Connie C. Scharon - Highland Legends 02
Page 6
It was the longest kiss she had ever experienced and he showed no sign of stopping his assault on her senses, yet his hands only ran through her thick hair and held her head to his for the unending kiss. What was he doing to her?
Her breath became more rapid as his tender attack released a glowing feeling deep within her. The sensation rose like a distant memory from a happier past, back before she married Frazer. The halcyon days before she knew what men expected in the marriage bed, the days when she and Frazer had posed for their wedding portrait. She had been so happy then.
Years of pain washed away and she found herself answering Liam's infinite kiss. She heard him express a groan from deep in his throat when she flicked her tongue into the tortuous sweetness of his mouth.
He showed no sign of moving on now he had elicited the desired response; rather he savored her for what seemed like hours. Finally, he lifted her onto his lap and ran his strong hand across her breasts.
It was her turn to gasp with the unexpected rush of feeling that shot over her. His lightest touch sent fire to a place it had never been before—a longing for things she thought could only be painful. The way he made her feel sent the old panic back to her head. He continued feeding on her mouth, testing the warm well and inviting her tiniest response.
Ever so slowly, his hand moved to the laces of her gown. Her mind fought to control the fear. He was being gentle. Perhaps he would continue. Would he allow her to call halt to his quest? No, she was his wife and she knew exactly what that meant. She must try to please him and hope he wouldn't bother her often.
Just when she thought she would scream if her body kept betraying her, his lips released hers and moved slowly down her neck to her heaving bosom. Somehow, the bodice of her gown was open to receive his hungry caresses. He feasted on the ripeness of her—she felt his tongue—his lips. Devon gasped as he found each rosy crest and teased it to a hardened response, tasting—suckling. She felt as if she was dying and being born all at the same time.
"Liam," she whispered urgently.
He stood lifting her easily and setting her feet on the floor. With a sharp intake of breath, he moved his hands to push the gown off her shoulders. It slipped away and he pulled her out of it, freeing her from all remaining constraints one by one. His hands were steady—gentle. Devon was motionless; still and naked except for her veiled head. She should have been cold, but she wasn't. Liam's hot gaze sent fire over her exposed flesh.
"Devon," he breathed, his eyes sweeping over her hungrily.
He pulled her to him and then his hand moved to remove the veil. It was as if a bucket of ice water hit her. "No," she cried. His hand moved away immediately, but traced down to run freely over her bare buttocks. "No… please," she whimpered.
Liam heard her as surely as he felt her body grow rigid, but he didn't want to stop—not now. Disregarding her plea, he explored her perfect flesh with steady strokes. She shook and he lowered his lips to find hers beneath the veil. He was desperate to drive away her fear—to have her hot and willing, but he was losing her—losing her to some ancient fear. He could feel the terror rising within her.
"Zounds," he muttered, stopping his tender assault.
"I'm sorry, Milord," Devon sobbed. "I'm sorry I have displeased you." She crumpled to the floor, her body wracked with heartrending sobs.
Liam knelt beside her. She was a sorry sight. Her veiled head bobbing and her ripe naked form still flushed from passion's flame. He reached out to stroke her hair and she cringed away from him. He didn't withdraw his hand, but softly stroked her hair. "Dinna cry, love," he whispered.
"I'm sorry, Milord… Liam. If you'll give me a moment to compose myself, I'll be at your disposal," she said through her tears.
"No love, we're finished for tonight. You need more time to be comfortable with me. I wouldna take you now knowing you fear my touch." He sighed, continuing to stroke her wondrous mane through the silky veil.
Her sobs stopped and she raised her head. "You would grant me a reprieve from our marriage bed?" she asked incredulously. "Oh thank you, Liam."
He groaned. "Devon, I do plan to take you to my bed, but I would have you willing, not frightened and cowering."
