‘And what about you, Flora? Are you ready for your bed? Or would you prefer to read or to play cards?’
‘I should prefer to retire, too, if you don’t mind, Lachlan?’
Chapter Eighteen
Outside Flora’s bedchamber, Lachlan carried her hand to his lips.
‘I shall see you in a short while, my dear.’
It sounded so formal. Was this really how married couples behaved? Where was the passion? He felt it, she knew. He had kissed her with passion earlier. And she had kissed him back. She searched his face. It was impassive, but she saw the fire banked in his eyes and she knew the passion was there, tightly controlled. And she sensed the air between them shimmering with...uncertainty. And she knew, in that instant, that his hesitancy had nothing to do with how he felt about her and everything to do with being unsure of himself. He was afraid of doing something wrong. And in that moment, she saw she must be brave enough to show him when she enjoyed his lovemaking.
* * *
A short time later, after Muriel had left her, Lachlan entered Flora’s bedchamber through the connecting door, clad in his dressing gown, his bare feet pushed into his slippers. Flora sat in bed, watching him but, as he went to douse the lamps, she said, ‘Please. Leave them.’
She would not allow this to be a repeat of their first night together, conducted in silence in the dark. She wanted to learn...about him...about what he liked...and about what she liked. She felt her face fire red, but she forced herself to say, ‘I should like to see you.’
Surprise and then pure happiness shone in his expression. His dark eyes, always intense, glowed with an inner fire. He smiled, his teeth gleaming.
‘You never cease to surprise me, Flora McNeill. Or humble me. You have courage enough for the pair of us.’
He shrugged out of his robe and he stood there, allowing her to look her fill. And she took full advantage, feasting her eyes on his torso—the wide span of his shoulders, the dark hair that spread over his muscled chest, then narrowed down over the ridges of his flat abdomen until... Her breath seized and she felt a quiver run through her core. He was truly magnificent, his erection jutting out from a thatch of dark hair. He had been inside her. Once. And now she longed for him to be inside her again. This time, she would allow herself to enjoy her husband and his loving. She would not be scared to respond to him. Her gaze continued down, taking in his narrow hips, straight, hair-dusted legs and—she pressed her lips together, raising her eyes to his face. Lachlan glanced down and then up. Their gazes fused.
‘All of you.’
Lachlan grinned and he kicked off his slippers.
He came towards the bed and took her hands, and pulled her up to stand face to face with him. Except her eyes were level with that mouth-watering chest, he was so much taller than her. His spicy male scent surrounded her and she felt the sudden urge to strip off her nightgown and press her naked flesh to his.
He laced his fingers through hers.
‘Look at me,’ he whispered.
She looked up, into his eyes. Then, his gaze never leaving hers, he released her hands and untied the ribbons at her neck. He pushed her nightgown down, exposing her shoulders, leaving her arms trapped to her sides. His eyes went impossibly dark—black—as he trailed his fingers with a featherlight touch down the sides of her face, across her jaw, neck and shoulders. Her skin sizzled beneath his touch.
‘You are so beautiful.’
His head lowered and he nibbled and licked the same path as his fingers. Gently, he untied the ribbon securing her hair and shook it free, spreading it out across her shoulders, combing his fingers through the heavy tresses.
‘I adore your hair. The feel of it. The colour. Silken fire.’
He pushed her nightgown lower and her breasts popped free as it slithered to the floor. His sharp intake of breath spoke for him and her eyes closed and her head tipped back as he closed his hands around them. And that memory from their wedding night...that tug of anticipation in her womb as he pinched her nipple...it had been no fantasy. Then his mouth was on her and her legs turned weak. His arm at the back of her waist kept her upright as he licked and nipped and suckled and everything...everything...disappeared in a haze of pure feeling.
He swung her into his arms and then lowered her to the bed, following her down, his hands and mouth cruising her body—tasting, kissing, nibbling—as she grabbed at whatever part of him she could reach, frantic fingers clutching his heated skin. She wanted him inside her. Now.
