Her fingers went to the belt holding up the length of plaid wrapped around his hips. She tugged, and his hand fell over hers, making her pause.

“I have almost lost my mind just holding ye, Ella. Your touch will take what little I have left to stop if—”

She reached up to kiss him, halting his words. “Too late,” she whispered. “I have lost mine already. It is Midsummer Night, and I will not share you this winter.” She pulled his face back down to hers, kissing him, her mouth opening eagerly.

Damn Joshua. Was she doing this all because she didn’t want Viola in his bed? It didn’t matter. She was to be his wife anyway.

Ballocks. It did matter.

“Lass,” he said against her lips and pulled back again. Bloody hell, his discipline strained at its limits. “Joshua set Viola on me to make ye jealous and then told ye about her.”

He stared down at her as he drew a ragged breath. Lips wet, hair raked through, running in wild waves over her bare shoulders. If she sent him away, he’d be in pain for a bloody month.

“Honesty?” she said, her face tilting to the side. Her eyes softened as she studied him. “Not something I expected.”

She thought he lied? About what? Surely not his desire for her. He frowned but then lost his thought as she yanked the belt loose at his hips. The heavy wool and leather belt thumped onto the floorboards, but she did not look down. Instead, she gazed up into his eyes, a slight smile on her lips. “And I already guessed that.”

…

The beard on his jaw was trimmed, and she slid her palm along it. He followed her gentle tug, descending in a swoop much like his falcon, to capture her lips again. For that’s what their kiss was, a capture, both of them caught together in the tangle of passion threading them together.

Wrapped up in the fire spreading through her, Ella did not think about anything but Cain and pleasure. It was like the strongest whisky, carrying away all damning strategies and plans for revenge and escape.

Ella’s fingers slid over the contours of his muscular chest, sprinkled with hair, so different from her own body. She stroked the ridges of his stomach and grazed the skin of his back. He tasted of honey ale, and his palm cupped her cheek, tilting her face.

He moaned against her lips and lifted her against his jack between them. Hard and insistent, it pressed against her abdomen, making her heart hammer. She had never been one to run away from the unknown, and the fire within her pulsed, making her even braver. Her fingers slid down his chest as his hands slid over her arse, stroking her curves. Pulling her hips back enough to allow room, she glanced down.