The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) by Kate McKinley

just be still and quiet? Must every day be a new battle?
    “No,” he said. “I have not.”
    She wondered at that, but she didn’t dare ask him what he meant.
    “But what of children?” he asked.
    And there it was. The one argument she always lost with herself. She could do without a husband well enough, but children she longed for. She’d always felt she had a maternal turn to her character, and as she had no siblings, the possibility of lavishing her affection on nieces or nephews was out of the question.
    When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Surely a woman of your passionswould want a family of her own.”
    The word passions rolled off his tongue easily, and she stiffened. Was he calling her wanton? What precisely was he trying to say?
    And yet, beneath the heat of her anger was the heat of something else entirely. The word passions tripped through her insides, reminding her of the intimacies they’d already shared. How did he do that? Cause her to melt with one simply spoken word.
    His hand still held her chin in place, preventing her from looking away. “I haven’t thought much about it, to be honest,” she lied.
    At her answer, he dropped his hand and laughed faintly. He leaned in, and whispered in her ear, “Perhaps I can provoke your interest.”
    A little shot of panic rushed through her as his head lowered and his lips lightly touched hers. His mouth was hot, his breath sweet and heady. His strong hands found her waist, and he pulled her closer to him—her chest pressed against his.
    He moaned against her lips, taking the kiss even deeper. His tongue warred with hers, dueling and retreating in a rhythm that stirred her desire. Heat rushed through her, and her heart beat chaotically against her breast.
    Air brushed over her backside as Matthias drew the hem of her chemise up, over her hips, gathering the fabric around her waist.
    With their lips still connected, he lowered himself onto the settee, pulling her onto his lap—straddling him. His hands cupped her backside as his tongue continued its ministrations. She threaded both hands through his thick hair as she rocked against the hard ridge of his erection through the fabric of his breeches.
    Dear God, he feels so good.
    He broke the kiss and pressed his mouth the column of her throat—nipping her skin with his teeth. The sharp pain zipped through her, electrifying every cell in her body, and she sighed.
    “ Christ, Gwen,” he hissed against her skin. “You taste like a damn miracle.”
    “Mmmmm.” She was drowning in a haze of pleasure.
    But somewhere, deep down, she knew this was wrong. How could she reprimand Evelyn for running off with Stephen, when indeed, Gwen was behaving so wantonly herself? Was she not a lady? Was she not taught the value of her own virtue? She thought herself above all the women who’d fallen at Matthias’s feet, and yet here she was doing the very same.
    “No,” she said, pulling away and rising to her feet. When she was free of him, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I just…” She looked down at him—his features were hard and implacable. What she would give to know what he was thinking. “We can’t do this.”
    “Yesterday I would have agreed. But the damage to your reputation has already been done. We are merely delaying the inevitable.”
    “And yet, despite…all of this—” She waved her hand helplessly to indicate the cottage, and them, here… alone . The things they had already done. “I would not have you believe I am a woman of low morals.”
    “Very well,” he said with the hint of a smile. His hungry gaze trailed up the length of her body before finally settling on her face. “I’ve waited this long to have you.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I can wait a few more days.”
    * * *
    He was weary of fighting against the tide of their attraction. He craved her and he would take her—it was as inevitable as the rising sun. The only sensible thing to do was make her his