by Sakwa, Kim
Look at him. Was he serious? She could do little else. God he was handsome, and he kept calling her “love”—with that voice. She was so warm, surrounded by so many people, in the tiny chapel aglow with what must be hundreds of candles. And there were so many beautiful flowers everywhere, it smelled wonderful. She wasn’t even upset that everyone had lied to her all morning. How could she be when Greylen was so close now? He was searching her eyes. He really was something to look at. And, my God, there was a lot of him too.
“Gwendolyn?”
“Hmmm.”
“Tell Father Michael you will, love.”
“Will what, Greylen?”
“Marry me.”
Greylen’s shout could have parted the sea, but Gwen couldn’t fathom why he felt the need to yell right now. Hadn’t she already told him that she would? She felt rather smug, too, pointing out the obvious to him. “Isn’t that why we’re here?” she asked.
Greylen’s hands fisted as a tic marred his features. “Gwendolyn, the nice man asked if you’ll have me. You’ve not answered.”
“Oh my God,” she shouted. She blanked out. She peeked around Greylen to tell Father Michael she would…but hesitated. “Greylen?” she finally whispered, looking up again.
“Aye,” he answered in an ominous drawl.
Gwen wrung her hands together. Then stepped even closer to him, placing her hands on his chest so she could lean up and whisper. “Everything’s going to be all right, isn’t it, Greylen?”
She felt the tension leaving him at her question, and he gently answered, “Aye, Gwen.”
“We’ll be happy, won’t we?”
“I swear it.”
“I mean—”
“Gwendolyn!”
She jumped at his shout, causing Father Michael to do the same when she practically screamed “I will” to the man.
The rest happened in such a blur she was sorry they hadn’t hired a photographer or videographer to capture it. Then she repeated some of the most ridiculous words and promises she’d ever heard. Vows to be “buxom and bonny” and in a way she couldn’t even believe, which made her realize why they couldn’t hire anyone in the first place. She was practically in the frigging Ice Age.
But Gavin did give her away, and he and Greylen placed her hand in Father Michael’s. Somehow, the gesture of their three hands joined together meant as much as exchanging her vows with Greylen. Somehow, their lives were now bound together, forever.
She stared at the ring Greylen had given her, a ring identical to the one that he wore. A simple gold band engraved with the same design on her dress, swirling ovals with no beginning and no end. Father Michael interrupted her inspection when he told Greylen he could kiss his bride. Her. And her husband kissed her all right—jeez, the man was going to take her on the floor.
Father Michael announced them to the congregants, and Greylen led her from the church. He addressed his clan with a powerful shout. “I give you Lady Gwendolyn MacGreggor, your new mistress.” Then he turned with a boyish grin as they cheered. “Come, wife, we’ve a celebration.”
And it was.
An enchanting night filled with music and laughter. Bagpipes played jaunty tunes, and they danced together under the stars. Later, they sat at one of the long, beautifully adorned tables set between the chapel and the keep, now laden with platters as they drank to endless toasts. Anna and Lady Madelyn hadn’t missed a single detail and Cook truly outdid herself.
But the best part of her night was when Greylen held her in the midst of people swirling around them, oblivious to everything as he rested his forehead against hers. “That I’m dancing with you, and we celebrate our joining—it fills my heart, Gwen.”
They were the sweetest words she’d ever heard, and she’d kissed him in front of everyone. Quite thoroughly too.
She stood with Lady Madelyn now, barely able to listen as she met Greylen’s look. He was with his men on the other side of the courtyard, staring at her as they continued to talk. He must have said something to dismiss himself because his men walked back to the festivities and he toward her. The look in his eyes. The way he carried himself.
My God, she was married to that man!
Greylen looked at his wife as he made his approach. In truth, he’d been unable to take his eyes from her the entire night. She was breathtaking. His mother kissed her cheek before heading in Isabelle’s direction, and now his wife stood alone staring back. He couldn’t close the distance fast enough.
“’Tis time to go inside, Gwen,” he said, stroking her cheek when he reached her.
“Wouldn’t it be rude for us to leave now?” she asked.
“Nay, wife, ’tis expected.”
He took her hand and walked with her toward the keep. Then he cradled her in his arms, carrying her up the steps and through the main doors.
“Greylen?”
“Aye, love.”
“That was a wonderful evening.” She sighed, rubbing her face against his chest.
“It still is, Gwen.”
Greylen turned atop the landing and walked toward his chamber, which he’d not been within for weeks. He carried her to the fireplace and set her down before the hearth. Then knelt to add more logs, offering her a smile when he turned. She was biting her lip again. Shaking his head, he filled a goblet with wine, then took a drink as he stared at her. Then he placed it to her lips, tilting the glass until ’twas empty.
“You think to get me drunk?” she teased.
“Nay.” He shook his head. “I think to ease your nerves.” He smiled mischievously before tossing the glass into the fire. She laughed, sensing his playfulness. Then he removed her headpiece and pulled her into his arms. “God, how I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
Music still played in the courtyard and the sounds carried to their chamber. He rocked Gwen in his arms, so grateful to finally be with her. She held him back, her head resting upon his chest. He was determined to take things slow, though if their last time together was any indication of how the night might progress, they’d be abed in seconds.
