“At times.”
His short reply warned that he would say no more and so she held her tongue.
They ate with barely a word said between them and as night rolled around he reminded, “We leave tomorrow, be ready.”
The crack of thunder late in the night sounded as if it split the cottage in two and had Purity vaulting out of bed. Princess raised her head from where she slept near the fire, then plopped it down again, her eyes closing. King looked at her from where he lay curled at the foot of the bed, annoyed at being disturbed.
They were safe, but what of Arran?
She hurried to the door and opened it. Rain lashed at her and she tried to peer past it. “Arran,” she shouted and he appeared so suddenly it frightened her, but she was quick to grab his arm and urge him inside.
“Step away from me,” he ordered. “You’ll get wet.”
She shivered from the chill his wet garments cast off. “You need to get out of those soaked garments.” She went to the bed and grabbed the blanket, receiving an angry screech from King for disturbing him again. “You can wrap yourself in this blanket.”
“No, you need it. The wet night holds a chill.”
“I’ll wrap myself in my cloak.”
“No, you’ll keep the blanket. The fire will keep me warm enough.” And he began to remove his garments.
Purity hurried to the bed and told herself to turn away, not look at him, but something wouldn’t let her. Was it curiosity? She had seen a good portion of his private parts in the barn all those years ago when he and a willing woman had enjoyed an agreeable poke. Somehow it felt different now, more intimate. And never had she ever believed she’d be intimate with Arran.
He removed his garments piece by piece, setting them near the fire to dry until he stood naked. His body stole her breath. Lean and hard with muscles that were not to be ignored. He had a firm backside and when he turned, she caught the gasp before it could escape. His manhood stood proudly enlarged, jutting out from the thatch of dark hair it nested in. She remembered he had a large manhood, women always having made note of it. But she had only gotten a brief glimpse and seeing it now—impressed. It also frightened some.
How could something that thick and long fit inside a woman? Recalling the passionate moans of the women he had satisfied, the appendage had to have been—amazing. But those were women far more experienced with mating while she had not an ounce of it.
What difference does it make? she admonished herself silently. You will not wed him and therefore not couple with him. Yet the urge to do so overwhelmed her. She would have what she always wanted—Arran. But not really. He would wed her out of duty and while at one time that might have appealed to her, it didn’t any longer. She wanted to be loved and if she couldn’t have that, she’d live her life out in the forest with the animals she loved and who loved her.
Still, it didn’t hurt to look, enjoy, and imagine.
He moved with such grace and ease, something she didn’t remember about him. It was like every movement was precise, planned, and executed. Every movement meant something, and she almost gasped again when his hand settled around his shaft to stroke it not once but several times, and she watched it swell.
Wickedly, she thought of her own hand there, touching him, stroking him, and how it would feel, and an intense tingle settled between her legs and she felt herself grow wet.
His words jolted her. “Go to sleep, Purity, you’ll soon know my body intimately enough.”
Purity hurried beneath the blanket, thinking how she could avoid marrying him and also thinking of endless reasons why she didn’t want to avoid marrying him.
Chapter 5
Arran shared the lean-to with his mare, staring out at the rain. He had woken in the cottage, a stiffness in his neck, his head having lolled to the side once he had fallen asleep. He had slept on the lone chair, having braced it against the door. That way no one could catch him off guard. He’d be fully awake with sword in hand before anyone could make it through the door.
Once he woke, however, and caught sight of Purity’s slender leg dangling out from under the blanket just off the edge of the bed and following it up with his eyes to imagine what lay there—he shook his head. His shaft stirred just as it had last night when he’d stroked the chill off it, though it had more than stirred this morning. It had swelled and if he hadn’t dressed and rushed out of there after she had fallen asleep, she would have woken to him satisfying himself.