He allowed his gaze to leisurely wander over her naked body, taking in each exquisite detail. Her breasts were not huge, true, but they were round and perky, in perfect proportion to her slim body. He did not lie; they were indeed the loveliest breasts he had ever seen. Her waist was slender and her derriere curvy and succulent. He wished to bite it, then lick and memorize every inch of her.
"Angelique. You're the most beautiful creation on God's earth."
"Do not speak." She placed a finger on his lips.
He kissed the tip. "Why not?"
She grasped his semi-erect shaft in her hand.
"Och." It was too soon. But as he watched her small, inexperienced hands stroking him, he hardened with gusto. "Mmm." He couldn't stay down long with her in control.
She rose over him, mounting him, guiding his shaft into her. He growled, loving her aggressiveness. A woman who knew exactly what she wanted and took it. She rode him for several blissful minutes.
He stroked her nipples, tweaked them gently, loving the simple act of observing his wife enjoying his body. A woman who had feared him and hated sex days ago. Giving her pleasure had become his primary goal in life. He was not sure when that had happened, but he burned to hear her cry out his name at the height of passion.
Before he could've expected it, her body shuddered around him in a climax. Screaming, she flopped onto his chest and he took over the thrusting as she squeezed him.
Still in complete control, he rolled her onto her back and rose over her.
Once she had calmed, he pulled her upwards. "On your hands." She lifted her upper body and held herself aloft on her hands, while he supported her hips. He drove himself into her and her head fell back on her shoulders.
"Lachlan," she moaned.
"Aye." A warmth of emotion rushed through his chest. He tugged her closer, placed her arms around his neck, brushed her lips with his. I want only you. Do you understand? No other woman. He wanted to say those words to her again, but they would only remind her of her jealousy. Would only make her ask, for how long?
He didn't know. Maybe forever. He could not imagine tiring of looking into her eyes, of driving himself into her hot, wet body. But he yearned to see more in her gaze—complete trust. Love. How could he gain such things? How could he decipher the secrets in her?
After another minute he detected a change in her breathing and loosened some of the control he held. They reached the height of pleasure together.
He lay her down beside him and pulled her close so they could rest.
"Angelique?" he murmured a few moments later, after his own breathing was back to normal, but she didn't respond. Asleep already? He kissed her cheek, quietly slid out of bed and dressed. While she napped, he would see what information he could extract from Philippe.
***
Eleanor descended the narrow wooden staircase at the inn to dine in the common room. All heads turned to her as she and her maid entered. She prayed none of the men were thieves.
"M'lady." The stocky proprietor bowed before her. "I hope you will allow us to serve you supper this evening."
"Perhaps." If anything from his humble kitchen appealed. But she tried not to treat these poor commoners too badly.
"I've saved you the perfect spot." He escorted her to a private table in the corner by the window. Not that the view of a cobblestone street and livery stable was anything worth noting. Her maid and a footman stood nearby, if she should need anything. Being a countess could sometimes be lonely. How she wished Lachlan or some other member of the aristocracy was here.
Once Eleanor ordered and they'd served the wine, she waited while her gaze searched the faces of each person present. Commoners, all. Judging by their clothing, not even a lowly baron was present.
A tall, thin gentleman with black hair and stylish clothing descended the staircase. His dark brown eyes caught on her immediately. Well now, this one showed promise. He had to be titled or at least wealthy. She thought her eyes were playing tricks on her when she noticed one of his arms missing.
He approached and bowed before her. "Madame, pardonnez-moi for being so forward as to introduce myself. I am Guy Laurent, comte de Girard, at your service."
"A French count?" Indeed it was her lucky day.
"Mais oui." Despite the paleness of his skin, his midnight eyes sparkled wickedly.
"Eleanor Stanhope, countess of Wexbury." She lifted her hand and he kissed the back.
"Enchanté, madame."
"A pleasure. Join me, won't you?"
"Merci. Nothing would please me more." He pulled out a chair and seated himself across from her.
"Wine?" She waved her maid forward to pour him a glass. Eleanor had a most intense curiosity as to how he lost his arm, but minded her manners. "What brings you all the way to the wilds of Scotland?"
"Visiting an old friend." His French accent was very thick.
"And who would that be?"
"She is a countess, also. Perhaps you know her? Angelique Drummagan."
"Indeed, I do! We were ladies in waiting together for Her Majesty, Queen Anne. You wouldn't be…Angelique's former suitor, would you?" If this man would take Angelique away from Lachlan, then the Highlander would be free for her taking. What a brilliant circumstance.
"I am flattered. You have heard of me?" the comte asked.
"I only know she wished to marry a French nobleman but her Scottish father forbade the match. She did not reveal his name to me."
He smiled, but strangely, it did not appear a genuine smile. "You have found me out."
"I assume you've heard she is recently wed."
"Oui." He sipped the wine, then scowled at it and set it down. "What can you tell me of this fortunate man?"
Fortunate? Hmm, clearly he still had feelings for Angelique. "Lachlan MacGrath is a good man, a Scottish Highlander. The marriage was arranged by the king, you see, as a reward. But I fear it is a terrible match."
"And is this man brave, powerful?"
"Indeed, he is what one would call a warrior. Very large, strong and crafty with a sword. Also cunning. He saved the life of the king's favorite by uncovering an assassination plot."
"Aha." Girard leaned back in his chair, his expression turning frosty. "And his family?"
Eleanor was careful not to show her glee. Girard was clearly jealous. Perhaps he would kidnap Angelique. "The new earl of Draughon is a second son, brother to an earl and chief. Lachlan is a formidable man. One would not want to confront him directly."
"Hmm." Girard lifted a dark brow, waiting.
"He has several guards and trained warriors who travel with him. If one wanted something he had, one would be wiser to steal it away while he wasn't looking."
"Indeed?"
Eleanor nodded, observing the scheming thoughts reflecting in the man's eyes. She did not want him challenging Lachlan. Not that he had a chance of besting him with only one arm. Still, pistols could be deadly accurate in the right hand.
"You have seen Angelique recently, no?" he asked.
"Yes, I've just come from a visit to Draughon Castle and the wedding festivities."
"And how is she?"
"Unhappy to have been forced to marry a man she doesn't love."
Girard snickered, his black mustache and neatly groomed beard lending him a devilish quality. "Poor little Angelique."