“I really wish for my husband to like me.”
“I imagine the laird does. I witnessed that kiss. I think he likes you.” She gushed with delight like a smitten woman.
“According to my maid, it is quite easy to inflame a man’s desire, quite another to capture his interest. I need a plan. Aye, a plan.” She took her horn comb from Moira and parted her hair into three sections. “I do so wish to have peace, which might not be so easy with my husband. He does seem determined to have his own way.” Moira gasped. “Please forgive me. I didn’t think you heard that. It was wrong—”
“You weren’t wrong.” Ailsa twisted her torso toward the doorway and saw her husband filling the threshold. “I am determined to have my way. It’s the only way to guarantee peace.”
Peace for him but not her.
He snatched the plaid from the bed and draped it over Ailsa’s shoulders, tucking it around her body until it swaddled her. About to shrug it off, Duncan fixed her with a stern look, freezing her. He motioned three burly men to remove the tub. After a quick curtsy, Moira darted from the room behind the men.
Ailsa rose to her feet and kept her head down. The red and blue plaid pooled around her feet. “I meant no insult.”
“It would take a lot more than that.”
“I was drying my hair otherwise I might become ill. It’s chilled in here.” The chamber was actually sweltering. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. Black Duncan appeared at ease, not bothered by the tension clogging the air. Dozens of misgivings of what awaited raced through her mind but not once did fear of her husband number among her qualms. At this moment, Ailsa wasn’t able to comprehend why she hadn’t run from him. She certainly wanted him to stay.
* * * *
Duncan stepped toward her. She stepped back. Firelight revealed her shapely legs beneath her shift, shadowing the juncture of her legs. Soon, those limbs would wrap around him. “I have to braid my hair or come morning, it resembles a sheep’s fleece.”
He took another stepped forward. She stepped back. He put one foot out. She put one behind her.
“Where’s my Joy?”
Duncan peeked at the bed and barely smothered his lecherous grin.
“Joy is my mare. A beautiful mare, my brother presented me on my birthday. Of course, she’s in the stable. He was killed.”
Her babbling words pulled his up short. “What?”
“My brother, Connor. The MacKinnons killed him. I loved him the most. He was my protector.”
His ears perked at her last word. “Connor.”
“My brother, he was the champion. He was close to your height and he bested my father in the sword and strength. The clan loved him. The MacKinnons ambushed him.” She picked at her fingernails.
If she kept this behavior up, she'd faint. Duncan had no clue how to alleviate her fears and explaining the act would send her into a swoon. Looking at her distressed face, Duncan vowed to raise her pleasure to heights that released her inhibitions.
He took another step and as he predicted she stepped back. Duncan leaned against the wall and let her relax for a brief moment. Her lush green eyes enlarged. Her nostrils flared like prey sensing danger. One more step, and her back would be against the wall. Her shift gaped open, flashing the shapely curve of her breast. Sure enough, with her next step she bumped into the wall. She gasped and patted the wall behind her. It dawned on her—she was trapped. Not removing her gaze from him, her hands skimmed the wall, searching for an escape. He pushed off the wall.
“You must think I’m babbling.” He did. “But, I assure you, I am not.”
“Are you frightened?” Duncan feigned stepping left and she shuffled to the right.
“Of course not. Should I be?” Her words came out on a gust of air that he strained to hear. She took another step to her right and skirted the windows. “You will not harm me.”
Her words pleased him. She had bestowed him her trust.
“Never.” Duncan cut to his left, turning her toward the bed. He stalked her like a deer, sending her into a trap that would bring both gratification.
“I know a great many things.” One step forward and one step back. Ailsa sucked in a breath on her way by the window overlooking the courtyard. Her feet shuffled backwards. Two more steps and the back of her legs would hit the bed. Her toes peeked out from her shift, curled against the timber floor.
“There is still much you must learn.” One more move and she shambled backwards. She sucked back her gasp when the back of her legs hit the bed. “Ailsa, do not fear me.”
“I don’t fear you.” Her snort belied her nervousness. She tugged at her shift, yanking the wisp of a fabric down and displaying more of her breast to his hungry gaze. “I see my words surprise you.”
He nodded. His words trapped in his throat while his hungry gaze feasted on her creamy skin. This morn, he decided to lay with her. Truthfully, he pondered staving off the consummation so he could send her back to her clan. When he spied Cameron's farewell, he decided he was incapable of afflicting such a cruelty on her.
“I shall always speak the truth even when you have no wish to hear it.”
Duncan kept his stance relaxed even though lust wracked his body. “Now would be an excellent time to get into bed.”
“I do not feel sleepy at all.”
“Good since we will not be sleeping.” From her loss of color, he should have remained silent. “Are you frightened?”
Her high-pitched humph echoed through the room. “Most certainly not.” She tossed back the linens and climbed into bed. Making a great show of getting comfortable, she tucked the blankets around her until she was covered from chin to toes. Once shrouded, she sent him a glare. He shook his head.
Duncan perched on the trunk and tugged off his boots. His first boot hit the floor and her rigid body flinched. The second boot had her squeezing her eyes shut, scrunching her face as though her eyes might open against her wishes. Standing, he slipped off his belt. Duncan thought she might snap in half.
