Free Claiming A Lady by Brenna Lyons Page B

share his bed this night. It would be
by Tes’s favor alone that she might agree to share it within the
month before they were married.
    His frustration stirred that simply, and he
forced his jaw to unlock...just in time for the door to swing
open.
    Bavin’s father hesitated, then stepped back
and waved Gawen in. Was he uncomfortable with the idea that his
daughter would soon be experiencing Gawen’s kiss and touch? Or did
he disapprove but fear Gawen’s response to such a thing? In truth,
the older man had no choice in the matter, but it wouldn’t do to
alienate him unnecessarily.
    Gawen offered a tip of his head in greeting.
“Is Bavin free to walk with me?” he asked formally.
    Were Bavin any other woman or Gawen not what
he was, her father would be incensed by such a question. Even women
promised in marriage were not free to walk unescorted with their
future husbands.
    Again, he hesitated. “She is. Will you sit?”
Olhardt waved a hand in invitation and turned toward the far
reaches of the house.
    Gawen ambled in, closing the door. He was too
nervous to sit, so he stared into the fire, hoping not to appear
too anxious for his bride’s company. If the man was uncertain about
this marriage, eagerness could well push him further.
    He turned at the sound of footsteps on the
stone, his mouth going dry at the sight of Bavin, freshly scrubbed
and dressed in the same gown she’d worn for the choosing, most
likely the best gown she owned. She met his eyes, blushing
deeply...most likely at the audacity of being so bold in front of
her father.
    Gawen closed the distance between them,
offering his hand silently. She took it, her color deepening
another notch. He managed another tip of his head to her father and
led her out of the house and up a path into the woods.
    It was several long moments before she broke
the silence between them. “I am surprised.”
    “Of what? That I came to you so quickly?” Or that I tarried so long? he taunted himself. Though the
entire village would know about Resten’s death and Regana’s speedy
marriage, there was no excuse for neglecting Bavin so long.
    She smiled up at him, a spring in her step.
“That you haven’t kissed me again.”
    His heart pounded in excitement. “Are you
inviting it? Would it...make you uncomfortable for me to request
such a thing?” The previous night had been ceremony, and though
she’d returned his passion in the safety of the crowd, it was a
very different thing to accept such intimacy where it might turn to
more.
    Bavin seemed to consider that. “Why would it
make me uncomfortable, Lord Gawen?”
    That had to end. “I am not your lord, Bavin.
You are my bride.”
    She nodded her agreement. “Gawen, then.”
    His name on her lips sent a shiver of delight
up his spine and brought his cock up. To his dismay, her gaze
locked on the length of him clearly visible through his trews and
tunic.
    “How long have you wanted me?” she asked.
    “How long?”
    His mind was mired in visions of her touching
the length she found so interesting. As if in answer, her free hand
twitched ever so slightly, and he licked his dry lips. Her scent
was sublime, her musk rising at her perusal of his ready state,
marking her as ready, as well.
    “You were walking the edges of madness when
you asked if I still intended to stand.” She didn’t question
it.
    “I was,” he admitted. I am.
    “How long have you wanted me in your
bed?”
    “In my life...not just my bed,” he corrected
her.
    “How long?”
    Was there an answer to that he could
quantify? He shook his head. “I know when I noticed you as a woman
first. I cannot say when that became the need to make you
mine.”
    “When?” There was a note of excitement in her
voice that encouraged him to continue.
    “The harvest festival, five years ago. You
were cooking with the older women and Kethe. You were barely a
woman, only months past the day of your turning. You were smiling,
laughing at something one of the