by Tarah Scott
“What? Have you glimpsed her here?”
She shook her head. “No, not here.”
“You saw her somewhere other than the yew grove?” he demanded.
Jessica glanced at the rear window, where rain began to patter against the glass. “I didn’t realize the connection until now. But it must have been her, for I have never seen a ghost before and it’s strange to have seen two different ghosts in a week. I cannot be certain, of course, for I did not see her as clearly as when she was with you. I only saw a shimmering mist in the shape of a woman. It happened in Gledstone’s library. I stood on a ladder, looking for a book on the care of geese—”
“Geese?” He arched a brow.
“Barnacle geese. They are quite rare, you know. I saw some in the river and they looked scrawny, so I wanted to—”
“Rescue them?” His eyes twinkled.
“Well, yes.” She still wanted to help them. “I meant to take them some food—once I discovered what they’d eat. But just as I found the volume I’d sought, this odd mist caught my eye. When it started to whirl into a woman’s shape, I was startled and slipped off the ladder.”
“Ahhh…” Her new husband stepped closer and slid his arms around her. “That is how you bruised your face?”
“I hit my head on the desk when I fell.”
“You make it a habit of falling?”
“Not usually.” She bit back a smile. “Well, maybe now and then. But anyway…” She had a hard time thinking with his arms about her, his face so close to hers. “I do think the shimmery mist could have been your green lady.”
“I am sure it was.” He dropped a kiss to her brow. “I am also more sure than ever that you and I were meant to meet in the yew grove. That you are the only bride I could possibly have married.”
“You are being gallant. You cannot know that at all.”
“Ah, but I can.”
“How?”
“Because of Baldain’s green lady, lass. She is a family tradition since the days of Culloden and she only shows herself at monumental times. Such as births or deaths, when a Chalmers is to—”
“Marry?” Jessica spoke the word with wonder.
“Aye, sweet.” He drew her close. “Historically, our green lady only appears to family members. She is as attached to us as she is to this ground. For her to have shown herself to you not once, but twice…” He leaned back and waited for her to finish.
“She recognized me as your future wife.”
“I believe so.”
“Oh, my.” Jessica thought her heart would burst.
“She came to me the night before Stirling arrived with his marriage proposal. At the time, I thought she’d appeared for another reason.”
Fear stabbed and she blurted, “That you were dying?” before she realized her reaction was silly.
“Not me.” He looked into the distance. “I feared Baldain House was about to die.”
“Oh.” Jessica understood.
He turned back to her. “Dinnae let it trouble you, especially not tonight. I am hale and fit, able to give you lots of fine, strapping sons.” He framed her face with his palms and looked at her, the wonderful twinkle again in his eyes. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I would,” she surprised herself by saying. She did want his children, could see them running through Baldain’s restored gardens, perhaps feeding too-skinny barnacle geese along the riverbank. “But what about daughters?” She had to ask. “My family tends to have girls.”
“The more, the merrier.” He swept her up into his arms and strode from the room and into the hallway. “I have only one request.”
“Anything.”
“Our daughters must take after you.”
Chapter Six
“I will no’ let you fall.”
Jessica almost laughed as Patrick took the last few stairs to the second floor, for he held her so tightly that she suspected he could carry her to the top of Ben Nevis and not drop her. She smiled up at him as he strode along a dimly-lit corridor, making for what she knew was the front of the house. A location that would look out over the river and the town. “I am already fallen,” she announced as he opened the door and entered a modestly furnished bedchamber lit by a low burning fire and one lamp.
The scent of freshly-washed linens mingled with the tantalizing aroma of roasted meat. Jessica caught sight of a table with covered silver dishes and an array of crystal bowls containing custards, a large cake, and a platter of shortbread.
When he set her on her feet near the hearth, she said, “I am not in need of any particular caution tonight—”
He paused in reaching for his cravat. His expression softened and he tugged the knot loose. “Nae bother, lass. In truth, I have never taken a maid’s innocence and I have no wish to hurt you.”
