The Bride Price by Anne Mallory Read Free Book Online Page A

characteristic of how she’d been drawing at the start. A gloved finger trailed along the chalk path, and the heat of his body reached toward her as he rose and leaned closer.
    “Perhaps not quite so common.” Fingers lifted her chin, then slid across the sensitive line of her throat and into her hair, pulling her closer. “Perhaps not quite so common at all.”
    His fingers curled around her nape, a thumb touched her cheek, sliding across her skin. He pulled her toward him slowly, and when their lips connected this time, it was with a burst of fire. The gentle, slow slide of the first kiss giving way to a more overwhelming claim, his mouth parting hers, drawing her in with heat and tense hunger. She felt the pull of the spell, the insidious song teasing her to give in to that which she had so long denied.
    When he finally released her, the look in his eyes promised a myriad of craven delights were she to give in. To give up the lonely world she had locked herself within.
    “Are you going to finish the sketch of the house, or shall I continue kissing you?” He smiled slowly.
    Calculated, assuredly. She concentrated on his raised brow instead of his heated eyes or curved lips. She couldn’t forget and get lost in the danger of the spell. She lifted the chalk in a shaky grip and drew another line, then two, following his example. She imbued movement into each line, seeking something. Yearning. A peak in isolation that craved contact.
    “Much better.” His hand moved to her neck, rubbing and caressing, warmth springing beneath gloved fingers. The hum of the breeze charged, yet soothing. “What is it you see, lovely?”
    She saw a house that was waiting. Slightly overgrown and wild, but a home nonetheless. A house in need of someone or something. She drew in the windows, glass peering outward like great eyes searching for their owner to return.
    “Yes.” Fingers undid the strings of her bonnet, tugging it back from her crown. She let him, eyes closing as the shield was removed, but too desirous of the magic to tell him to stop. She tried not to watch as he peeled his gloves from his hands. “Much, much better.”
    She pulled the stick over the outline of the gardens, suddenly drawing with more talent than she had any right to claim.
    Bare fingers popped one pin from her hair, then two. Her hair fell in long chunks as it was freed. “A crime to hide this waterfall.”
    Fingertips gently drew her hair to the other side, and she shuddered as his lips touched her neck. “Keep drawing, dear Miss Sculler. But listen to yourself this time instead.”
    Wild lines formed as he did sinful things to the back and sides of her neck. Instead of taking her interest away, his lips and seeking fingers seemed to push the chalk faster and in the correct direction. Shapes formed; lines full of life and depth took hold.
    Hands touched her nape, catching the valley and pressing, rubbing down the column of herback. She drew in the chimney spine as he traced hers.
    The roof pulled into domed tips as he pressed against her back, hugging her to him, his palms running down the sides of her body, over her stomach and up to caress the sides of her breasts. His hands drew peaks over the tips.
    “Sir?” Her breath caught, her head tilted back on his shoulder as a thumb slipped inside the bodice of her dress and his other hand touched her knee, pulling her skirt up, up, up, then slipping underneath. He pressed his palm against the inside of her right knee and pulled it away from her other one, her ladylike position turning into something open and wanton, on view for the entire Grange, if not for the waist-high bushes in front of them.
    The edge of his thumb tweaked her nipple under the rigid edge of her corset, causing her to shudder. She moved into the touch instead of away, having never felt the overwhelming magic of this type of desire where she didn’t have any inhibitions—just the touch of a man who was a master at his craft. She felt