Once Upon a Tartan Read Online Free PDF Page B

passionate when she was desperate.
    “You are teasing me, Ian. This is not well done of you. The baby will awaken, and then you’ll wish you’d applied yourself with a little more—oh, my goodness.”
    He applied himself with a little more , not faster, just a trifle more. Too much more, and his self-discipline would go down in the flames of his wife’s passion, but a little more, a few sparks on the dry tinder of her arousal, and she’d start up with those soft moans that inspired him to great feats of forbearance.
    “My wife is given to chatter. I will kiss this tendency away.”
    He made her wait for even his kisses, running his nose along her jaw, then dragging his lips over each eyebrow. Beneath him, Augusta shifted her hips, catching him at a slightly deeper angle.
    In their year of marriage she’d learned how to toss a few sparks of her own.
    “So impatient, Wife. ’Tis a failing in you English. Always plundering when you could barter.”
    He eased a hand up and gently closed it over one full breast—very gently. Maddeningly gently. She sighed against his neck and bartered her luscious mouth right over his, an openmouthed, seeking kiss involving her tongue and his few remaining wits.
    “Naughty girl. How I treasure you.”
    She sighed into his mouth, anchored a hand on his bottom, and then—oh, have mercy upon a poor married man—got her internal muscles into the negotiation.
    “Lass, you mustn’t—”
    “Hush, laddie.”
    She offered him no quarter, just her luscious, loving body, her heart, and her very soul, and he gave her his in return.
    And then… ah, then the cuddling, at which she also excelled, an attribute Ian privately thought was the influence of Scottish antecedents hanging a few branches back on his wife’s family tree. Highland winters sorted out the priorities that effectively.
    He tucked his sated wife against his side and hugged her close. “Could the little man be cutting teeth yet?”
    “I certainly hope not. Mary Fran says that can presage months of intermittent misery for the child, and Fiona didn’t start teething until she was six months old.”
    “So we have that to look forward to.” He kissed her ear—it was a beautiful ear. “You are a wonderful mother, Augusta, never doubt it.” She eased in his arms in some way, suggesting she’d needed the reassurance, but God in heaven, no baby was ever cosseted and cared for more conscientiously.
    The entire family, the entire clan, seemed to dote on their son, and it warmed Ian’s heart to see it.
    “I want more children, Ian. I want a big family, and we’ve gotten a late start on it.”
    “And did you think I was exerting myself so manfully in this bed purely out of selfish motives, Wife?” He dragged her over him, so she straddled his hips and cuddled down to his chest. “If my wife wants more babies, then I will do my utmost to see her pleased in this regard. My marital devotion allows for no less.”
    She ran her tongue over his nipple. “Such generosity. What was in the note, Ian? You got very quiet after you read it.”
    He rested his chin on her crown and let his hands wander over the long, elegant bones of her back. “We’ve trouble, Wife. Spathfoy has made a surprise raid on your cousin’s household, and we don’t know what his motives are.”
    “Spathfoy?” Augusta paused in her teasing to peer up at him. “I don’t recognize the title.”
    “He’s heir to the Marquess of Quinworth, and older brother to the worthless, conniving scoundrel who took advantage of my sister and got her with child.” He tried not to let his anger show in his voice or in his body, because Augusta was that perceptive, but Mary Fran had given the faithless bounder her virginity, and Gordie Flynn had given her nothing but pain and humiliation in return.
    “Spathfoy lost a brother, Ian. That cannot have been easy.”
    “And he has Quinworth for a father, but what if he’s showing up all these years later to snatch our