It was nothing like she’d imagined. She’d expected to have her friends around her, with Muira nearby at least, but she’d been robbed of even that. There had been no flowers, no music, and no wedding feast. The deal had been struck with no more circumstance than a sale at the festival market-because that’s really all it was, she thought savagely: A bargain.
As they turned down the final passageway to Ewan’s quarters, Cait became more desperate to settle her mind and look on the situation with a dispassionate mind. This wasn’t love, she reminded herself, at least not on Ewan’s part. She had settled for something less-for the illusion of sharing his life, and the hope of bearing his son, and it was folly to dream about anything else.
Yet, despite all this sound and studied wisdom floating around in Cait’s head, she wasn’t thinking of business when they finally reached Ewan’s room. He’d no more than placed his hand on the door, than gooseflesh spread across her skin. The fine blonde hairs on her forearm prickled when her husband turned and briefly met her eyes. “I’ll carry you over,” he announced, “It’s tradition, after all.”
“Tradition,” Cait murmured. Ancient Customs, nothing more. She opened her mouth to say something light and dismissive, but by then she had lost the power of speech. Ewan’s powerful forearms slipped beneath her knees. He scooped her up with barely any effort at all, stepped through the door, and deposited her on the other side.
“Well then,” he said uncertainly, when the door behind them closed, “I guess that that is that.”
“Aye,” Cait whispered shyly, her eyes darting everywhere in the room but the bed as she wondered what happened next.
A charged silence fell between them. It reminded Cait of the moments just in front of an electrical storm. The air felt heavy and charged, as if any moment something was about to snap.
“So…” Ewan said, walking toward the bed. He stared at it pointedly, but didn’t make a move to sit down.
“So,” Cait echoed and held her ground. She didn’t know what her husband expected. She was a virgin after all. Life with the serving staff had curbed her innocence to a degree. She didn’t have any direct experience, but she knew what a man and a woman did-however improbable the action sounded when repeated second hand. Still, staring at the wall in a location just behind Ewan Cameron’s head, Cait was put to mind of a time she’d been in Paris with her mother and looked across the horizon. A chapel was standing on one of the high hills, and there had to be a road to take her there. Staring down into the unfamiliar city streets she lacked even the first idea of how she should begin.
Ewan also appeared uncertain-though she doubted it was for a similar cause. She had listened to too many comely maids and farmer’s girls detail Ewan’s prowess to suspect for even a second that he didn’t know exactly what to do. Still, if he did, what was stopping him?
Ewan cleared his throat, and his fingers tangled once again in the material at the edge of his shirt. “So, about the baby then…”
“The baby…” she echoed dumbly.
“Aye…”Just as if he were approaching a skittish horse, Ewan inched forward. Cait didn’t move-couldn’t move if she were honest, but stood watching him with great, round eyes as she tried to anticipate what would happen next. Would he simply take her with no preliminaries? Was she meant to move first?
“I-” they both started to speak at once, and then both fell silent, and then both burst into a fit of nervous laughter when they realized what they had done.
“Now then, this can’t be too hard,” Ewan said, sounding a little more confident when he’d recovered.
Still wide-eyed, Cait nodded her head.
“We’re…er…meant to be naked,” he continued, almost apologetic.
Cait blurted, “I know!” and then slapped her hands over the front of her mouth in horror at what she said, “I mean…that is…I’d figured that’s how it was.”
“Well, then,” he took a deep breath. His fingers were still teasing the hem of his shirt and, in a single fluid motion he yanked it over his head.
It was the second time that day that Cait was confronted with Ewan’s bare chest, and the second time that day she’d been struck breathless by the sight. There was something so steady, so male about his body that it was impossible to look away. Even a shy, fleeting glance at his broad shoulders and tanned skin was enough to send curious, swirling sparks shooting through her veins.
Ewan studied her expression, reached for his belt, and then must have thought better of his actions, because he nodded his head at Cait. “Your turn,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper.