Jessica stared at him. “You think I meant…” She laughed. “Oh no, I am untouched.”
He blinked. “Aye, well. Then I misunderstood.” He tossed his cravat onto a chair. “Never fear, I will take extra care with you.”
“I am not worried.” She drew off her coat and dropped it beside his cravat. “You misunderstand.” She turned, giving an open invitation to undo her gown’s many teeny buttons. “I meant I am not in need of particular caution or even seduction.” He began unfastening the buttons. “I have already fallen in love with you. I believe I did so in the yew grove.”
He drew a sharp breath.
She quickly added, “I do not expect you to feel the same. But I am sure that is what happened to me. I know such things go on.”
“Is that right?” He shifted and warm lips pressed the side of her neck. “How do you know?” he murmured against her skin.
She shivered. “It is a family tradition. My parents fell in love the night they met. They attended a ball at a huge estate on the Firth of Forth outside of Edinburgh. My mother was hiding in the bushes, trying to avoid a suitor she considered pesky. Unfortunately, the shrubbery edged a pond and fountain.”
“So?” He neared the last buttons and his knuckles brushed the sensitive flesh alongside her spine.
“My father came along the path first and he spied my mother’s shoe peeking out of the bushes.” Jessica smiled to recall the tale. “When he parted the branches to see who hid there, my mother leapt backwards and toppled into the pond.”
Patrick laughed. “I suppose he rescued her?”
“He did.”
“And you take after her?”
“So some say. Indeed, there is a similar tale about an ancestress who lived several centuries ago. She—”
“She can wait till later, sweet.” He turned her to face him, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “This night is about you.”
Jessica caught sight of rose petals and sprigs of heather decorating the table. She clasped a hand to her breast. “Was it your idea to sprinkle rose petals and sprigs of heather on the tablecloth?”
To her surprise, color bloomed on his face. “Nae. That will have been Cobbs’ doing. Or perhaps Maggie’s idea. She’s the lass who brought the food from the Golden Hart, the nearest inn and tavern. I wouldn’t have—” He broke off, looking more embarrassed than before. “I mean, had I known I’d be marrying you…”
“And you did.” Jessica lifted onto her toes and kissed him. “Nothing else matters.”
“Shall we dine now? I would no’ want to rush you.”
Jessica shook her head. “I am not hungry.” Except for kisses.
Despite the tremble in her fingers, she pushed the sleeves of her gown down her arms and let the dress pool at her feet. She stood before him in her petticoat. His gaze heated and something stirred inside her. Perhaps this was the part of her that hurtled headlong into predicaments. She’d always wondered if she and her mother shared a voracious need that demanded attention, fulfillment.
She pulled two pins from her hair. “My braids are still woven with seed pearls and ribbons. Oh, dear, what shall I do?”
/> “This is a serious matter.” He grasped the braids and, in less than an eye-blink, her hair tumbled free, the resin-kissed curls spilling around her shoulders and down her back. “That is much better.” He scooped up handfuls of her hair, buried his face in the strands, and inhaled deeply. When he looked up again, he smiled. “Lady Jessica and a hint of yew. I will never gain enough of such headiness.”
He shrugged out of his coat, then shed his shirt and breeches so fast that Jessica almost grew dizzy watching him. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his manhood. Heaven help her, she had no idea that the male organ was so large. Jessica swallowed and forced her attention to his face. She startled to find he’d been watching her.
“Shall I take off my petticoat?” she asked.
Patrick stepped close to her. “If you wish,” he said in a low voice.
She slid the sleeves off her arms and stepped out of the undergarment.
He pulled her against him and her head spun when their bodies contacted. His mouth claimed hers. She’d had no idea a man could kiss a woman like this. His tongue touched her mouth and she gasped. He broke the kiss, swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed. Jessica kept her gaze on his face as he lowered her onto the heather-scented sheets, then stretched out on his side next to her.
