The Highlander's Welsh Bride_Book 5 in the Hardy Heroines series by Cathy MacRae & DD MacRae

Author:Cathy MacRae & DD MacRae [MacRae, Cathy & MacRae, DD]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Short Dog Press
Published: 2018-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

Fire raged through Birk’s veins, stoking his desire. He was irritated with his bout of over-indulgence the night before and its lingering results, but he was even less pleased his wife of fewer than two hours nagged him about it. What he’d meant as a salute to their marriage, a way to break the awkward silence between them, had rolled right into a nasty supposition he would be unable to consummate their marriage.

She must not have married much of a man before, if she believes a wee bit too much to drink will render me incapable. As blood pounded through his cock, smithies set up shop behind his eyes, reverberating agonizingly inside his skull. The meal he’d just eaten swirled uneasily in his stomach, but he manfully ignored the protest, rubbing his temples to ease the hammering.

Carys’s touch lit his skin, sizzling across his shoulders and down one arm. He quivered with the effort to remain still, silent, wondering at the mood she’d taken. And where it would lead.

Damn her for comparing him with her dead husband! And twice damn her for forcing him to abandon his pledge to remain calm—Dugan had insisted ’twas the only way to soothe her ruffled feathers. His hackles rose.

Kind and considerate? In the face of her blatant challenge? His blood boiled.

“Nae,” he growled, grabbing her arm in a vice-like grip and pulling her close. Her scent assaulted him in a delicate wave of lavender and spice. Her eyes blazed, dark and stormy. Fine blue lines pulsed in her neck and temples beneath translucent skin.

She would be the death of him.

He loosened his grip, knowing there would be finger marks on her arm when he peeled the gown from her body. “I willnae be compared to yer dead husband. I willnae be challenged on what I can or cannae do.”

She did not shrink away, and once again he was reminded that this and no other woman would suit him.

“Where ye are concerned, I dinnae know why I cannae keep my temper. I am not known to be hack-handed around women. Blunt, mayhap, but not a brute.”

“Then why did your first wife leave you?”

Her words struck with the subtlety of a stormy wave off the North Shore. No one ever dared ask him of the troubles between him and Rose. His clan had turned its head, likely believing the worst of him—and her. Carys only had to listen to the gossip certain to begin as soon as they arrived at MacLean Castle. Rose’s loose proclivities were well known in that place.

“We dinnae suit,” he gritted out.

“You have already stated you aren’t remiss in your husbandly duties. And that you aren’t a brute around women,” Carys replied thoughtfully. “What else would drive a woman to leave her daughters behind?”

Birk stared at her in disbelieving silence. Her gaze showed interest, and she did not appear to taunt him. But he did not owe her an explanation. And damned if he’d show how much her question opened old wounds,

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