Never Seduce a Scot (The Montgomerys and Armstrongs, #1)

by Maya Banks

“Eveline,” he began carefully, wanting to make sure he had her full attention. But he needn’t have worried because she was still staring avidly at his face. Indeed, her gaze had never left him. He’d never felt so scrutinized. “I want you to know that I do not hold you accountable for the sins of your family.” She frowned—nay, she scowled—her face drawing into a ferocious expression that amused him for its cuteness. “I understand you are innocent of wrongdoing and that you are a victim in this. I will treat you kindly and with the respect due your position as a chieftain’s daughter and now a chieftain’s wife. I’ll not ever punish the daughter for the sins of the father.” She pushed up from the chair, and to his utter shock, she balled her fist and punched him right in the nose.

She may not be a mighty warrior, but one thing she’d learned after observing her mother, was that if anything could fell a warrior, it was a determined woman.

Her lips melted over his, warm and soft, and he was suddenly as heated as a man who’d been baked in the sun on the hottest summer day.

“And will our marriage be real, Graeme? Will I be a real wife to you or do we merely play roles made necessary by a king’s decree?” A low growl sounded in his throat, a noise he knew she couldn’t hear, but he damn well hoped she could feel the vibration rumble from his chest. He tilted her chin upward and then slid his mouth over hers in a long, leisurely kiss. When he pulled away, she was breathless and her lips were swollen.

“You’ll be my wife, Eveline. Make no mistake about that. Our marriage will most certainly be consummated.”

She smiled. “I quite like you, husband.” He blinked in surprise at her pronouncement. Then he laughed. “I like you, too, Eveline.”

Then he realized the one word she hadn’t said and he was suddenly filled with impatience, wanting to hear it from her lips. “Say my name,” he said huskily. “Graeme. I want to hear you say my name.” “Graaame,” she said slowly and with great care. “A little louder,” he encouraged. “You spoke it so softly, I almost did not hear.”

“I like my name on your lips,” he murmured, his voice catching. He was suddenly grateful she couldn’t hear him, couldn’t tell the difference in his tone. It told too much. It told of his weakness when it came to her. She smiled beautifully, her eyes lighting up, sparkling with pleasure. “I like my name on your lips as well,” she said shyly. “Even though I cannot hear it. I imagine what it would sound like. I feel the vibration in my ear and it’s … comforting.”