She swallowed and nodded her head.
Cait had, of course, never undressed for a man, and didn’t know where to start, and so she reached first for her bodice, straining her arms to reach behind her back and loosen the leather lashing.
“Let me,” Ewan offered, after watching her struggle for a moment. Cait shyly nodded her head.
With her eyes turned away from Ewan, she expected her blush to fade, but the opposite was the case. The sight of his body had been replaced by the even more alarming sensation of his fingers skimming down her spine. They moved unhurried to loosen each of her stays and, finally, to strip the bodice from her chest.
Her breasts were still covered. A chemise of plain white wool was beneath the gown, but she still felt alarmingly exposed. Instinctively she crossed her arms across her chest. Then she reminded herself that she was being silly and dropped them to her sides again.
Cait looked to Ewan for a signal, to let her know if it was still her “turn”. Absent any indication, she untied the sash of her skirt. It felt to her feet in a puddle, leaving her in her undergarment again.
Ewan was looking at her body. His stare was disarmingly frank. It felt as though his fingers, and not his eyes, were treading across her skin, and it caused her to shiver.
“You’re cold.”
After such a profound silence, Ewan’s voice came as a shock. Cait jolted and shook her head, but he was already walking toward the fire. Even before he cast on another log, the activated had its desire effect. The sight of Ewan’s bare back-the muscles flexing and straining beneath his skin as he banked the fire-raised Cait’s temperature several degress.
“Well, then. Where were we?” Ewan asked when he returned again to his side. He looked pointedly at Cait’s chemise, which she assumed he wanted her to strip away, but she couldn’t find the nerve to do it herself. “Right,” Ewan finally muttered. He took a step forward, and frowned when Cait’s immediate instinct was to take a step back. “Maybe this would work a little better if we weren’t quite so…formal,” he suggested.
Cait looked up curiously, “Oh? And what did you have in-“ but she never got to answer, because, at that instant, Ewan’s lips descended and covered hers.
This was another moment Cait had imagined-even practiced on the tattered, lumpy pillow on her bed when she’d been a girl. For once, reality exceeded expectation.
Cait had been kissed, several times, and with great vigor, by clansmen not above trifling with servant girls. The experiences had not been uniformly unpleasant, but they had never been like this, Cait thought, her eyes automatically drifting closed at the very first brush of Ewan’s lips. The full, roughened ridges whispered against her own, so lightly that they created the merest hint of friction, but it was enough to send shivers to her very core. Her arms lifted instinctively to his waist. Perhaps encouraged, he made a second pass.
The next time that their lips met, the pressure was still gentle, but more insistent and prolonged. Ewan’s own hands had been hovering over Cait’s skin, but they finally closed around her flesh. The broad palms felt impossible large and hot through the insubstantial covering of her chemise, particularly when they began to move, groping lightly over her bottom and back.
Strictly business…Cait was repeating the words inside her mind, over and over, but the chant became more difficult to maintain when Ewan’s tongue lapped against her lips.
She parted them in surprise. Then, with the firm thrust of the wet muscle into her mouth, the warmth in her body burst into flame. Every inch of her skin was on fire as he stroked and teased her skin.
Cait wondered if it was Ewan’s skill, or simply all the years of empty longing that made her body such ready tinder. She simply couldn’t stop her hands from moving away from the safe resting spot that she had choosen. They stroked down his well-knit shoulders, over his arms, and then covered the rest of his skin. She knew it was indelicate, but she couldn’t contain her curiosity, her need to make out all the contours of his frame. Her hands treaded heavily down his spine, and then his buttocks, and finally groped the well-defined muscles in the backs of his thighs.
He was so powerful-in every sense of the word: A leader of men, a formidable warrior, the natural master of her own desires. She was dizzy with it, drunk on the sensation of being able to touch and sample the body that she had ached for such a very long time. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her to be shy and demure, but her hunger was so very voracious that she wasn’t fully in control.
