All was pleasantly quiet after Edna left. Reveling in the warmth as it seeped into her bones, Grace rested her arms on the top of the tub, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. The pleasant scent of sage and lavender permeated the steam that danced upward from the water, assaulting her nostrils and further relaxing her.
“Is all to yer satisfaction, Grace?”
At the sound of Ewan’s voice, her head snapped up. Instinctively she brought her arms forward to modestly cover her breasts, sending a wave of water sloshing over the edge of the tub. She opened her mouth to shout at him to leave, but then stopped. They were married. He had every right to see her naked body.
Grace slowly unfurled her closed fists. Drowning out the small voice of doubt in her mind, she lowered her arms, then brazenly arched her back. She felt the cool air immediately on her exposed breasts, felt her nipples pucker. Yet she refused to sink below and hide herself.
Ewan spoke not a word. He stood still as a stone and stared, his eyes first widening in surprise and then narrowing. In disapproval? Disgust? Desire?
Perplexed, she watched him, anxious and fearful of his next move. The awful thought that he regretted their marriage, regretted having her as his wife, intruded and Grace nearly allowed herself to shrink beneath the water.
Their eyes met and locked. Grace swore she could see his Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed. His reaction gave her courage.
“Alas, the tub is too small to share, but I invite ye to partake of it when I’m done. The water will still be warm and fairly clean.” Teasingly, she lifted the washrag and began soaping her breasts, using long, massaging strokes.
He cleared his throat. Even from this distance Grace could swear she saw beads of sweat on his brow. His eyes were bright now and intent on her every move. Should I rise from the tub and walk toward him? Or should I wait for him to come to me?
As Grace was uncertain she possessed the nerve to be so brazen, it was more of a rhetorical question. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, her breath was coming fast, and for the first time in more years than she could recall, she felt alive with excitement.
She shut her eyes and gathered her composure. If she could not bolster the nerve to go to him, then she must figure out a way to get him to come to her. Now. Before the moment was forever lost.
Ewan was speechless. His mind swirled with erotic thoughts as he beheld Grace’s lush, moist, coral lips, her sensual smile, and glittering eyes. Who was this seductive creature who met his gaze with a bold challenge and unflinching eyes? Who stroked her creamy flesh so invitingly, teasing all his senses, driving him near to madness?
The bulk of her hair was pinned atop her head, but several long tendrils of it had escaped to curl enticingly about her neck and shoulders. He smashed his lips together tightly as he imagined pressing them against that vulnerable spot on her neck, then traveling lower. Licking, tasting, biting.
Desperation pressed in on him. All he could think about was taking her in his arms and kissing her. He wanted to feel her next to him, her breasts flattening against his chest. He wanted to rub his aroused flesh against her softness, to kiss her creamy, pink skin everywhere. To trace the pouting cleft of her sex, first with his fingers and then with his tongue. To make her whimper with need, cry out in satisfaction.
His groin tightened as lust unfurled deep in his gut. She was beguiling. Bewitching. And all his.
Yet he could not claim her. Not yet. Not here.
These past few days had been as near to hell on earth as Ewan could imagine. Wed to the woman of his dreams, yet unable to consummate the union. He had struggled mightily with his conscience over that decision, but honor had prevailed.
Grace was a noble lady, gently born and gently reared. No matter that she was a widow and not an untried maiden, no true lady deserved to be taken in a crude tent after enduring hours of hard riding in the cool, misty rain.
Nay, Grace deserved a proper bed, with feather ticking and scented, silken sheets. A blazing fire, a candlelit chamber, and above all privacy. She deserved romance as well as passion, respect as well as desire. Ewan wanted much more than a swift, crude coupling with her—he wanted to gain her trust, enflame her senses, and win her loyalty.
Leave! Now! It was the only possible course of action if he had any hope of keeping his vow to wait until the proper moment to consummate this marriage. All he need do was turn around and start walking.
A moment passed. And then another.
He didn’t move.
“I’ve missed ye, Ewan,” she said quietly.