“Are you afraid, lass?”
She frowned. “Of course not. Why should I be?” But her heart beat furiously.
He smiled gently. “Good.” He brushed his lips against hers and she gasped when his warm hand cupped her breast. A thrill of wondrous female joy shot through her when his hard and proud manhood nudged her thigh.
With a sigh, he drew back from the kiss and stared down at her.
“You desire me,” she said, her heart thundering.
“More than I have ever wanted a woman in my life.”
“Even though we just met?” She trailed her fingers through his chest hair.
“Even though we just married,” he amended, the twinkle in his eyes delighting her.
“You do not mind that I might get into trouble now and then?”
“As long as I am the man to rescue you.” He kissed her again, a wickedly sensual open-mouthed melding of tongue, breath, and what she recognized as a fire that burned to be slaked. He slid kisses along her jaw to her ear. The tickle sent a shiver along her flesh and tightened the juncture between her legs.
Jessica grasped his forearm and thrilled at the play of muscle beneath her fingers. She had no idea touching a man could be so exciting. She wanted to touch more of him…all of him. Did he feel the same way about her? Desire coiled in her belly and she couldn’t stop herself from arching her breast into his hand. He groaned. She liked the way the sound vibrated against her neck. He nipped at her ear, then her jaw line, then her neck. She giggled at the tickle. Then she stopped giggling when he moved to the hollow in her throat.
Patrick shifted onto her. His weight pressed her into the mattress in a way that made her want to hug him even closer. He drew back. His manhood slid along her belly. Her mind muddled. What was he doing to her? He kissed her chest—then her breast! She didn’t know men and women did this. Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck. The edge of her palm brushed the edges of his nape and she speared her fingers into his hair. The thick locks were soft like Patches’ thick fur.
He lifted his head and looked at her. “You are beautiful.”
Heat crept up her face. “Are you ready for me to become your wife?”
He gave a hoarse laugh that made her stomach do a somersault. “Aye, lass. I am more than ready.” He gently thrust his hips and she breathed an ‘Oh,’ as his manhood slid along her thigh. “Can you not tell?” he asked in a husky voice.
She swallowed. “I suppose so. When we are finished, we can spend the rest of the night kissing and kissing.” She would never get enough of his kisses. She doubted she could ever live without them. God’s mercy on her if the rest of the things they’d did this night delighted her as much.
“Are you certain you are ready?” he asked. His voice sounded different. Deeper and roughened.
“I am your wife.”
“God save me.” Patrick reached down and fitted his manhood to her opening. “You will be the end of me.”
When he kissed her again, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth and she became aware of his manhood pushing into her. She started to ask what came next, when he thrust forward. A sharp pinch ripped through her. She drew a quick breath, then the pain vanished. Slowly, he pulled back, then thrust forward and back again. The strangeness gave way to a pleasurable, gliding rhythm. Jessica thought he would weary, but he continued and she was startled at the pleasure that built somewhere deep inside her. He didn’t seem to tire, but moved in and out without falter.
Jessica tightened her arms about his neck and thrilled when he shoved his hands beneath her and returned her hug. He nuzzled her neck, and when he kissed the sensitive flesh, pleasure swept through her.
Jessica cried out in surprise, then, at Patrick’s deep groan. He thrust harder and she arched her hips to meet his thrusts. Pleasure caused her stomach muscles to spasm, and this time he stiffened. Jessica realized he must have experienced the same pleasure she did and elation made her want to cry.
The Marriage Maker had done his job well. Patrick would make her the best-ever husband. He had already delighted her beyond her wildest expectations. And she would work hard to make him just as happy. A task that would never be difficult for Patrick and Baldain House needed her.
But all that could wait. For now, she wanted only one thing…
To spend the rest of the night in her husband’s arms.