She felt him flex and twitch beneath her fingers. His own ministrations ceased, and his breathing slowed as if he was waiting to see how much she dared. The thick muscles beneath her fingertips were taut with anticipation as his tongue surged deeper into her mouth, the urgency enough to send her breathless.
Her fingers curled in the fabric of his plaid. The fabric was all askew now-from her wanderings and also an unmistakable bulge that rose in the front. I did that, Cait though, feeling a surge of triumph. She wanted to touch it, and began to slip her hands around, but Ewan suddenly stiffened.
He jerked away. The sudden loss of contact felt like she had missed a step.
“Well, now,” he said, a faint breathlessness the only hint that he’d been affected at all. “Well, I think that should do.” He turned toward the bed and gestured toward it. “Shall we?”
He had to get control. Ewan caught his breath, releasing it very slowly, forcibly trying to cool the passion that had surged so unexpectedly in his veins. He didn’t understand how things had escalated so quickly. One minute he’d been kissing her, and the next…
He would restrain himself, Ewan vowed. It was quite one thing to tumble with the crofter’s daughters in conveniently loCaited stacks of hay-and quite something else to bed one’s wife. He had a sense that the occasion required a bit more dignity-although, he wasn’t certain how, he knew that did not included jumping on the woman as though she were a mare in heat.
Cait certainly hadn’t acted like she minded; the little thought taunted him as he walked toward the bed. Cait hadn’t acted at all shocked by his reaction to their kissing. In fact, she had answered back with a shocking amount of enthusiasm and skill. Where had she learnt to be so…He thought jealously for the word…passionate? She’d never mentioned any other young man in the castle, and he’d never heard whisperings to besmirch her reputation, but perhaps he didn’t know her as well as he thought?
They had reached the bed. Ewan met her expectant gaze. That might have been a miscalculation. The sight of her flushed cheeks and shining eyes made the flesh between his legs begin to throb. He was so hard that it almost hurt and wasn’t inclined to wait much longer for release. He glanced meaningfully at the mattress, inviting her to lie down.
She did so, and then he joined her, settling his body between her legs. She was still wearing the chemise, but nothing more, so that he could feel the soft contours of her exquisite body pressing back at him through the cloth.
Control, Ewan thought, surprised that he could think above the thundering of his heart. He was more than a little embarrassed by his reaction. He’d never been so awkward in making love to a woman-an act he’d completed with relish at least a thousand times before. Even the very first time there had been no hesitation. His body had told him what to do-and he had followed the advice to mutual delight.
His body certainly wasn’t the problem now, Ewan mused, fighting the urge to groan when Cait shifted against him and another bolt of longing shot through his flesh. He wanted her so badly it hurt. There was something else. Loyalty? Friendship? He’d known Cait for so very long. It would be a lie to claim he’d never thought of bedding her before-but he hadn’t ever expected it to come true. Now that he had, he was torn between conflicting desires: the first to ravish her and slake her own need, the second to keep his needs in check and honor the bargain they had.
For the time being, the latter seemed the more prudent course. He steeled himself again, and then inched the fabric of Cait’s underdress up until it bunched at her waist.
He didn’t dare to look, but he could feel her shapely legs. It was enough to cause his self-control to waver, and so he stopped for a moment to breathe and to steady his hands.
He didn’t dare insult Cait with the question, but he wondered if she’d been with a man. He didn’t know if he could manage being gentle. It was taking all of the energy he had just to manage “slow”.
“This will only take a minute,” he announced, nonsensically (and humorously, if they’d been in the mood for jokes) before spreading her legs apart. He settled into the cradle between then, and then rocked forward, pressing the head of his cock ever-so-slightly into her sheath.
Cait moaned softly as he sank forward and the sound echoed deep inside his flesh. It triggered an almost primal reaction, urging him to pound forward in a single stroke and claim her for his own, but he was still clinging to a slender tendril of self-posession. She was already wet and ready. Even without any preparations, her sheath was slick and hot with welcome and he could feel the swollen nub of her clit brushing against his sex.
