My Bonny Heart (Pirate's Progeny Book 1) by Synclair Stafford

spine, but she was able to keep from flinching. She smiled at the spark of anger in his voice. Her intentional lateness had raised the proper response. Although, her heart raced and her stomach rioted with nerves as she turned to face him.
    He was too handsome by far, and she felt it to her toes. The doorframe seemed to shrink as he stood there; anger flickered in his magnificent eyes and his tanned face taut with irritation. Anne stared at his mouth for a moment, noting the bottom lip plumper than the top.
    Blinking, she brought herself out of her scrutiny of his physical appeal.
    “Am I to have a curfew then, my lord? I merely retrieved a wardrobe and remained to speak to my new friend, as politeness dictates.”
    She walked toward him, preparing to leave. With him standing so tall and compelling, she just could not breathe at the moment. Even with the irritation plain in his eyes.
    One large hand moved to rest on the doorjamb. He leaned casually as if he could stand there all evening.
    “It appears you need a curfew.” His stony gaze traveled from hers down to where the fluttering in her stomach began.
    She raised her chin, determined not to take the bait. “We are not yet wed.”
    “At dinner, we would have discussed that particular activity. I have obtained a special license. We shall be wed at the end of the week.”
    She sputtered, trying to make sense of his words.
    He smiled in a devilish way that worked on her nerves, and all other pulses within her body.
    “That is absurd. We shall not wed in a week.”
    “Oh, aye, Mrs. Morgan. Your uncle’s wishes, and I’ve given my word. He wanted to make sure you were right and properly wed and your son protected.”
    She stalked toward him, hoping he would move aside. If he did not, she would push her way through the door.
    He removed his hand from the doorframe and allowed her to slide to his left. Just as she reached his side, he threw out a hand and grabbed her by the elbow.
    “I’m not ready to be married. I—I—I have no wedding gown.”
    He smiled down at her as she tried to pull away, all white teeth and wolfish grin. His silver eyes glittered as he stared at her bosom. “You can go without a gown.”
    She pulled on her arm just as he pulled her forward.
    “Release me.” There had to be some sense to this conversation, although a delicious jolt of pleasure settled among her limbs at the mere thought of being nude in his presence. “You know I cannot very well get married naked.”
    “I do?” His arm wrapped around her back, pulling her in tighter to the hardness of his body. Her legs bumped up against his thighs and her stomach squeezed closely to his groin. She swallowed, having no voice to protest as heat radiated from him. That, and the decidedly hard evidence of his desire pressing firmly into her abdomen.
    She fixated on his lower lip; the full, plump one. The thud of her heart and blood pounding through her veins left her unable to struggle, her knees quivering.
    With aching slowness, his mouth came closer.
    She raised her chin to look into his eyes and found them heavy lidded and gazing at her mouth. A hot, tingling sensation and searing liquid heat traveled all the way to her toes.
    He was going to kiss her.
    And, she could not deny the desire to melt into it.
    In the moments she waited for the impact of those full lips, Anne lowered, then closed her eyes. The will to pull away faded into the warmth of his fingers upon her elbow. Tilting slightly forward unwittingly, and while her heart thumped heavily in her chest, she waited.
    And, waited.
    He stepped back, leaving a sudden coolness from the missing heat from his big body.
    Her eyes fluttered open. He stared steadily back at her, a strange, intense heat in his steely eyes.
    The warmth of his fingers released her arm.
    Until now, she had never felt the heat in her cheeks or the rise of the flush creep so high on her neck and face, ever in her life.
    His lips parted into a flashing grin of