"I shall try to reach that point. 'Tis the least you could expect from your wife," she said. "I'm truly sorry I've been such a disappointment. Would you like me to call Elspeth for you?"
"You are my wife. I want no other."
"But… it may take me some time to…."
"Then I shall wait," he assured her. "The small taste of you I received only makes me hunger for you all the more." Devon started to say something, but he hushed her with his hand. "It will just take time. I am a patient man."
"You're not angry, Milord… Liam," she corrected.
"No love; now let me help you to your chamber." He pulled her gently to her feet glancing appreciatively at her perfect body. She turned from his perusal and he saw a thin red scar running up her back towards her neck. Her thick, auburn hair obscured the extent of it as it disappeared beneath her veil.
He put his arm around her and walked her to the small chamber, unable to keep his eyes from traveling to her full breasts that seemed to push forward in a teasing pout. His eyes dropped lower to the crisp, red hair at the crux of her womanhood. Devon stopped walking and stood unmoving under his lustful gaze. She drew in her breath and her bosom rose and fell in something akin to perfection, the blush from his touch still coloring her porcelain skin.
He reached over and ran his hand tenderly down her. "I'll teach you to come to me in joy," he promised. Leaning down, he let his lips brush hers through the filmy covering. "Get some sleep now." She started to turn from him. "Devon." Slowly she faced him again, uncertainty emanating from her slender form.
"Aye." Her voice quavered.
Liam drew his breath in sharply. "The extent of intimacy we share shall remain our secret. I dinna want to give Bryce any reason to protest our marriage. As far as everyone else is concerned we have consummated our vows."
"I'm grateful for your benevolence," she replied in a whisper.
"Good night," he said softly. With that, he forced himself to close the door, separate her from him, lest he change his mind, and attack her like a rutting stag. God she was sweet! He was heady with the promise of what was to be when he freed her from her fears.
Liam knew a tortured sleep his mind alive with dreams of lust and sadness. First Devon's image came to him offering her body for his pleasure. As soon as he drew her near, he heard a woman crying. In his dream, he would raise his head from the delight of Devon's sweet flesh to gaze upon Sarah watching them. His eyes met Sarah's and she resumed her tears until he had to leave his wife to go to her, but when he reached out his arms to comfort Sarah, a tall figure appeared out of the mist and snatched her from his grasp.
Waking in a sweat, Liam lay there for a minute before he heard the soft sobs. He rose from the bed and entered the small room. It was black as pitch and he could barely make out the bed.
"Devon," he whispered. The crying became like a moan. "Devon," he repeated, moving to her bed.
Reaching out in the blackness, he found her and pulled her to his naked chest. "Please dinna hurt me," she murmured. "I'll try to please you."
Her hands ran over his chest. His arms encircled her and she snuggled against his shoulder. The wretched veil was not upon her head and his hands ran over her searching for an image in the darkness. "Devon," he breathed soft against her hair.
He found her mouth and locked her in a passionate kiss, devouring her willing mouth with his. "Devon, I want you so badly," he murmured huskily.
She cried out and he wrapped his arms tighter around her burying her head in his chest. She tossed about in a frenzied movement, but his gentle caresses succeeded in soothing her. "Easy now, love."
"Please dinna hurt me again," she cried. "Please Frazer; I'll try to do better."
A knot congealed in Liam's stomach as he fought the bile that threatened t
o rise in his throat. Her bastard husband had tortured her somehow, destroyed her with his abuse. Liam clutched her to his chest until she settled and her breath rose and fell in the evenness of sleep. Gently he slipped her back beneath her covers and kissed her forehead, wondering if she would remember his comfort in the morning. He thought not and as much as he hated to, he had to leave her in privacy before the morning light showed him what she was not ready to share. Wearily he sought the comfort of his lonely bed.
