Once she was upright, Grant guided her back and pinned her between his hard body and the wall. He’d removed his shirt. The smoldering heat of his skin radiated through her shift as his chest ground against hers.
Hands grasped onto her thighs then rose, lifting her shift as they made their way up her body. Grant drew away long enough to peel the material over her head. She thought he’d return to kissing her, but his focus lingered on her body and shivers wracked her. The loss of his heat and the cool stones at her back brought with it an awareness of what they were doing, and embarrassment washed over her body.
Would he stop now that he knew what she looked like beneath the frills of a gown?
Sapphire eyes darkened as they studied her breasts. She shielded them with her arms, but his hands clasped around her wrists, steering them to her side, and his head descended to her neck. He suckled and nibbled as he worked his way down to one breast. When his teeth scraped across her nipple, she arched into him.
After lavishing it with attention, he stood and let his body connect with hers, his hard staff pushing against the base of her belly. She gasped and her eyes flew wide as she felt how rigid he was.
Then he moved away, as if the moment was over and he was done with her. She had known she would do something to ruin the moment.
…
Grant had almost thrust into his innocent wife up against a cold stone wall—he’d lost awareness of everything except wanting to be inside her. Thank God she’d gasped when she did, or he might have taken her too hard and too fast.
He’d want to do this again and the last thing he should do was scare her.
Although she wasn’t the wife he’d chosen, he wasn’t heartless.
He closed his eyes and imagined the feel of a cold loch, anything to tamp down this need and keep him from taking things too fast. When he opened his eyes, he saw sadness in her brown gaze and for some reason that bothered him. Why did he care what she thought other than wanting her to desire him all the time?
She started to walk away. He reached out and took her shoulder. “Nae.” He drew her in. “This way.”
Guiding her toward the bed, he was pleased he’d fought off the urge to pick her up and run for the mattress. The innocence in her eyes said she was fragile right now. The warrior woman who could take down a man with one swipe of her blade had a soft side that she didn’t allow anyone to see.
“Lie down,” he instructed, and she didn’t argue as she backed onto the bed. “A little farther.”
She complied, following his lead, not taking her gaze from his body. She looked wary, but more curious. He was glad she no longer tried to cover her body. It glowed in the dancing candlelight, a flashing invitation like a beacon on a cold, dark night.
He liked this side of her, this compliant vixen who opened up to him as she waited for his cock to claim what no other man had. The thought sent a rush of heat through him, and he had to remind himself yet again to slow down. She was untouched.
After climbing onto the bed, he sank down on an elbow next to her as his fingers roamed over her curves. She shuddered and arched into his touch as his hand skimmed across her belly to clasp onto her breast. He had never been with a woman who bowed into his hands, begging for more attention.
Lowering his head, his mouth landed on her mound, kissing at first, then flicking his tongue over her nipple and finally nipping to see what her reaction would be. She moaned and her hands fisted into the covers.
Smiling, he did it again and she reacted the same way. “Do ye like that?”
“Aye. I do.” Her breathy response was almost enough to push him over the edge, make him want to plunge in and forge ahead with all his strength, relieving the ache between his legs that had become painful with his desire for Isobel.
His hand explored more, gliding farther down, back across her belly and to the apex of her legs that she had squeezed together, the only sign she was apprehensive about what was to come.
“Open,” he said, and he pushed one leg to the side.
He studied her soulful, chocolate eyes as his fingers delved toward her sweet spot; he saw shock and wonder there, until he let one finger caress her slick folds. Her eyes fluttered back as he continued to stroke her woman’s area, then he let one finger slide into her. She gasped and her eyes became unfocused, like she was dizzy and falling to pieces on the solid bed beneath her.
It undid him, his cock jerking painfully.
He had to feel her wrapped around him, but he also wanted to watch her come undone. Pulling his hand free, he shifted and climbed up, positioning himself above her. Panic lit her gaze, and she shut her eyes.
“Look at me, Isobel.” This was not the killer he’d seen on the battlefield, she was all woman, soft curves, and a trusting heart. He wanted to remember this moment, that she was more than he’d expected.
She obeyed, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze straight on.
“’Twill only hurt briefly. I’ll stop at any time ye wish.”
Once she nodded, he positioned his swollen cock at her entrance, running it up and down her passage a couple times to absorb the liquid that had pooled at her core. Her hands came up to rest on his sides as her eyes briefly darted to where they were about to join and then back to his unwavering attention.
As he entered her, her hands tightened, which reminded him to go slow, give her time to adjust and expand to meet his demands. When he came up against the barrier that reaffirmed her innocence, he waited only a second before plunging through, all the way in one burst, then resting, deep inside her, letting her recover. She only flinched, but her curiosity dimmed.
He wanted it to return. “Are ye all right?”
“Aye,” she said, but she didn’t move, so his head dipped to her mouth, claiming it, and doing his best to make her forget the pain, to bring back the pleasure and desire that had driven him onward.
When she started matching the strokes of his tongue, he knew he had accomplished his goal. Then his mouth wandered to her sensitive throat, the place that had taunted him with his mark the last couple of days. Now, she was fully his. He didn’t need to mark her to know it.