‘Please.’
It was a whimper. She was begging. She didn’t care.
And when he parted her legs and stroked her, the fire inside blazed higher. She moaned, her thighs spreading wider, offering, but he slid down, leaving her hands empty, clutching at empty air before fisting in the bedsheet at the first sweep of his tongue. Her heart pounded. Desperate moans came from far away. Large hands at her hips held her still as she strained to move. Her back arched as heat and urgency filled her, pushing her closer and closer to some unknown edge.
‘Can’t take it...stop...stop...’ She grabbed his hair with both hands, not to push him away, but to keep his head in place. ‘Don’t stop...please don’t stop...’
He didn’t stop.
She reached the edge. Clung on for dear life.
He stopped. Raised his head.
Don’t stop! A frantic plea...in her head.
‘Let go, sweetheart.’
His mouth closed around her again and she let go with a scream as she flew over that edge and all that heat and urgency inside her exploded, surges of pleasure pulsing through her. Lachlan’s lips found hers as the waves that rippled through her slowed and faded. He settled on her, his hips between her widespread thighs.
She was shattered. Exhausted. She wanted more. She wanted him.
Greedily, she reached for his buttocks, hot and firm in her hands as she urged him to fill her. As he slid inside, she drew in a deep breath and her head tipped back, her neck bowed. This felt right. This she remembered from before, but this was a thousand...a million...times better.
Later, as they lay together, sweat damp and sated, Flora found more courage than she’d ever dreamed of as they talked and they played and they explored. And they laughed.
Flora awoke the next morning to a large, warm male body in her bed. Although the steady sound of breathing and the weight of the arm slung over her suggested he still slept, the solid length of flesh nudging her bottom suggested he still had not had his fill of her. Glorying in the pleasure of feeling well loved, she turned sleepily in his arms and studied his face.
Relaxed, his hair tousled, he looked...content. His eyelashes, she saw with a stab of envy, were thick and dark and long as they fanned against his cheeks. His jaw was dark with stubble and his lips...she tore her gaze from them, a blush sweeping her body as she remembered the cries they had wrung from her. Who would have thought such a thing would be so enjoyable? Or so much fun? They had laughed together more last night than they had in the whole of their marriage so far.
He stirred and mumbled something unintelligible and a huge wave of affection and protectiveness swept over her. That last made her frown. It seemed bizarre, for a tiny woman such as her to feel protective towards a man as powerful as Lachlan. But she did and she recognised that, although physically he was bigger and stronger than she would ever be, emotionally he was still fragile. And—she realised with a jolt—she loved him. The feeling had crept up on her so slowly she could not say when it had happened. Joy and contentment filled her. She had rediscovered all the confidence she had lost. She felt more courageous than she’d ever thought possible and she was certain there was nothing she could not say to her husband.
Unlike poor Mother, who barely dared to voice any opinion at all to Father.
She was fortunate indeed. The only words she was not quite brave enough to say were the words,
‘I love you.’
Not yet.
With a secret, wicked smile she reached between them and closed her fingers around his hot, hard length—silky smooth skin sliding over solid flesh.
His eyes opened.
‘Good morning, Lachlan.’
His mouth curved. His arms tightened. His lips touched hers.
And then she was swept away on an irresistible wave of pure passion.
* * *
When she awoke again, she was alone and Bandit was curled up on the end of the bed. She sat up and peered groggily towards the window where the light filtering through a narrow gap in the curtains suggested the morning was not too far advanced. The door to her boudoir stood open and she smiled to realise that Lachlan must have let the little dog out. He tried to hide it, but he had a soft heart.
‘Has Mr McNeill gone to the distillery yet?’ she asked later as Muriel laced her corsets and helped her on with her morning gown.
‘Nay, milady. He sent word for Mr Fraser to attend him here this morning and he told him only to bother him in the next few days if there was something he couldna deal with on his own. He said he wants to be here to help Mrs McKenzie and young Davy to settle into their new home.’