Chapter Six
Devon pushed open the door gingerly wondering if Liam was still in his chamber. She had slept the sleep of the dead, not stirring until almost noon, and then dressing in a stunning, blue frock Moira had laid out for her. A simple matching veil barely seemed to do the job intended. She must remember to scold Moira. The coverings were becoming more and more flimsy, an open invitation to Liam's curiosity.
The door creaked on its hinges when it opened. Devon stood still and peered into the chamber. The sound of heavy breathing came from the bed. She heard the midday chimes from the clock tower. It was afternoon and he slept. Perhaps she had underestimated his sloth. He seemed to be a man of action and vigor, yet he lay abed this late. She tiptoed past the curtained bed.
There was a movement behind the drape. Devon froze in place as a muscular arm reached from an opening in the curtain and pulled her into the privacy of the master's bed.
Her breath came short as she gawked at the naked body of her husband, his bronzed muscles defined even in repose. Liam snorted. "Devon, why did you not wake me?" He acted as if he lay before her fully clothed. She sucked in her breath. "I didna mean to frighten you. I've spent too many years being wary. I thought someone was sneaking up on me." He laughed. "'Twas you who told me to be careful."
It struck Devon her veil concealed the blush that now spread across her face. He knew she had been married before. Why would he think her embarrassed by his display—and what a display. His muscular chest had dark hair that narrowed as it dropped below his waist. He lay next to her on his side, one knee propped up so that his male member faced her.
Liam moved his hand to trace the line of her face beneath the veil. Devon was oblivious. She sat entranced in a frigid fear. He was much bigger than Frazer was. She remembered the pain of relations with her first husband and shuddered to think what she would have to suffer when Liam got over his benevolence and took her to his bed. Eventually she noticed he was grinning at her. Could he see where her eyes wandered?
She struggled to regain her wits so she could break the silence with some sensible comment. "I didna mean to disturb you," she murmured, but it came out breathless, as breathless as she felt.
"You didna disturb me." Taking her hand, he guided it to the center of his chest. She could feel his heart thundering beneath her palm. "Dinna be afraid to touch me, Devon," he ordered, or at least it seemed like an order to her, because as he said it he moved her hand ever downward until it grazed the growing firmness of his maleness.
"Oh!" She gasped and jerked her hand away. He watched her like a wolf studying its prey. "Please Milord, I… I'm not ready for such intimacy."
He sighed and gave her a gentle smile. "Intimacy sometimes needs to come in stages. Lose your fear of my body; lose your fear of me."
"Will you persist in this harassment every day?" she asked, bristling under his smirk. "I've been very clear about my feelings and you have granted me time. Will you challenge our agreement at every turn?" She leaned back against the head of the bed shocked by her own testy retort.
Liam seemed totally relaxed. He didn't move to strike her for her insolence. He just lay there naked with that infernal smile on his face. "I'm sorry, Milord. Have I made you angry with my careless tongue?"
Liam took her hand and kissed it tenderly. "The only thing that disturbs me is your inability to call me by my given name," he said. "But I suppose it may take some time."
"You're not angry about my foul temper?"
He shrugged. "Temper? All you did was express the frustration you were feeling. What is wrong with that?"
"Is this some kind of a trick? You'll get me to say more before you administer my punishment."
Liam's face grew stone cold and he drew her to him so she could feel his nakedness right through her clothes. "What did that bastard do to you? Why do you fear a simple conversation?"
"Liam… please, I canna talk about Frazer. He was just trying to teach me to be a good wife… that's all."
"God's teeth!" He sat bolt upright in bed. She started to move away, but he grasped both of her hands and led them in an exploration of his body. She released a strangled sob from beneath the veil as she touched his most intimate parts, but Liam continued, finally bringing her hands to rest on his powerful chest and holding them there.
"My hands will never hurt you," he told her. "No part of my body will ever hurt you. Pleasure you mayhaps, in time, but never harm you. As God is my witness, I swear this to you. Dinna be afraid. I'm not Frazer Forbes. I would give my life to protect you." As he finished his vow, he brought her hands to his lips caressing each of them gently before he released them.