He sucked and nibbled until she was once again arching into him. Slowly, he rotated his pelvis gently, afraid if he pulled out, he would plunge back in and frighten her. Isobel’s hips writhed beneath him, matching his assault as if on instinct. It drove him mad.
She whimpered, a low mewing noise that indicated she was receiving as much pleasure as he. As he rocked, she gasped and threw her head back. He did it again and she fell to pieces beneath him. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, her bonny eyes fixated on him as what he did to her pulled her under.
He felt the pressure build as one wave of sensation rocketed through him, then another and still more as his whole body was wracked with burst after burst of ecstasy so intense he lost the world around him. As his seed filled her, he may have called out her name, but he wasn’t sure.
The room came back into focus. He held himself up then withdrew and rolled next to her, because he didn’t want to flatten her beneath his weight.
Lying beside her, he came to the conclusion he’d made the right choice by indulging in her favors. She was his, after all. He would have to change her; she didn’t have to be the barbarian from the melee. There was a softer side to her, he just had to figure out how to make her this new woman and leave the old one behind. He might even one day forgive her if she gave up her savage ways.
Chapter Eleven
Isobel was afraid to move as the sun rose the next morning. Her husband still lay beside her, their bare skin touching, one arm slung over her belly. She had to relieve herself, but didn’t want him to see her in full daylight, so staying beneath the covers seemed like a good idea.
She couldn’t handle the shame if he looked upon her and decided he no longer wanted her. And now that she knew how pleasant bed play could be for a woman, she was afraid he might turn her away. She ached between her legs, bu
t what she’d experienced last night had made it worth every second.
Grant’s fingers started dancing on her skin, making gooseflesh arise and take hold of her body. When she glanced over, his gaze was on hers.
He smiled and asked, “How did ye sleep?”
“Well. Ye?”
He groaned and rolled onto his side as if he planned to climb on top of her, but all he did was study her. A warm flush gripped her. Och, what must her tangled mess of hair look like?
“Ye should eat well this morning. I’m nae sure where we’ll be stopping along the way, and the provisions we bring with us will be more to fill our bellies than for taste.”
She was used to that, hiding in the woods with the Resistance, but she didn’t want to remind him of her involvement with the group. Not now, when he seemed to be pleased with her.
“I’ll send Annis in to see ye are ready.”
“Does she ken we are leaving? Did she have time to pack for herself?” Isobel’s mind started racing with ways to keep the lass comfortable.
“Aye. I told her.”
Drawing back the covers, he started to scoot from the bed, but stopped short, staring down at his manhood then to the bed where they had been snuggled together. Her cheeks reddened when a small staining of blood caught her eyes. Looking away, pretending to still be sleepy, she was relieved he said nothing and rose to dress.
When his boots hit the floor and stopped at the door, she studied him where he was, hand on the knob, staring at the exit. He looked as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he opened the door, walked out, and shut it quietly behind him.
It felt like mere moments before a light knock sounded.
“’Tis Annis,” the maid called out.
“Enter.” She sat up and as Annis pushed in the door, a little blur ran in and jumped onto the bed, nearly missing the top, but digging in its claws and climbing the rest of the way. “Good morning,” she said to her maid as she rubbed the creature’s neck.
“My sister is going to collect yer kitten to watch while we are gone. She’ll return her when we get back.”
“She isnae my kitten. Does yer sister want to keep her?” The creature was already rubbing its head against hers and making that adorable sound.
“Nae, they have too many animals already.”
“How do ye ken it’s a girl?”
“I looked. Ye should give her a name.”
No, she couldn’t do that. She didn’t want a cat. How was she to get rid of the thing? She stroked its head and the wee creature pushed up into her hand. She’d have slept with it last night, except she’d been with her husband. A blush stole across her face.
“I was told to pack light. We willnae be taking a carriage.”
Good, because she’d felt claustrophobic the few times she’d been in one. She much preferred the open air where she could see threats if one came upon them.
Realizing she was still naked beneath the covers, she scanned the room for her shift. It was near the far wall where Grant had peeled it from her body last night, along with her gown, slippers, and stockings. Och, what a mess, and now Annis would know.
But she was a married woman. Supposedly, she’d been with her husband on the night of their marriage—it should come as no surprise to the lass. Pulling the blankets close, she swallowed. “Will ye please bring my shift?” She pointed to the wadded-up material.
“Aye. I’m sorry I wasnae here to help ye last night.”
“Nae, ’twas no problem.”
A knock sounded. Annis said, “Ah, ’twill be Fergus. Yer husband sent him to retrieve water for ye to bathe before our journey.”
It surprised her Grant took the time to see to her needs. She smiled, anticipating the warm water.
Half an hour later, Isobel was clean and Annis had dressed her in a dark green gown with her hair pulled up. She headed down to break her fast.
As she strolled into the great hall, she saw her husband seated next to the laird. With a deep breath, she made her way toward them and eased into the chair next to Grant.
“But ye ken that wouldnae have stopped him,” the laird said, his expression sad. As Grant shook his head, his father continued, “There was nothing any of us could have done.”
