Free His Lady Bride (Brothers in Arms) by Shayla Black, Shelley Bradley

smelled each night on the bed linens rushed up to taunt her as she waited, holding her breath.
    Aric looked the kind of man every woman wanted in her bed. Suddenly, she feared she was no exception. An odd disappointment filled her when he stepped back.
    She swallowed against the erratic racing of her heart. “Aye, I think ’tis done.”
    With a gentle clasp of his fingers over hers upon the handle, he removed the broom from her grip. She started at his touch and felt her breathing go shallow from its effect as he raked the leaves onto an old cloth and tossed them outside.
    God’s nightgown, she must cease this foolish behavior. Why did he sway her senses so fiercely? She must remember Sir Penley and her future.
    She must have rain, and if Aric could make it, he must—quickly. Somehow, she had to gently goad him to action or lose her chance at a secure future. ’Twould not do to delay the rain further by annoying the man.
    “We’ve been long months now without rain,” she said to his back as he left the cottage with the refuse.
    “So I hear.” He grunted as he tossed more leaves outside.
    “Such will make for a warm summer, do you not agree?”
    He shrugged as he reentered the cottage. “As I hail from the north, this southern clime always seems warm to me.”
    “Do you not miss the rain, though? That gentle patter of water upon the earth, letting trees and flowers and crops grow, always cheers me. I fear the land turned quite brown well before autumn last year. Such a shame, for I care not for brown grass and hillsides. Do you?”
    Placing his massive fists on his lean hips, Aric scowled. “I do not think overmuch about the rain. Neither should you.”
    ’Twas clear he saw through her ruse. Knowing she must drop the matter for now, Gwenyth smiled at him. “Nay, I am but making conversation. Since we live here alone, we must talk.”
    “Not always.” He stepped closer and whispered, “At the moment, the bed linens need our attention.”
    Though he certainly meant they needed airing, the suggestion in his voice hinted at something warm and new, something she felt herself reaching for, despite her better judgment. Gwenyth shivered and prayed Aric had not noticed.
    He left her to walk to one side of the bed. Feeling somehow aware and dazed at once, she moved to the other side and began removing the linens with his help.
    At one corner, their fingers met. She started, her gaze flying to the masculine splendor of Aric’s face. A smile crept over his mouth, something rich with promise, something that made her melt when he laced his fingers with hers and squeezed.
    No one had ever touched her so. She felt as if her heart might jump out of her chest.
    Gwenyth drew in one deep breath, then another. Her sanity seemed to return, although her senses remained clouded by his evocative scent, his low voice.
    “Are you well?” he asked, his tone concerned.
    “Aye. ’Tis the heat, I am certain,” she lied.
    Aric nodded and scooped the bed linens up in his arms. “Take these outside. The air there may help you.”
    “A good idea.”
    Slowly, Aric stepped around the bed toward her. The heels of his soft boots reminded her he moved closer, ever closer. His grin returned, stirring her stomach into a new frenzy.
    He stopped inches away. Barely a breath separated them as he placed the sheets into her arms. As he released the bed linens, he stroked the length of her arms and fingers with his palms before stepping away. Gwenyth balled her fists, fighting the insane urge to drop the rumpled linens and demand Aric kiss her again.
    Both stood still, Aric watching her, Gwenyth drowning in the mysterious depths of his hot gray eyes. ’Twas clear he wanted her. Why did he do nothing more about it?
    Why did she want him to so badly?
    Gwenyth cleared her throat. “I shall go outside with these.”
    His smile broadened as he gestured to her to lead the path to the door. Forcing her gaze away from him, she marched outside.
    The crisp