Improper Seduction by Mary Wine

Bridget felt his eyes on her.
    She made the bottom of the rise, and the sounds of men talking grew. The horses were quiet now, the animals eagerlychomping on their feed. Smoke teased her nose, coupled with the scent of roasting meat. That smell drew a rumble from her belly, loud and long, betraying just how empty her stomach was. Now that she thought about it, she had not supped the night before, either. The scent of food actually made her quiver. Her pace quickened; the desire to make it through the last screen of trees became intense. Was there truly fresh meat? Her belly grumbled once again.
    “We need more practice on how to deal with one another, Bridget.”
    Curan spoke next to her ear. She felt his breath, warm against her skin, and shivered. He caught her once again, this time sliding a solid arm around her waist to stop her. He plucked her out of her steps and pulled her against his larger frame.
    “I, for one, am most curious to discover just how well your confidence holds up when there is nothing to prevent us from being completely intimate.”
    He stood flush against her back, his body hard and large behind her. Every little sensation intensified because she could not see him. The idea of him was far more powerful than the man she saw when facing him. Gooseflesh raced across her skin, and she couldn’t quite decide what to do with her hands. Her fingers released the fabric of her dress and sought out the hard arm holding her in place. But without gloves, her fingertips seemed more receptive. She felt his body heat through his clothing, and her hand abandoned his arm.
    A soft chuckle shook his chest, and she recalled it from when she had bathed him. A moment later his fingertips gently stroked the bare skin of her neck.
    “Uncertain, Bridget?”
    Though his voice was teasing, the inference of his commentannoyed her. There was no thinking through her actions; she was too agitated by the proximity of his body. She jerked against his hold, her hand clawing at the arm imprisoning her.
    “Of course I am. What think you? That I have been free with men?”
    Her efforts to free herself were wasted. Too much strength rested in him, yet he controlled it, his embrace remaining solid without hurting her.
    He stroked her neck again. She was keenly aware of each fingertip. Her own skin, sensitive to his lightest touch, bloomed with warmth under his touch. The chill of the evening quickly became soothing as her body heated.
    “I wonder about what you have been doing with a courtesan.”
    He spoke the words softly, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge to his tone. Bridget froze, standing still in his embrace.
    “My mother told you about Marie’s lessons?”
    He grunted, which was no true answer. A moment later she was free. She could still hear his men on the other side of the trees, but she was too curious to know the answer to her question, so she turned to look at Curan.
    “Lessons? What sort of a mother has her daughter tutored by a courtesan?”
    His tone implied that he disapproved, yet his expression remained unreadable.
    “Why didn’t you ask my mother that question?”
    His eyes brightened with his temper. “If I had known of it while still beneath her roof, I would have.” Thick determination edged each word. “My men found your teacher on the road, intent on spending another day instructing you.”
    “Didn’t you ask Marie that question, my lord?”
    His expression tightened. “She refused to speak upon the matter. So I ask you, Bridget. What manner of lessons were you taking from her hand?”
    Even Marie’s soft instructions to stroke men’s egos didn’t keep Bridget calm. Her annoyance burned bright. Her neck was still warm and tingling where he’d stroked her, driving home how well he knew a woman’s body. Yet he was displeased that she might know a thing or two about how to touch him.
    The arrogance of it all.
    “Frank ones, sir. So that I would not find myself quivering like a ninny when