her.
“What do ye mean?” she breathed.
With a grunt, he pushed himself up, adjusting the pillows under his shoulders, so he was reclined instead of flat, and pulled her up beside him as well.
“Do ye remember what I said earlier? About this”—he squeezed her—“being no’ just for tonight?”
Her heart sped as she nodded hesitantly. “Ye said I would be yers.”
“I meant it.” He held her gaze, that blue-gray stare making her hot and nervous all at once. “I’ve come to care for ye and Liam. I can give ye a comfortable life.”
She swallowed. “What are ye saying?” she whispered.
“Marry me, Evie. I promise I will take care of ye and yer sons as if they were mine.”
Twin spikes of surprise and elation slammed through her stomach, and she felt herself go limp.
Marry him.
Marry Malcolm Oliphant.
He was her husband’s kin, his clan, and had promised to care for her and her lads the way they should be cared for. ‘Twas her own stubbornness—and uncertainty—which had kept them living in this situation for so long, instead of asking Robert’s clan for help.
Marrying again would give Liam and Tomas a safe home. And Malcolm had made no secret of the fact he could care for them. Her lads would be raised with a strong man as their father, a man who could share his knowledge and joy of learning.
Malcolm was a good man, she knew it. A man who was certain of what was right, and who cared for those who needed it. He would care for her sons.
And she knew he’d care for her.
The way she already cared for him.
Unconsciously, she pulled her hand from his and dropped it to his chest again. Her fingertips made little whorls in the hair above his nipples, and when he shifted under her touch, his fingers flexed against her arsecheek. Then they skimmed up to her lower back, his touch causing her to shiver, at the same time warmth spread through her.
He was a good man. A good man who cared for her. And the Blessed Mother knew that they could satisfy one another in bed; she’d wanted to touch him, taste him, since almost the moment she’d woken in his arms.
He’d saved her, and here he was, offering her salvation again.
His fingers dropped to her other arsecheek, and she squirmed against him, her breaths coming closer again.
Here she was, trying to sort through a difficult problem, and she couldn’t manage to keep her desire in check.
“Evie,” he murmured, “I promise ye, I will be a good husband to ye and a good father to the lads.”
And that was what mattered, did it not?
She shifted against him, one thigh covering his, so that she could instinctively ease her ache by straddling him. ‘Twas impossible to think when she was this aroused!
His free hand reached for her, skimming callused fingertips up her arm, lightly cupping her breast. Her nostrils flared as she pressed against him.
“Sweet,” he murmured, as his thumb and forefinger found her nipple, causing her to mewl, “say aye. Say ye’ll be my wife.”
Arching, she offered him better access.
“And if I do,” she panted, “will there be more of this?”
“More of this pleasure?” His voice sounded strained as well, and when she dropped her gaze, she saw just how aroused he was. “ ’Tis an easy promise, lass.”
Unable to resist temptation, she reached for his member, wrapping her hand around its impressive length. ‘Twas as hard—and smooth!—as she remembered. He groaned and flexed into her hand.
Feeling wicked, and oh-so-perfect, Evelinde pushed her leg further across his thighs, until she was straddling him for real. His cock jutted upright against her curls, and she leaned forward as she stroked him.
“Evie,” he panted, “say aye!”
Holding his gaze, she lifted her hips and pressed down onto him, fully seating his member inside her wet core.
“Aye, Malcolm.”
His hands went to her hips, his expression telling her he was only holding on to his control by a hair.
“Ye’ll be mine?” he asked, as he thrust upward into her, making her sigh with pleasure.
Smiling, she braced her palms against his chest and gave him the answer he wanted.
The answer they both wanted.
“I already am.”
Chapter 6
They told Liam the next morning.
Actually, the lad was the one who asked. At breakfast, he peered suspiciously up at his mother. “Why are ye smiling?”
Malcolm’s own lips curled upward when he realized Evelinde was smiling. She was humming under her breath as well.
She looked like a woman who had been well-loved.
Loved?
Nay, nay.
I mean it in the