Flora batted away her immediate reaction—a stab of hurt that he had not done the same for her on her first day at Lochmore. She was his wife now, in every sense of the word. She hugged that knowledge to herself. Anna might be his sister and share a bond from the past, but the future belonged to Lachlan and Flora.
‘Where is Mrs McKenzie now? Has she broken her fast yet?’
‘No, milady. The master said to let her sleep. Young Davy is up and about, though. He ate breakfast with the master and Tilly is caring for him now. The master,’ she added, ‘is in his study.’
‘Thank you, Muriel.’
She could not wait to see her husband again. And she had an idea she wanted to discuss with him—the idea that had disturbed her sleep in the hotel in Glasgow. That could not wait either.
* * *
‘Good morning, Lachlan.’ Flora smiled brightly as she approached his desk.
He looked up. His bemused expression quickly cleared and he returned her smile, got to his feet and rounded the desk to her. Before she realised what was happening, his arms were around her and his mouth on hers. She slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders and then threaded her fingers through his hair as she melted in his embrace, thrilled by his spontaneity.
‘Mmm...’ He lifted his head and gazed down at her, his dark eyes warm. ‘Good morning, Flora. To what do I owe the pleasure of this early visit? I left you sound asleep.’
Pure male satisfaction rang in his voice. Flora bit back her smile as she toyed with the top button of his waistcoat, her other hand still on his shoulder, viscerally aware of his solid masculinity. Heat flared between them, leaving her craving more of his kisses. More of his touch. More of him.
She focused her thoughts. ‘There is a matter I have been thinking about. I should like to discuss it with you, if you have the time?’
His eyes crinkled. ‘Of course I have the time.’ He ducked his head, searching her eyes. ‘Have you eaten yet?’
She shook her head. Without another word, Lachlan turned her around and propelled her out of the door and along the passage towards the morning parlour. After a frosty night, the sky was clear of cloud and the room was bathed in the pale light of the November sun.
‘We can talk while you eat.’
Once Flora had settled at the table with a cup of freshly brewed tea and a bowl of porridge, Lachlan sat next to her and raised his brows. ‘So,’ he said. ‘You have my undivided attention.’
‘I have been thinking about your family. The dreadful circumstances...the deaths—’ Her throat closed up, trapping her words. She coughed. Sipped her tea. ‘I am horrified by what your family endured, but...’ She frowned, staring at her bowl as she gathered her thoughts. ‘But more than that...it breaks my heart that there are more—so many more—families facing the same struggle every day.’ She searched his face. ‘I saw that with my own eyes in Edinburgh. Forgotten people. Not living, merely existing, without hope. And women who have no choice but to follow that path Anna was forced down.’
She ate a spoonful of porridge. This was it. What if he dismissed her suggestion? Somehow, this plan—the details of which she had been mulling over ever since they had found Anna—had taken on huge importance to her. She wanted to be heard and she longed for him to take her seriously.
He waited silently for her to continue.
‘Some of the ladies I spoke to at Sir Keith’s house party—the wives of the businessmen there, not the others—’ She risked a quick grin and was gratified by the twitch of his lips in response. ‘And also many of the guests at Aunt Tessa’s soirée...they spoke of educational foundations and of philanthropic organisations and it was suggested I might like to join their committees.’
‘If that is what you would like to do, Flora, I shall not stand in your way.’
‘But it is not. I thought—I should need your agreement, of course—but I thought...that is, I should like to...’
Lachlan’s hand covered hers on the table and squeezed. ‘Just tell me, Flora. Whatever it is you would like to do, we will try to find a way to make it possible. But I cannot give you my opinion unless you actually speak the words.’
‘I should like us to set up our own charity to help poor families in Glasgow, particularly women who find themselves on their own with children to support. I thought...maybe we might set up a fashion business that will provide such women with decently paid piecework they can do at home? And we could use any profits to help those who cannot work. I’d like to do more than just sit on a committee and talk about doing good. I should like to make a difference.’
