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her wrists captive while he bent forward and kissed her neck. As soon as his mouth touched the spot, her posture stiffened. “What are you doing, Whitmore?”
    “Distracting you. I find that I’m hungrier than I’d thought.” To emphasize his words, he nipped at her skin, moving closer to her mouth.
    “I—I suppose I could find more biscuits, if you—“
    He cut her off with the kiss, taking what he wanted most. Her mouth, her lips…her tongue. He kissed her against the kitchen table, and she responded as though she didn’t want their night to end. And neither did he.
    She wound both arms around his neck, kissing him with the reckless abandon he loved about her. He unbuttoned the rest of her gown, pleased to find that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. Baring her breast, he leaned in to suckle the tip. She gasped and reached beneath his shirt to touch his chest. Nipping her gently, he turned his attention to the other breast, still keeping most of her gown buttoned.
    She consumed him, making him lose sight of every good intention. He wanted her, and not just for this night. He sensed that even if they had a thousand nights together, he’d never be satiated.
    He tasted and stroked, his tongue moving over the soft nipple. Her fingers dug into his scalp, and when he slid his hands up her skirts, he found her wet between her thighs. The need to take her, to claim her body with his, drove out all rational arguments. He guided her toward the wall, resting her palms upon it. “Stand here, Miss Barrow. I’m going to ravish you.”
    “But you—that is, I’m not sure—”
    He lifted her skirts to her waist, baring her firm bottom. “I’ll stop, if you’d rather not.” But he caressed the curve of her behind, moving his hand between her legs to the damp curls. He teased her, stroking her with his hand until she lowered her head, still balancing her weight against the wall. Her breathing was unsteady when he moved between her legs. She gasped when he unfastened his trousers, using his length to rub against her moist center.
    “I don’t think—men and women behave like this—in the kitchen, do they?”
    He probed her wet entrance with his shaft, and she bent forward to grant him easier access. “Only if you want me to.” He kept himself pressed close, as his hands moved around to her breasts.
    She could hardly speak, but managed, “Please. I can’t bear it.”
    In one slick stroke, he filled her, and she uttered a cry of shock. Her tight warmth surrounded him, and he shuddered at the contact. He fought to keep his penetration gentle and deep, since she would be sore from the last time. But she kept backing against him, quickening the tempo.
    Before he knew what was happening, her inner walls squeezed his shaft, and he could no longer restrain himself. He drove harder, pulling her waist toward him with each penetration.
    “You’re going to stay with me,” he swore, fighting for control when she bucked her hips against him. “I’m not letting you go.”
    He felt himself losing the battle, succumbing to the sweetness of her flesh. He joined their bodies together, meeting thrust for thrust until she arched suddenly, her body shattering with pleasure. When he felt her squeezing him tight, he shouted with his own release, filling her inside. He had trouble catching his breath, but he held her close, joined intimately.
    “Come back to bed,” he murmured against her shoulder. “I want to sleep beside you.”
    She kept her face turned away, and when at last he withdrew, she spoke. “I’ll go with you to Falkirk tomorrow. But that’s all.”
    He turned her to look at him, raising her chin so he could see her eyes. “For now.”
     
    The coachman brought a sleigh to take them back to Falkirk in the morning. Emily wore as many layers as she could, but she didn’t speak to Stephen on the way. Her heart was barely holding itself together, for last night was a precious memory. If she let herself even