She was so exquisitely tight. Ewan inched forward as slowly as he could manage, unsurprised when he felt the barrier blocking his way. He muttered a curse under his breath, and then twined a hand into Cait’s hair and tilted her ear so that she could hear.
”It will sting a bit,” he warned her. It would be worse if he went slowly, and so he didn’t, coiling his body, and then ramming home.
A very bad word slipped from his lips in reacting to the very good feeling he experienced when he was finally, completely, buried in her flesh. He’d never felt anything more exquisite-like tight, wet velvet grasping around his cock. “I’m sorry,” he panted in apology-for his ungentlemanly speech and for the jolt of pain that he saw flash in Cait’s fine green eyes. “God, I’m-“
“Move!” Cait panted back, disregarding the apology, “Oh, Ewan-move.”
The desperate plea was all he needed to spur his body into action. He reared back, plunged forward, and then was lost completely when Cait started to move as well.
It was so good. Ewan had never imagined that Cait’s tiny little body was capable of such towering delights. They moved together so perfectly, easily finding a rhythm that pleased them both.
Ewan kept one eye open, watching Cait’s face as they worked, gratified by the way that her lips hung open, her neck curled back into the billow while her breath released in ragged puffs. He was under no obligation to please her. Their bargain had not specified so much, but he felt honor bound to reciproCaite the exquisite sensations that she was giving him. She seemed to like things well enough, and so he kept driving forward, harder and faster until his muscles began to quake. A terrible pressure had built inside his chest, making it difficult to take a breath. He was so terribly close.
He wanted Cait to join him, he realized a second too late. He slipped a hand between their bodies, hoping that an added touch of friction would send her home, but there wasn’t any time.
“Ewan!” she moaned, and the sound of her voice, thick and drugged with pleasure, was the final push that sent him over the edge. He spilled inside her, while unbelievable pleasure seared through his veins.
It was several seconds before he could move again, but his first sensation, after the last cracklings of pleasure had died away, was of regret. He hadn’t brought Cait to a peak of her own…but there was
time for that yet, he thought sleepily, time enough for both of them to explore one another’s bodies to the utmost. Ewan didn’t know where the final thought had come from, but he was getting tired of second guessing his motivations. Perhaps Cait wouldn’t mind a tad bit less respect as long as there were other compensations? After all, it might take quite a while until there was a child.
“Ewan?” Cait’s tiny voice was muffled beneath his flesh.
“Hmmm?” he called drowsily back, pleased that she wasn’t afraid to address him.
“You’re crushing me.”
“Oh!” he rolled onto his side as if he’d been scalded, and then sheepishly met her gaze. “Sorry, I…” was a bit overwhelmed for a moment, he started to say, but didn’t, especially when Cait started wriggling out of the bed.
“Cait?” he asked anxiously, Caitching her wrist just as she was sliding a knee over the edge of the mattress. “Is something wrong?”
“Don’t be silly!” she responded.
“Did I hurt you?”
Cait blushed furiously. “Heavens, no! That was…” she scrunched her nose as she searched for an appropriate description. “nice.”
“Nice?” Ewan echoed, feeling a stab to his pride. He knew that the encounter hadn’t been quite up to his typical standards, but he’d been handicapped by unfair rules! He was trying to be polite!
His indignance must have shown on his face, because Cait cocked a brow, “Nice,” she said again, and then added in appeasement, “Very pleasant. I have to go.”
“You have to go?” Ewan said, sitting up as Cait started to climb out of bed. She didn’t look back over her shoulder as she padded to the far end of the room and picked up her skirt and bodice. “Go where?”
“To work,” Cait answered simply as her mind raced through all the tasks she had neglected to perform that day. There was the wash she’d left hanging in the sun, mending to do, stairs to scrub-and now she’d need to change Ewan’s sheets.
A Year and a Day Page 3