He felt his brow furrow in puzzlement. “I’ve been by yer side each day.”
She shrugged, making the water ripple in the tub. It lapped against her nipples. He followed the movement, imagining what that creamy flesh would taste like in his mouth, how the nipple would harden and pebble when he teased it with his tongue.
“Aye, yer body has been beside me, but yer laughter and teasing smiles are gone,” she said. “Ye’re distant and vague. Most days I feel as though I’m intruding upon yer life and it saddens me.”
Ewan blinked in surprise. She spoke the words plainly, without accusation or self-pity. Guilt swamped him. He had vowed to make her happy, not bring her distress.
“Ye are my lady wife. I respect and honor ye above all others.”
“But ye do not want me,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Not want ye! Christ’s bones, all I think about is ye.” Losing the tight grip on his emotions, Ewan strode purposely forward. As he neared the tub he was enveloped in the heady scent of lavender, sage, and woman.
“Do ye regret our marriage, Ewan?”
“Nay!”
Grace’s head dropped back and she cast him a woeful look. “Then will ye at least give me a proper kiss?” she asked solemnly.
Her inviting request sent a bolt of lightning through his gut. Succumbing to the hunger too long denied, Ewan growled and reached for her. Pulling her wet body from the tub, he scooped Grace into his arms, savoring the feel of her naked flesh sliding against his.
Ewan’s lips claimed hers in a long, hard, punishing kiss. He kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her warmth. A startled whimper escaped her lips and then she returned his kiss eagerly, weakening his knees with the promise of her passion.
Ripples of pleasure tore through him. He cupped her breast with his palm, thumbing the nipple. Her breath hitched as it hardened and he could feel her entire body start to quiver. He continued playing with her for a few minutes, stroking her tender flesh with reverent care and wonder.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders and arched into him, pressing against his erection until he was aching with desperate need. He slid his hands down her wet body, caressing her curving hip and thigh, then moving between her legs. She gasped and lifted her hips, offering herself to him.
’Twas pure torture. He could not bear it. Her passionate response made him forget his plan to be noble, to wait until the setting was right. Grace’s excitement roused the beast inside him; one that would demand satisfaction if he allowed it to take control.
Letting out an angry growl, Ewan pulled away and drew in a labored breath. “Enough! We must stop or else I’ll lose control.”
Grace’s head fell forward. Her breath wheezed in short bursts, warm and moist against his jaw. “I think I would enjoy that very much,” she whispered in his ear, before lowering her lips and nipping along his neck. “Feeling ye lose control.”
Ewan shivered and yanked his head back. “Ye dinnae understand. We need to wait fer a proper time, a proper setting. By all the saints, ye are a lady, Grace!”
“Fie, how can that possibly matter?” Her expression turned grave. “I’ve no wish to hear any details of yer past female conquests, husband, yet I find it difficult to fathom that ye’ve never bedded a lady before.”
Upon hearing her indignant words, the ground beneath his feet seemed to shift. He was doing this out of respect for her. Yet she seemed almost angry at the
gesture.
Ewan shook his head in confusion. He felt as green as a lad with his first lass. Though instead of trying to get the female into his bed, he was working far too hard to keep her out of his bed. Bloody hell, the world truly had gone mad!
“Grace, ye are not just any lady, ye are my lady wife. I cannae take ye while my men sleep so near and we’ve only the thin fabric walls of this tent to muffle the sounds of our lovemaking. ’Tis disrespectful to ye.”
“I had no idea ye were such a prim and proper man. Nor was I aware that yer soldiers are so sensitive,” she replied tartly.
The sarcasm surprised him. She should be pleased at his sacrifice, for it was a great one. Instead she seemed . . . annoyed?
“Why do ye not understand?” he asked. “I need to protect ye, all of ye, and that includes yer reputation.”
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “We’ve never done more than kiss. How do ye know I’ll make any noise when we couple?”
The wicked laugh bubbled up inside him. “Och, love, ye’ll wake the heavens with yer cries of passion and mine will bring the devil himself up from Hades.”
