"Evil wench," he snarked playfully. "I'll pat you down anytime you fancy." Actually, that was always a rather fun game, finding where all his paranoid bride's hidden weapon were stashed on her lovely person. Mae was incredibly creative when hiding her arsenal. He sighed and nodded. "You know me, sweetheart, always planning ahead."
If he'd been privy to Mae's thoughts, he'd drawn her closer than he did. He knew that she'd literally go mad without him. And not in the same way he'd gone mad without her. Neither of them were ever getting out of prison if they were caught. Which meant it wasn't going to happen.
Luckily, the mood passed and she was back to snarking at him and tormenting him. That was his girl.
Man up she said? All right then. Without warning, Cathair shifted her to the floor, quickly following her. He decided he loved her in this beautiful feminine shade of blue and pretty dress. Maeve had a tendency to dress scandalously, much to his mixed chagrin and pleasure. It drove him insane because he knew other men were looking at her, lusting after her body, and equally happily mad because he enjoyed looking at her and lusting after her. And well, they could never have her and he rather enjoyed that the randy bastards knew this. And people wondered why he was addicted to her? Was obvious to him.
But in this feminine ensemble, she was just beautiful and intoxicating. "I think I've suffered enough for now," he assured her as he stroked his hand up her side, enjoying the slide of the soft fabric under his fingers.
"You look nearly as lovely as you did our wedding day, sweeting," he told her as he leaned down to kiss her deeply. She'd looked like a bloody medieval princess on their wedding day. It was all he could do to keep his hands off her through the ceremony. Luckily, no one expected him to keep his hands off her afterwards. Or else he'd have gone utterly mad.