Page 34 of Captured by a Laird
“What difference could it possibly make?” Blackadder had never cared. He took what he wanted. Wedderburn would do the same.
“It matters to me.” Wedderburn’s smile was gone, and his eyes looked haunted.
The fearsome Laird of Wedderburn, who rained terror on the Borders, stole her castle, robbed her children of their birthright, and risked the wrath of both her powerful clan and the Crown without a second thought, felt uneasy about taking his rights as a husband unless she was willing.
“Ye feel guilty about this part,” she said, startled by this unexpected truth. “That’s why ye want to seduce me.”
He shifted his gaze to the side. Wedderburn had forced her to say vows and to commit herself, her property, and the raising of her daughters to him without a trace of guilt. But forcing her to give him her body crossed a line, violated a code of honor she never would have guessed he had.
The walls she had erected to protect herself cracked and let in a thin ray of hope.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I didn’t feel I had a choice about this marriage either.”
She sighed inwardly. Men made decisions and pretended it was fate. Of course he could have let her go.
“But from the first moment I saw ye,” he said, “I wanted ye.”
Her skin grew hot as his dark gaze swept over her.
“I’ll seduce ye,” he said, and dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, “because pleasuring ye will give me pleasure.”
“I believe”—she paused to clear her throat—”that it is your pride that requires it.”
“That too,” he admitted, and a smile curved his full lips as he leaned closer.
That smile disarmed her and was quite unfair. But it was nothing to the kiss that followed. Instead of grabbing and prodding at her, he enfolded her in his arms and kissed her as if he wanted to do it forever.
She had never experienced anything as sensuous as his kisses. Though they remained unhurried, they grew deeper and longer, his tongue moving against hers in a magical rhythm. She felt as if she was falling into a dream—but she was abruptly awakened from it by his erection jutting against her thigh.
She broke the kiss and turned her head. Although the beginning was far more pleasant than with Blackadder, it would end the same.
She reminded herself that Wedderburn was using his slow kisses, gentle touches, and comforting embrace to win her compliance and assuage his guilt. The desire he evoked in her was as unwelcome as it was unexpected. It would only make the disappointment harder to bear.
“What is it, Alison?”
It almost made her weep to hear him say her name. Blackadder never did when he used her in bed.
Wedderburn kissed her forehead and held her close. “I didn’t mean to frighten ye again.”
“Ye didn’t.”
“Then tell me what is wrong,” he said. “One moment we’re in a fever, and the next ye lie stiff in my arms.”
She was not sure she could explain it—or if she should. But his continued silence told her he was waiting for an explanation.
“To Blackadder—” She felt him tense at the mention of the name and stopped speaking.
“Go on,” he said.
“To him, I was simply a body to slake his lust,” she said, feeling foolish. When Wedderburn did not laugh or chide her, more words tumbled out. “I was a possession he had a right to use, a woman with no feelings that mattered.”
Wedderburn still did not speak.
“I don’t want to feel like that again,” she said in a whisper.
Wedderburn’s eyes were dark with a violent emotion, but his hands were gentle as he held her face.
“You’ll never be just any woman to me,” he said. “I want to know you, Alison Douglas.”