“Boastful claims, sir. Have ye any actions to prove yer words?”
’Twas not only what she said, but the saucy way she spoke that shattered Ewan’s resolve. Honestly, why should he be so concerned about her delicate sensibilities when she obviously wasn’t?
“If that’s a challenge, Grace, then it shall be well met.”
Ewan’s lips met hers in a whispered kiss and then the floodgates broke. Encircling her wet form in his arms, Ewan carried his bride to the bed.
He laid her on her back and climbed above her. He bent his head and touched his mouth to her nipple. Gently at first, slowly. The moment he heard her moan of encouragement, Ewan pulled the nipple into his mouth. Flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth, he suckled greedily.
Grace’s entire body jerked. Ewan moved his tongue in a steady circle. His lips and tongue teased her unmercifully, then moved lower, across her soft belly. He pushed her legs apart and Grace’s fingers sank into his hair. He kissed the inside of one saintly thigh, then the other, teasingly working his way toward his ultimate goal.
Finally his lips closed around the warm, moist center of her femininity. Grace cried out. “Ewan, I . . .” Her head jerked restlessly back and forth, her hips began moving in wild abandon.
Inflamed by her response, Ewan laved the tiny pearl nestled between her soft folds, stroking her with the urgency that was pounding through his own veins. Her taste and scent were arousing him to maddening pleasure. His cock had never felt so hard, his lust had never soared so high, so fast, so intensely.
Slowly. Slowly. A sheen of sweat broke out on his upper lip. She was wet, hot, and clearly ready for him, but he would bring her to pleasure with his mouth first. Ewan moved his tongue in a steady circle, allowing her whimpering cries and undulating hips to guide his actions.
It didn’t take long. He felt her release starting to shudder through her body and he doubled his efforts. “Let it happen,” he whispered. “Come fer me, Grace.”
He covered her completely with his mouth and she screamed. A long, loud, high-pitched keening wail of ecstasy. The sound of it filled Ewan’s heart in a way he never expected. Mine! Yet beneath the bolt of possessive fervor was a need to protect this woman with everything he could muster. To nurture and share this intense emotion. To love.
He shifted from between her legs. Rising to his knees, Ewan gazed down at her. Her breathing was still erratic, her eyes closed. One arm was splayed limply across her stomach, the other was resting against her forehead.
But for Ewan, the best gift of all was the sated, satisfied smile on her delectable lips.
Grace was floating. Her body felt weightless, awash in a sea of pleasure that surrounded her in total bliss. She opened her eyes and stretched her back. Moving the hand positioned across her forehead down to her chest, she laid her palm flat against her body and felt the wild beating of her heart.
That was . . . indescribable! So many thoughts and strange emotions rumbled and collided through her mind. She wanted desperately to voice them, to talk to Ewan about what had just occurred, but coherent speech was beyond her at the moment.
Craving contact, she reached out and ran her hand down his thigh. Ewan jerked at her touch, his blue eyes flaring. His breathing was heavy and unsteady. It was then she realized how rigidly he was holding himself, how hard he was struggling to stay in control.
She stared at him with fascination, her senses coming to life. “Come, husband. Let us make some real noise.”
His mouth curved in a beautiful, conspiratorial smile as she reached for his tunic. It took little effort to remove his clothing, but there was no time to admire his muscular form. He pushed her against the mattress and leaned over her, bracing his elbows on either side of her head.
The hunger she saw in his eyes made her feel deliciously wanton—and powerful. Never before had she seen such desire reflected back at her from a man’s eyes. It erased any of the doubts that had started creeping into her head about how much Ewan wanted her. The truth was plain to see and it made her giddy with wicked delight.
A husky sound rumbled deep in Ewan’s chest as she molded her body to his. She kissed him, throwing every shred of longing she felt into the act, saying with her lips and tongue and body what words could not adequately express. He answered with another throaty moan and a hard thrust of his hips.