Devon leaned back on the headboard and closed her eyes. "Why?" she asked tearfully.
"Why what?"
"Why would you give your life to protect me?" She peered at him curiously.
He gave her a smile. "'Tis simple, love. Because you're mine and I cherish and protect what belongs to me." He leaned over and kissed her veiled head. "Try to suffer my affections, for in truth, I have trouble keeping my hands from you. By the same token, I wilna force you to my bed until I'm sure you're ready." He leaned across her and pulled the bed curtain open wider. "Wait while I dress. The morning after our wedding, it is important for us to appear happy together. We'll give Bryce no opening for nasty rumors."
Devon smiled beneath her covering. His casual nudity was disconcerting, but she found herself watching him dress. Any woman would find him desirable. Why did he choose to saddle himself with a wife who might never be able to give him what he wanted? A wave of guilt swept her. She should tell Liam about the baby. If he knew she might be unable to provide him with an heir, he might change his mind about seeking his pleasures elsewhere. She didn't know why, but she found the thought disturbing.
***
The new Laird of Dunsmore Heath walked into the great hall with Devon hanging on his arm. "So I asked Archie to watch over my lances before the joust," Liam continued his ramblings about preparing for the contest.
"But Liam, Archie is blind."
"Ah, but he's a good listener. He told me he could hear a mouse break wind."
Devon laughed out loud. The musical sound made her father look up in disbelief. It even sounded good to her.
"Good morning," Liam said.
"'Tis afternoon." Malcolm grinned. "Sit." He motioned for the serving wench to bring more food while they seated themselves at the table.
"Did you two just get up?"
"'Tis Devon's fault," Liam quipped. "She didna want to wake me. Apparently I was worn out." He rolled his eyes and directed a devilish smirk at Devon.
The servant arrived with a plate of fresh baked bread and two trenchers of hot lamb stew. Suddenly hungry, Devon practiced her newly acquired technique of eating with her veil in place as she listened to the conversation between her father and her husband.
There was a lot of discussion about Bryce's inheritance of one-tenth the estate, but Devon was too distracted to listen. Liam made a point of caressing her with his hand, or his arm, or his burning gaze, at every opportunity. He acted as if it were the most natural thing to stroke her affectionately while he spoke.
She wondered why she didn't feel affronted by this deception. Instead, it coiled around her like protective armor. He was defending her from the gossip and speculation that would follow her if people knew they had not consummated their vows. Liam was a noble man and she determined she should try to be a good wife to him, no matter how painful it turned out to be.
"Garyth and I have already met," Liam said.
Malcolm looked back and forth between them. "When?"
"I introduced them," Devon cut in hurriedly. She grabbed Liam's shoulder and ran her hand down his arm. "Did I not, Liam?"
Liam looked at her with interest. She obviously didn't want Malcolm to know about the incident with Garyth. Why? "Aye, 'twas the night before the tournament."
"But Garyth was on guard duty."
"Aye, so. Devon and I met him when we walked in the courtyard."
Devon squeezed his arm in a silent thank you. Liam noted the look of despair Garyth shot at her. Why did Malcolm press this point with such interest? Was Garyth more than a friend to Devon? The thought made Liam crazy with jealousy, but he masked his feelings cordially receiving congratulations from all of the clansmen.
"I had hoped to show you some of your new holdings, but you and my daughter have chosen to stay abed so long I dinna know if there's enough light left to accomplish the task." Liam grinned at Malcolm's thinly disguised bragging on the success of the match.
Stretching lazily he wrapped his arm around Devon and planted a soft kiss on her veiled face, then stroked her lovely auburn tresses. "You're lucky I show myself at all on the day after my wedding," he said. "I'd like to look over the property, but only if my dear wife can bear my absence." He watched Garyth turn his head away in disgust and then looked askance at Devon. "Would you accompany me?"