah [McLeod, Dinah]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2013-11-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Libby

“Maggie seems much improved since her whipping,” I remarked, studying my reflection in the looking glass that had been a wedding present from my own mother.

“Hmm, might be, but I suggest you stop speculatin’ on other people’s business,” Wesley ordered, giving my bottom a firm pinch. I hadn’t finished dressing yet, and I felt it keenly. “Unless you’d like a whipping of your own.”

I lowered my eyelashes demurely. “Yes, sir. No, thank you, sir.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured in my ear, making me shiver.

The sky was still dark, as it always was when Wesley got up to start work. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the soft, warm quilt and close my eyes, but I knew that he would not take it well. Never mind that my newest sister, Abigail, wasn’t rising until well after dawn. When I’d mentioned it, my husband had told me, with that all-too familiar warning in his deep, masculine voice, to stop borrowing trouble and worry about myself.

“It’s her honeymoon,” he’d insisted. “Let her be.”

I had wanted to reply that I’d been shown no such favors, and certainly not a week after my marriage, but I swallowed it, where it would sour along with all the other things that went unsaid, slowly turning to bile at the bottom of my stomach.

Tugging his hand, I considered that maybe I could get his thoughts to turn to more pleasant things. My husband followed my eyes, looked at the rumpled bed sheets we’d left only minutes ago, and smiled. I felt my heartbeat speed up. I held my breath, hardly daring to hope—after all, I knew very well that he had work to do. Yet, to my utter surprise and delight, Wesley picked me up around the waist and tossed me, giggling, on the bed, as though I weighed no more than a bag of flour.

He pounced on the bed like a cat, his hair still sticking up wildly, his brown eyes large and warm with desire. I met his embrace enthusiastically, covering his face with eager little kisses. He hadn’t yet put on a shirt, and I let my hands rove over his bare chest, then to the muscles in his arms. I never felt safer than when I was in his arms. Who could intend me harm after taking just one look at my husband? He was muscular from hours of hard work—there wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. No one would dare.

Wesley kissed me hard—long, lingering kisses that took my breath away, and yet made me ache for more. I arched my back, and he ran strong, calloused fingers up my throat to cup my face, making me shiver at his touch.

I love you. The words reverberated through my body, but I did not say them. I wasn’t one for sweet nothings, and my husband had yet to complain. He seemed just as content with the desire that filled my eyes whenever he looked at me. It was

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