After a few quiet moments he asked, “Would you like more wine, Gwen?”
She gave a small laugh, as if she’d considered it. Then her look became deadly earnest and she shook her head. “No, Greylen. I want you to kiss m—”
He didn’t give her the chance to finish. He cupped the back of her head and covered her mouth. He joined their lips from every angle possible, then tilted her face, moving her so she would open for him, and she did, moaning as his tongue swept inside. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair. The pleasure he felt ’twas immeasurable.
She seemed stunned when he pulled away moments later. Judging from her expression, mayhap annoyed was a better description. He hushed her pout with another kiss, then turned her to untie the laces of her dress. There were many, and as he slowly pulled each free and let them fall from his hand, he kissed her. Her lovely back… The delicate slope of her neck… Then the soft curve of her shoulder. She moaned then, a gesture he rewarded with a gentle nip. Her back completely exposed, his fingers ran the length of her spine and her body reacted to his touch with a tremor. Then she was in his arms again, the feel of her bare skin igniting his desire all the more.
Long minutes later, he broke their kiss. Another instance for his wife to express her displeasure with a disgruntled look. He was intent, however, to divest her of her dress, and saw to the matter at once. He’d already removed her belt as he’d kissed her before, leaving her undress but only one step away. His hands covered her shoulders and his fingers pressed her skin as he pushed the sleeves down. The weight of her dress fell to the floor where it lay pooled at her feet.
Stunned by the vision before him, he took a step back. Unable to stop himself, he found he stood there, taking to memory his wife’s every measure. And
good God, if she didn’t stand proudly before him as if emblazoned by his stare. Every part of her was lean and toned, yet utterly feminine. Her breasts were small, their fullness so enticing he ached to reach out and touch them. Her stomach was flat, her hips narrow. He’d never been with another like her, yet her form made him burn unlike any before. His hands fisted—he closed the gap.
His arms snaked behind her back as his hands cupped her head to keep her still, and then he kissed her in a way he’d never kissed another before. This kiss was subjugating and purely carnal. ’Twas the most evocative experience he’d ever had, holding his wife’s naked body against his clothed one. He had a need to dominate her, yet he felt her give at every turn, moving as he wanted her to while she pressed her body fully against his. It seemed she gladly, willingly, gave in to his every command. He needed her abed or he’d surely take her on the floor.
Here.
Now.
He felt the loss of her lips for only a second as he swept her off her feet. Then he cradled her in his arms and kissed her again. He laid her atop the covers, lowering her head to the softness of the pillows, and broke their kiss just to look at her again. Her swollen lips and body lay naked before him…naked but for the sandals upon her feet, saucy, gold-covered sandals he’d not noticed before.
His hands fisted, and he stood. He had to slow down.
He’d contrived this night forever, but damn if his noble intentions weren’t falling to the wayside. He began extinguishing the wicks throughout the room, watching her as he carried out each task. And, good God, if she didn’t watch him back.
I’ve plans, Gwendolyn, and you’re helping them all to hell.
He filled another goblet, drained it, then filled it again.
He brought it to the bedside. “Another drink?” he asked. Gwen nodded and just as before, he held the glass for her. She smiled and moved over, patting the mattress. He gave a laugh, shaking his head. “Are you not skittish at all, woman?”
“Not yet,” she replied. “Come here,” she all but begged.
Greylen lay beside her, running his fingers down the side of her face and neck. Gwen closed her eyes and made the most intoxicating sound. It went straight to his groin. She made it again, but this time, he took it. He covered her lips as it formed in the back of her throat, wondering if he might die from the pleasure it gave him. His hand brushed across her stomach and thighs. Then slipped beneath each knee and he removed her sandals one at a time.
He placed her hands over her head and made sure to give her a pointed look indicating she keep them there. She nodded her agreement. “Take your shirt off, Greylen,” she whispered against his lips. She smiled as he ripped it from his body, then laughed as his boots flew across the room. But when he laid his dagger atop the nightstand, the strangest expression came over her. ’Twas as if his habit was something she might cherish for the rest of her life. Where that thought came from, he’d no idea.
She sighed when he took her in his arms again, rubbing his back and pressing him closer. He pulled back and shook his head. Had he not just ordered, albeit silently, to keep her hands safely off his person and above her head.
She tilted her head with a look of mayhap dare, and damn if she didn’t purposely take her time. Stretching her arms high about her head and so enticingly, his hand followed their movement, stroking her from hip to shoulder. He realized then, ’twas exactly what she wanted.
“Well played, wife.”
“Kiss me again, Greylen.”
“You please me more than you’ll ev—”
“Greylen?”
“Aye?”
“Shut up and k—”
So emboldened by Gwen’s actions, he’d not been able to curb the power and force with which he began to feast upon her once more. Seconds later, he realized he needn’t have feared for she met him kiss for kiss and touch for touch. Then their bodies were moving together, their sounds louder as they found the perfect rhythm. That slow, torturous grind he’d felt with her but once before, the night he’d been called away.