Boldly she nibbled at his lower lip, pulling it into her mouth and then slowly releasing it. Her fingers moved over his shoulders and muscled back, feeling the raised scars of his wounds. He was a warrior, a protector, and she knew that she could trust him with her life.
Hardly believing her daring, Grace continued her exploration, running her hands down to his trim waist, to his muscular buttocks. ’Twas a heady feeling to lie beneath such a strong man, his hard body pressed intimately against hers. Pushing the hair from his face, she smiled up at him, hoping to convey the depth of her emotions.
Her heart nearly melted when he smiled back, that boyish grin that made dimples appear in his cheeks and his eyes sparkle with mischief. Overcome with emotion, Grace swallowed, then shook her head. This was a joyful, rapturous moment between them. There was no cause for tears.
She kissed him playfully on the lips, then brought her hand down to touch the hardness between his legs. He groaned and bucked his hips. Grace smiled and stroked slowly upward with her fingertips, touching along the length of his penis.
He rumbled something in a harsh growl; Grace was too intent in her examination of his fascinating male appendage to try and understand him. She stroked him rhythmically, excited by the smooth velvet flesh, tantalized by the pulsing shaft that grew longer and thicker with every glide of her hand.
She stretched her body, pressing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest. She marveled at the feel of him, hard and heavy and solid, reveled in the heat that simmered between them. Teasingly, she rotated her hips, trapping him snuggly between her thighs. As tendrils of fire radiated through her body, she buried her fingers in his hair and drew his face close to her own.
“Kiss me,” she commanded, and he eagerly complied.
Her lips grew swollen from his endless kisses. With each one she arched herself into his hardness with complete abandon, breathlessly kissing him back. Her head was swimming in a haze of trembling excitement and it felt so good, so right.
“I can wait no longer, Grace,” Ewan rasped. He dropped his head and grazed her breasts with his teeth. “If ye aren’t ready fer me now, then ye’ll never be.”
She stifled a groan and shifted her legs. Ewan pushed them wide with his knees, settling himself between them. She could feel the tip of his hard penis seeking entrance. Ears ringing with a surge of anticipation, Grace reached up and cradled Ewan’s face between her hands, meeting his eyes, wanting their joining to include far more than merely their bodies. Silently, Ewan complied with h
er wish, allowing her to see the haze of desire shimmering in his eyes.
They stayed locked in place for a long moment and then suddenly, without any warning, he plunged into her. Tears misted her eyes—not from pain, but from joy. At the sight of them, Ewan ceased moving. “Am I hurting ye, lass?”
“Nay, oh, nay.” Grace wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “’Tis truly glorious.”
Her legs tightened and she wiggled her hips to show him she meant every word. Every part of her tingled with the feel of him stretching and filling her. Need pulsed through her, an ache that only Ewan could assuage. She caressed his back, her nails lightly trailing over the muscles as he rocked back and forth, urging him to continue. The slow thrusts quickly built in intensity. Grace raised her legs and Ewan growled, driving into her with deep, hard strokes, claiming her with a possession she found breathless.
He slid into her again and again, torturing her as he deftly maneuvered his hips. By all the saints, the man had not exaggerated his skill or falsely boasted about his prowess. Grace clung to him as he teased and played with her, bringing them both to the edge of release and then suddenly stopping. Prolonging the anticipation until they were both nearly out of their minds.
She felt herself reaching, straining for the pleasure that was just beyond her and then the white-hot sun burst over her. But this time it was far more beautiful, for Ewan joined her in bliss. She heard his strangled moan deep in his chest as he found his release, felt the hot, potent seed fill her womb.
He collapsed atop her, his body still pulsing inside her. She stroked his head soothingly, marveling at how utterly her life had changed, how rich and filled with promise it had become.
After a time, his harsh breathing slowed. Grace continued to pet him, wanting so much to hold and capture the moment. Yet she knew it could not last. She gave him one final hug, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment invading her heart, knowing what would happen next.
First, he’ll pull away. Next, he’ll kiss my cheek. Then the tent will fill with the sound of his snores.
Bride of a Scottish Warrior Page 16