“I…I wasn't in love with him."
"Are you sure?" He glimpsed the moisture in her eyes before she ducked her head. "Phoebe," he began, but she pushed to her feet.
He stood and reached for her. She turned away, but he grasped her arm and turned her toward him.
"Let me go," she said through a sob. "He is gone. You needn't worry that he is any threat to—"
Kiernan pulled her close. “Hush,” he said. "You misunderstand."
“I understand well enough.”
The tears in her voice wrenched at his heart. “No, sweetheart, you don’t.” He pressed her closer and leaned his chin on her head.
She sagged against him. “He's dead, for-for what?”
“I wish I knew.”
“You can bloody well believe—” she hiccupped “—I'll find out.” She sobbed softly into his coat. “Don’t think you can stop me.” She hiccupped again. “Or that our marriage will stop me.”
Kiernan placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up. “I wouldn't dream of stopping you.”
She stared, eyes wide, cheeks stained with tears. Desire swept through him. Steady, he warned himself. Now isn't the time—He froze when she reached up and wrapped a hand around his neck. She drew his face to hers. Her lips touched his. She's distraught, he reminded himself. She will regret her actions, but when she arched her breasts against his chest, his resolve failed. He devoured her mouth. Her small whimper sent blood pounding through his veins and his cock throbbed with staggering need. He became aware that her fingers had tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. His erection pulsed. Warm, insistent, her lips parted, and he swept his tongue inside. Her tongue flicked against his and he sucked her into his mouth.
She gave a small gasp and melted against him. Kiernan cupped her buttocks and undulated her mound against his erection. By God, her touch set him on fire. They were to be married in minutes, their wedding night was only hours away. Could he wait? He had only to lift his kilt and he would be inside her in seconds. Would she let him? She broke the kiss and he was sure she'd come to her senses, but she slid her mouth along his jaw and down his neck. When she breathed deep he thought he would lose his mind. Kiernan thrust gently against her. Pleasure radiated through his cock and he groaned.
Kiernan gripped her buttocks and lifted her from the floor, took one step and eased her onto the couch. He came down on her, kissing her hard as he yanked up her skirt and slipped his hand between her legs. His finger met her slick heat. She was so wet. Kiernan buried his face in her hair and slid a finger inside her. So tight.
"Phoebe," he whispered.
She stiffened.
His head spun.
“My God," she cried, and he jerked his head up.
His mind snapped into focus on her wide-eyed expression of shock.
"No." She shook her head.
“Sweetheart—”
"Not this, not now.”
He yanked his finger from inside her.
“No,” she cried more softly, this time.
He cursed and rose, pulling her to her feet.
"It's wrong," she said through tears.
Kiernan held her close. “I know," he soothed. "It's my fault, all my fault." And it was.
*****
Phoebe’s gaze fell from the afternoon sun shining through the stained glass window of the chapel to the sprig of white heather Kiernan had pinned to the bodice of the light green dress that served as her wedding gown. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her hand resting on his, and the thick gold band he had placed on her ring finger.
The reverend’s “You may kiss the bride,” registered faintly in her mind. Yet, she understood quite clearly the meaning when Kiernan’s tender grip on her hands loosened and his finger curved under her chin. Her gaze flitted past the lock of golden hair that had come loose from its binding and across the strange sight of his kilted figure as he tipped her face up toward his.
“Lady Ashlund,” he said in a quiet voice, and brushed a kiss across her lips.
Her mind flooded with the memory of their earlier interlude and Phoebe experienced the same flush she had when Kiernan lowered himself onto her. Her mind clouded as it had in that moment, then shame followed, just as it had then. But the slick heat between her legs didn't fade. He slipped an arm around her and turned to face the small crowd who sat in the little chapel. Kiernan’s hold on her waist tightened and he halted, staring at his father, who stood at the end of the aisle. Kiernan started forward again, and Phoebe allowed him to lead her down the aisle.
“Father.” Kiernan stopped before the duke and extended his hand, but his father grasped his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace.
The duke released him, then turned smiling to Phoebe. He winked. “A bit sooner than you had anticipated, lass, but a fine thing, nonetheless.”