His need of his wife now bordered on madness. Lost to the sweet taste of her mouth, the exquisite contours of her body, and the moist heat they created as he rubbed himself between her thighs. His well-intentioned plans—dust.
Cease, man, cease.
Battle, MacGreggor, think battle. Blood…putrid stench…haunting screams…ahhh.
Victorious, he rolled, taking Gwen with him. He pressed her against the mattress and lay on his side. Done playing games, he trapped her beneath his leg. Then he caressed her entire body, stroking her from shoulder to thigh. He covered her breasts, kneading their fullness with his hand, listening to her responses as he took her nipple between his finger and thumb, caressing, then squeezing with more pressure as her moans became desperate.
Then his lips were on the side of her face…grazing her neck…rubbing the swell of each breast until at last he was taking her in his mouth, sucking and scraping and biting as she continued to writhe beneath him.
His hand ran the length of her inner thigh, pushing her wide. Then Gwen’s hands were tangling in his hair, stroking his neck, the width of his shoulders…’Twas too much. He looked up, his eyes turning harsh before she whimpered and placed her hands behind her head again.
Gwen’s whimper was real, but not because of Greylen’s stern look. She wasn’t scared of his aggressiveness, she liked it—she loved it. His smoldering eyes nearly sent her over the edge. Her body pulsed, begging to be touched. His dominance only inflamed her. Playing with fire, she reached for him again…so close to touching him, then he trapped her wrists in his hand. He growled and pinned her to the mattress with his leg, then spread her wide with his knee. She lay helpless beside him, halfway beneath him, and she’d never felt more alive in her entire life.
Her husband stared at her outstretched body, his hand stroking her as her hips strained against him. She begged for his touch. Just when she thought she couldn’t wait another second, his fingers pressed within her folds, sliding down her center. He hissed through his teeth as he skimmed through her wetness. She moaned as his hand slid back up and he spread her with his fingers, gliding atop her most sensitive flesh, stroking and circling over and over, again and again.
He removed the weight of his leg, allowing her to move her hips. Her moans, now short cries as she came closer to her orgasm. Powerless but to yield, Gwen began to break. Her wrists were still trapped in the circle of Greylen’s fingers, her arms stretched far above her head. Her lips were now besieged by sensuous pulls and tugs with his teeth. Then his finger moved inside her, deeper and faster, again and again, as his thumb circled above with more pressure. Her cries of release surrendered against his lips, mixing with his husky groan as she shook from her orgasm.
His ministrations turned gentle now and didn’t stop until her pleasure was complete, then he broke their kiss and held her passion-glazed eyes as he stepped from the bed.
Gwen watched Greylen remove his trousers, staring at the most incredible male body she’d ever seen. He was at least six feet six and made of solid steel. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he’d kill her. But she did know better, and after years of torturous dreams making love to this man, she was ready for satisfaction. Ready to give herself to the only man she’d ever have. The man she’d waited for her entire life.
She held out her hands, a gesture that must have surprised him, for he smiled, shaking his head. Then he came back to bed and slowly moved over her, the feel of his skin making her sigh as he settled atop her. That feeling of coming home, this had to be it. Covered by her husband’s body—tracing the side of his face as she moved her foot along the length of his calf—she knew she was finally home.
Her husband held his weight on his arms as he looked down at her. He kissed her before leaning back, then encircled her waist and pulled her toward him. He spread her wide and laid the base of
his erection completely against her. His eyes closed, and his head fell back—but this time, Gwen hissed. Then her husband began stroking his entire length against her till her cries started anew. Her head moved atop the pillow as her hands pressed the headboard to push herself against him.
“Greylen, please…I need you…please.”
“Shh,” he said, hushing her. “I know, love, almost.” He continued to stroke her, spreading her farther to place the tip of his erection against her innermost folds. Then his fingers rubbed her to another orgasm but seconds away. Her head fell back. She pulsed against him. “Look at me, Gwen. Now.” His command came with such ferocity their eyes locked. He entered her.
He thrust himself completely inside. The resistance of flesh as he entered, the tear of what must have remained of her hymen, took her completely by surprise. Greylen remained motionless, as if waiting for her to adjust to him. He lifted his head. “I’m so sorry, Gwen.” His words were filled with anguish.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore, Greylen.” She said the words in such a way, she thought to soothe him. Then she motioned with her hands for him to come to her.
He gently shifted his weight as she untangled her legs and covered her with his body. Then he held her head in his hands, stroking her face with his thumbs. “I didn’t know,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“I didn’t tell you,” she whispered back. “Kiss me again, Greylen. Make love to me, please.”
He did kiss her again and then heeding her words, he began to move inside her. The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before. He pushed slowly at first, but when she began tilting her own hips, meeting each of his downward thrusts as she brought herself up, it seemed he gave in to the moment completely. He whispered in her ear as he drove inside her—burying himself again and again, deeper and deeper as she clutched his shoulders and held him to her with her heels.
She cried his name again and again as her body became feverish and taut once more. “I’ve got you, love. Just hold on to me. Ah, Gwen—” He thrust one final time, holding her tight, his breaths ragged against her neck as his body shook uncontrollably atop hers.