Lachlan shoved his chair back abruptly and crossed to the window. Flora watched him carefully, trying not to jump to the conclusion that she’d angered him. Now she’d come this far she knew if she was ever to find her voice in this marriage, this was the time to stand firm. Lachlan’s back expanded as he drew in a deep breath, then he returned, sat down again and took her hand.
‘When we married I knew you had led a sheltered life and I feared you could never hope to understand the struggle and hardships of my childhood. You have proved me wrong. I now know the kindness and generosity in your heart—I saw and felt your distress in Edinburgh. Not only do I think it’s a wonderful idea, I can tell you that it is also my dream to do exactly as you have suggested. It was always my plan to set up a charity using the profits generated from Carnmore Whisky and that is one reason it is so important to me that the business expands and is successful.’
He gazed down at their joined hands, playing with her fingers.
‘One of my deepest regrets is that I never knew that my mother was ill, or that she had passed away and left Anna alone. Ma couldn’t read or write and so we couldn’t keep in touch. I believe one of the best ways of improving the lives of the poor is to ensure the workers are paid sufficient wages to afford a roof over their heads and enough food to eat. Everyone benefits—they spend that money in the place they live and shops and traders prosper, too. And it would remove the need for children to earn so they will have the time to be better educated. Then, when they grow up they will be in a position to improve their lives, as I have. Although—’
He stopped speaking as the door opened. Anna, holding Davy’s hand, hesitated on the threshold, looking from Lachlan to Flora and back again, her expression uneasy.
‘Is it all right to come in?’
Lachlan leapt to his feet and Flora—although she was sorry Anna felt uncomfortable at interrupting them—tried hard to quell her dismay at the interruption. It had finally felt as though she and Lachlan were truly communicating. There had been a meeting of minds—she had been heard, her ideas given credence and, at last, she felt a
s though she could make a difference.
She smiled at Anna nevertheless. ‘Good morning, Anna.’
‘Did you sleep well, Anna?’ Lachlan watched his sister with a kind of hungry intensity.
‘Davy was restless.’
‘He will settle,’ said Lachlan. ‘It was a long, tiring day for us all yesterday. Sit down, have some breakfast. I can’t wait to show you around the castle and the grounds.’
It seemed to Flora that Anna suppressed a shudder, but she sat at the table as bid and Lachlan ladled porridge into a bowl for her.
Flora held out her hand to Davy. ‘Come and sit with your Auntie Flora, Davy, while your mama eats her breakfast.’
As she lifted Davy to her lap, Lachlan said, ‘I have been thinking, Anna—Tilly is good with Davy, so if you are happy with her, I can make her change in duties permanent.’
Anna frowned. ‘There is no need to go to such trouble for us, Lachy.’
‘It is no trouble. This is your home now. The nursery suite will be perfect for Davy and I hope it won’t be too long before he’s not the only child at Lochmore.’
‘I told ye yesterday, Lachy. I dinna want to stay here for ever.’
‘Nonsense. You’ll love it here. It’s only because it’s all so strange.’
Anna appeared to withdraw into herself at his eager words and Flora bit her tongue against warning Lachlan not to push his sister too hard.
‘You’ll soon feel at home, you’ll see. We’ll go down to the beach later—Davy will love running round with Bandit, even though it’s chilly out there.’
‘Ye dinna mean to keep us prisoner here, do ye, Lachy?’
Anna spoke as though in jest, but Flora feared there was a serious point underlying her question.
* * *
The days blended one into the other as November advanced and it was increasingly obvious that Lochmore—the size of it, the wildness, the loneliness—all terrified Anna. She missed the hustle and bustle of the city and wanted nothing more than to return to Glasgow and she argued frequently with Lachlan over her future. Flora tried hard to make friends with her sister-in-law, but Anna never seemed comfortable in Flora’s company.
His Convenient Highland Wedding Page 20