A servant set a plate down in front of her; her husband kept his attention on his father. She nearly flinched when his hand rested on her thigh, a reassuring touch, as if her presence was welcome. A flutter started in her stomach, and she wondered if he could grow to care for her, but she pushed the thrill aside. Thankfully, Grant’s mother came in and took the seat next to hers.
“I have a gift for ye.” Fenella beamed.
“I have everything I need.” She was trying to be polite. No one ever gave her gifts—she wouldn’t know what to say if someone gave her something.
Grant’s mother took her hand and turned it palm up. She placed a pendant attached to a long gold chain in the center and smiled at her. “I want ye to ken ye belong here, and ye will be loved as if ye were family born to us.”
Her eyes began to sting, and Isobel fought an emotion she shouldn’t let in. She didn’t deserve the kind words or a gift. Glancing down, she studied the pendant. It was an enameled replica of the MacDonald crest, circled by alternating rubies and pearls. Her eyes blurred as she fingered the detailing on it. It was fashioned with a pin so it could be worn as a brooch.
“I cannae accept it.” As much as she wanted to belong, she was certain fate was just playing a cruel game on her.
“’Tis yours when ye are ready to wear it. I’m sure this is a tough transition, but when ye are ready, I am here for ye.” Grant’s mother closed Isobel’s fingers around the necklace, leaving the solid weight of it resting in her hand, then she let go and turned to work on the food that had just been set in front of her.
Isobel sat stunned as she held the object under the table, not sure what to do with it.
The rest of the meal, Fenella spoke about the journey her husband and she were about to make. It was pleasant conversation, and it lulled her into a peace she wasn’t sure she wanted, because she couldn’t afford to become complacent. The pendant became heavier and heavier in her hand.
…
As soon as his wife entered the great hall, Grant looked away. All he could think of was their evening together, and how she’d fallen apart beneath him. Isobel closed the distance and sat next to him. She wore a dark green gown that made her skin glow as if she stood in golden beams from the sun. He rested his hand on her leg, not to pin her as he had on their wedding night, but because there was something reassuring about how easily she’d slid into the space next to him. His cock became hard and painful when he caught a whiff of her perfume.
He didn’t look at her because he was finding it difficult to calm the raging desire ignited last night. His father continued his lecture about the uncle he’d lost years earlier. The topic sobered him, and he became more focused.
Leaning in, his father whispered, “Do ye think ye are resisting this match because of what she’s done in the past, or because she reminds ye of my brother?”
“They are nothing alike.” The denial was out of his lips in an instant, but there was a truth to the laird’s statement Grant didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Then ye have not stopped to consider why Isobel was fighting for the Resistance. Have ye bothered to ask her?”
“Aye, but she didnae give me a straight answer.”
“I bet there is something there ye dinnae see. Take the time to ken who she is while ye are gone. I think she will surprise ye.”
Taking his last bite of eggs, Grant thought about his father’s words then took a sip of his drink and pushed away from the table. Addressing Isobel, who was engulfed in a conversation with his mother, he interrupted, “We should be ready to go within the hour. I’ll meet ye and Annis at our chamber to see what I need to carry down.”
Before she had a chance to acknowledge him, he made his way toward the stables to ensure the horses
and the men accompanying them were ready. If he’d seen those full red lips, he might have wanted to drag her up to the room and have his way with her one more time before they left. But he’d witnessed the blood this morning. If he took her too soon, it might hurt her. Better to be safe.
As he walked, he enumerated how his wife and his uncle were different.
As a lass, she had no business going into battle, but his uncle had been young and had had no business facing down the MacLeod men who ultimately killed him. If she gave peace a try, she might find it worked, and if his uncle had given peace a try, he might still be alive. Just like his uncle, she had a sharp tongue and strong intellect.
Damn, they were similar.
But unlike his uncle, if she disappeared from his life tomorrow, he wouldn’t miss her.
Och, but was that true anymore? He’d not stopped thinking about her since waking, and he’d begun to enjoy their verbal sparring, just as he had enjoyed practicing in the lists with his uncle as a child.
Her reaction to him was what drew him in the most. She’d arched into every caress and movement he’d made, urging him on and calling to a primal part of him he hadn’t known existed. He’d never been with a woman who seemed to enjoy bedding as much as she did, and that knowledge sent him to new heights.
His wife was dangerous, but he wanted more.
Owen, Ian’s twin brother, was preparing the horses when he walked into the stables. “We will be ready to go within the half hour.”
“Great.” He asked Ian, who came from one of the stalls, “Do ye think the Royalists have a chance of stopping the Solemn League and Covenant?”
“If there is hope for peace, the other clans will be glad to have ye there by their side.” Ian rubbed his hands on his plaid.
“I will need both of yer help.”
“With what? I dinnae have the same way with words ye do.” His friend laughed.
“With my wife.”
Owen turned his head to the side then quipped, “She is quite bonny. I’d be happy to help if ye cannae handle her.” A hearty laugh filled the stable.
Highland Obligation (Highland Pride) Page 9