Martha lay in Fraser’s arms and watched the dimming flames of the fire. The charred black wood splintered and broke apart as orange-red embers mingled with ash before swirling up through the brick chimney in a wave of smoke. Fraser’s lips brushed her neck and shoulders. After searing her body with passion, he was tender and sweet, so that every moment she spent in his arms was dreamlike. She loved holding and touching him and sleeping wrapped in his warmth after loving him, their body heat sealing their intimacy. Fraser told her he needed to feel her body against his. He wanted her close all the time.

He would wake her in the night with gentle kisses and whisper to her. Oh, the things he would say! Words about how good she felt around him, how hard she made him, what he wanted to do to her, how he could tell what she liked and which bits of her he wanted to taste, suck and lick next. Never in her life had she thought to hear a man express such wanting to her. Then, after he had taken her and driven her to a point just past ecstasy, he would hold her again and watch her face until she slept. But sometimes, just as slumber claimed her, she would see it again. That odd, unfathomable expression that troubled her.

Then Martha would wake as dawn touched the sky with wintry fingers, and it would be her turn to watch his face. When she did, she was pleased to see that Fraser slept deeply, with a smile of contentment on his beautiful lips.

“Will you tell me about your wife?” she asked tentatively one morning, when he opened his eyes.

“Aye, lass. I’d not expect you to give yourself so completely to me and then keep secrets from you. We were sixteen when we wed. Our fathers arranged the marriage. ’Tis the way of the clans. Her name was Kirsty and she was a pretty lass, but not strong, and life in the glens can be woeful hard. She could’nae get with child at first and that hurt her. In her heart and in her body. She thought she was letting me down. Finally, after we’d been wed five years, she gave birth to our son. He was a sickly wee lad, but a canny, trickit boy at the same time.” A slight, reminiscent smile touched his lips. Martha thought of his kindness to Harry and sharp fingers of sympathy and hurt reached inside her chest and twisted. He spoke of his family in the past tense.

“What happened to them?”

“I killed them.”

“No!” The word came out as a horrified gasp.

“Oh, you’re right to look so shocked.” The smile had changed now, it twisted his perfect lips into a bitter line. “But din’nae be afeared. I did’nae take a knife and cut their throats. What I did was just as bad. I neglected them when they needed me most, and because of my actions, they died.”

“I’m sorry.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “What if you and I should make a child, lass?”

“Well, I might not know much about these things, but I’ve noticed that you try not to…” She floundered, unsure of the right words.

“I try not to spill my seed inside you,” he said bluntly. “Aye, that’s true enough. It’s not a guarantee, though, and I’ll be honest with you, Martha, I’m not sure I’ve always made it in time.” He smiled into her eyes. “Ye drive me so mad with wanting I can’nae think straight when I’m inside you. But I will have to leave here soon, and I will be going into a battle I may not come out of.”

Martha winced. “Don’t speak of that.”

“I must, lass. I’ve not been fair to you. I needed you, and I took you. That was selfish.” He slid a hand down to stroke her flat stomach. “My bairn may be growing inside you already, and I can’t make you any promises. If it came to it, what would you do?”

“You didn’t take me, Fraser. We took each other. I knew there was no future for us. Yet I wanted this as much as you did. And, if it came to it, I would take good care of your child, never fear.”

“I don’t doubt it. You are a remarkable woman.”

“Until I met you I had never known what it was to feel…womanly.”

“Come closer to me, Martha Wantage. I’ll make you feel womanly all over again. Let me look at you. No, din’nae hide yourself from me, don’t be shy. We’ve gone past that stage now.”

In one deft move, he turned her onto her back. Deep in her core, her body blazed into instant arousal. She licked her lips as she met the steady lust-laden stare that pinned her to the bed. Fraser’s gaze on her body could draw out desires she never knew existed, and their eyes locked now in an unbreakable exchange. Martha remained transfixed by the passion in the golden depths of his eyes and the unspoken command that they held.

Responsive to his wishes, she allowed her knees to part slightly. A faint smile of approval touched his lips. She wanted him to smile at her like that, wanted that look in his eyes as he gazed at the most intimate parts of her body. Brazenly, she lifted her hips, parting her legs wider and displaying herself even more openly to his ravenous stare. The message was clear. She was his. Utterly. To do with as he wished. Her stomach muscles tightened with equal nervousness and pleasure.

“Och, you little beauty,” he said softly. Beauty. It was a word she had never thought to hear in connection with herself.

“Touch yourself for me,” he whispered. She blinked at the request, but she didn’t hesitate. Keeping her eyes on his, Martha traced her index and middle fingers up and down the folds of her swollen sex. Shuddering warmth radiated through her pelvis. Her breathing deepened. The urgency knotting in her belly became unbearably tight as she coaxed her own bud into plump, aching erectness.

“I need more, but I don’t know how,” she murmured.

“Let me help you.” He took hold of her hand, using his own fingers to instruct hers. Under his guidance, they moved together in a circular motion over her clitoris, sweetening and deepening the tingling feelings. “Better?”

Biting her lip, unable to speak, Martha nodded.

“For me too,” Fraser said, his eyes travelling from her face back down to her sex before he moved to fasten his lips over her nipple. Arching her back, she moaned as layer upon layer of glorious sensation washed over her. Every inch of her felt alive and sensuous and—yes, he had been right—womanly. This big, bold man knew her body better than she did, and she loved that knowledge as much as she loved the look in his eyes as he had watched her pleasure herself.

Martha was weak with desire now. Her eyes rolled and her eyelids fluttered closed. She wanted everything from Fraser. She wanted his lips, his tongue, his cock and his body. She wanted him on her and in her. She groaned out her need through clenched teeth. The feel of his muscular thigh and his rock-hard erection pressed against her while, at the same time, he tormented her nipple, making her senses spin. That masterful mouth licked and nibbled and deepened the first perfect tremors aroused by her own slowly circling fingers.

“Open your eyes. I want to look into them when you succumb,” he murmured, and she did, arching her back. The first spasms hit her in the same instant that Fraser rammed himself hard into her, driving her down into the mattress with his bulk. And Miss Martha Wantage, prim and proper governess, screamed his name over and over as her muscles clenched around him and her hands clasped his buttocks to draw him even deeper.

The stables at Delacourt Grange were built in three blocks around a central courtyard. Fraser, bored at having nothing to do, had gone there to offer his services to Tom. Jack, determined to regain the strength robbed from him by the redcoat’s bullet, had joined them. He was stripped to the waist, an ugly, very fresh scar marring the smooth sinews of his left shoulder. He lifted and lowered a bag of feed in his left hand. Harry, seated on a barrel, encouraged him to keep going and push his muscles further and harder. Harry’s dog, Beau had stretched himself out nearby and was gnawing contentedly on a marrowbone he had inveigled from Mrs. Glover.