***
A week later, a discreet knock at Patrick’s bedroom door announced Cobbs’ usual sunrise delivery of a breakfast tray. Patrick knew he would leave it before the door, not daring to enter, and the tray would hold a pot of strong tea, a small jug of milk, fresh-baked scones, a few thick slabs of fruit bread, a basket of oat cakes, and cheese. As every morning for the past seven days, Patrick and his bride would ignore the food until noon or beyond. He and his wife had better things to do than eat.
“Is it time for breakfast?” Jessica pushed up on her elbows, her kiss-swollen lips curving into a smile.
“Aye, it is that time.” Patrick’s cock, already morning-hardened, went harder. “I am famished.”
“I can help…” Jessica lay her head on his chest and drew lazy circles on him. “You tickled me half the night. It is only fair I tease you for a while.”
He flipped her onto her back and covered her body with his. “Is that what you call what we did?”
She stared up at him, eyes bright with wicked delight. “What would you call it?”
“Satisfying my wife.”
He slid downward, kissing his way along her jaw, neck, chest…breasts, such lovely breasts. Patrick gave the pink buds each a moment of special attention before continuing his downward journey. When he reached her abdomen, he turned his attention to her right thigh and kissed the inner flesh.
“Patrick,” she said in the breathy voice that made him want to drive his cock deep inside her.
He kissed the other perfect thigh and detected a tremble. Gently, he spread her legs and kissed that part she loved having kissed.
“Patrick.” She tugged his hair.
“You did say you loved my kisses,” he murmured.
Again and again, he kissed her—and circled his tongue over that spot until she writhed beneath him. She clutched his shoulders, her entire body tense as she cried out his name. At last, he pressed almost chaste kisses to the erotic pleasure point, then stretched out beside her as she rolled against him.
“You will kill me,” she said into his chest. “I am sure a woman can die of such intense pleasure.”
“Then we shall go together,” he said.
“That would solve everything, I suppose.” Laughter filled her voice.
She glanced at the closed door, then over to the windows where the gl
ass panes glowed in the soft gray light of another rainy Inverness morning. They were well on the way to spending another full day naked, sweaty, and deliriously happy.
“We cannot go on like this.” She looked back at him and smoothed her fingers along his hard-muscled arm. “Any day now, Papa will send a full household staff and a troop of gardeners.”
“Aye, well.” Patrick leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “There is always the night.”
“I am serious.” Jessica swatted his arm. “Besides, Cobbs could use help. He should not do everything.”
“There we agree.” He fell silent for a long moment. “I cannae tell you how glad I am that he will be able to tread a bit more slowly. He is a good man.”
“I know.” Jessica said. “I like him.”
“He thinks the sun rises and sets on you. By the way, I am still waiting to hear about your wild and wicked ancestress.” He slanted a look at her. “Was she as insatiable as you?”
Jessica laughed. “I have no idea. Perhaps. The story tells of how she won her husband—how she stole him away from another.”
Patrick’s brow arced. “A wicked woman, indeed. But I am sure the man didn’t complain.”
“Likely not.” Jessica smiled, remembering the tale. “He was considering prospective wives, or so the legend goes. His favorite was a great beauty, but she hated dogs. My g-g-g-g-great grandfather was a huge dog lover, as was my ancestress, the woman who won him.
“One day, my ancestress came upon the pair sitting on a plaid and enjoying a romantic picnic on the shore of Loch Ness. My ancestress had six of her father’s favorite hounds with her and when she neared the couple, she urged them to bound ahead and greet the man, who they knew.”
“And the woman was terrified?”
“Nae.” Jessica shook her head. “She was livid. She screeched at my ancestress, cursed and flailed at the dogs – and at my g-g-g-g-great grandfather who, family legend claims, began to laugh.”
“And so he married your dog-loving ancestress?”
“He did.” Jessica nodded as Patrick rose and crossed the room to pour two cups of Rhenish wine. “They had fifteen children,” she said, when he returned and handed her a cup.