He never took a virgin to bed. As a rule, he avoided them, preferring his bedmates skilled and not shrieking. Actually, Duncan liked them shrieking with pleasure. Hopefully, his stamina would hold. If Duncan ever did anything right in his life, this must be it. This introduction to the pleasures of the flesh must be her most enjoyable experience. After all, he was a man with appetites and no other woman would lay with him. Duncan prayed Ailsa shared in the pleasure.
Tugging his tunic off, he tossed it to the floor and crossed the room as naked as the day he was born. Not that Ailsa knew since she never peeked at him. Her hair streaked a blaze across the linens. “Move over. I sleep on the outside.”
“I am quite content where I am," she croaked. Her eyes squeezed shut.
“Either move or I shall move you," he threatened. If her eyes had opened once, she would have seen his smirk.
* * * *
With a disgruntle sigh, she shuffled over, ruining her carefully arranged linens. The mattress dipped when his large form settled next to her stiff body. Ailsa squirmed away. Sharp pain burst through her head and yanked her off her side onto her back. Ailsa cracked an eye open.
His bare, expansive back faced her. Firelight danced across his bronzed skin. She indulged her curiosity and looked her fill, down the pearl of his spine environed by sinew to the curve of his iron buttocks. Ailsa gulped. Her husband was large all over.
“You’re sitting on my hair.”
Duncan lifted a bit, providing her with a better view of his buttocks. Ailsa snapped her eyes closed. With a chuckle, he brushed her hair to her side.
Cool air breezed against her as he threw aside her flimsy defense. He hauled her up against him. She tensed. Her joints locked. Her muscles hardened. He could pounce. Ailsa was ready for it. He just held her. His chest rose and fell in a smoothing rhythm, sweeping away her rigidness. Her fingers grazed his sculptured chest. He cupped her face, his thumb under her chin, and tilted her face to his.
&nbs
p; Opening her eyes, his large frame hung over her. Flames from the hearth threw him in shadow, outlining his body in a golden halo.
“Never fear what happens between us.” Duncan grazed his thumb against her cheek. The rough pad prickled her skin. She pressed her face against his hand. Her fingertips stroked his chest, brushing over his hardened nipples. His heart beat steady and loud.
“I will not fear it.” She lifted her mouth to his. He brushed his lips across hers in a fluttering touch she felt in her belly.
His tongue traced the seam of her mouth. Her lips parted and his tongue dove for a languid exploration. She couldn't describe what he tasted of but it was certainly manly and addictive. Her hands began to knead softly against his chest. A soft purr escaped her. He cupped the nape of her neck.
Her trembling hands slid around his neck. She twirled the ends of his silky hair around her fingers. Each stroke, the pressure of his lips, how her whole body reacted in many different ways…she liked the kissing. Her body softened from his heat and his coaxing skill. She could feel a pulse between them and reveled in the sensation. Never in her life had Ailsa felt such an intimacy with another.
A million sensations flared across her skin as he pressed his chest to hers. She gasped in his mouth. To be this close to a man with a thin piece of linen between them…
He trailed feathery kisses along her cheek to the tender underside of her ear. He sucked the lobe into his hot mouth and tugged slightly. His gruff exhales reverberated through her and matched the rapid beat of her heart. His day’s growth scratched her pricking skin. The burn reminded her of the strength and power he reigned in for her. Her pulse quickened, flushing her body with a sultry heat. Oh, she liked this too. She gripped his shoulders, needing support against the maelstrom of delight eddying her senses.
She tugged at his hair, demanding him to come back. He teased a path of kisses down her neck. He nipped at her smooth skin then lapped away the dulcet sting with the tip of his tongue. Against her leg, she felt something move. Behind the hazy sensations, she knew what it was.
Duncan planted teasing kisses along her collarbone and slipped the shift down until her arms were pinned against her side. She squirmed. “I’d rather leave it on.”
“I want all of you. I’ll give you the same.”
"I like the kissing," she said, panting.
"Me too," he said and drew down her garment. “You’ll like the rest.” He stroked his hand over her clavicle. Her shoulders curled.
He cupped her full breast that filled his hand. His thumb brushed her taut pink nipple between his fingers, earning a low moan. Dipping his head, he pulled her nipple into his mouth. Sucking and drinking deeply of her.
Her graceful fingers gripped his head, holding him to her. His tongue flicked the pebbled peak as his other hand tugged down her shift around her waist. Her nails scraped against his scalp.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice strained.
He rose up. Her swollen lips were panting for every breath. His shaft hardened.
Through gritted teeth, Duncan muttered, “Loving my wife.” He claimed her lips with fervor. Nothing beyond the two of them existed. Her mind called for this to stop yet her body demanded her mind to shut up.
Her arms fell to the side, no power left in the limbs. “Duncan,” she pleaded.
He knew she was unsure of what she begged for. Returning to her breast, he slid the shift from her heated body and threw it aside. His rough tongue scraped her tender nipple. She gripped the sheets.
Spreading her legs, he settled between them but had to make her ready before breaching her maidenhead.
His swollen shaft laid heavy against her thighs. Ailsa tensed.
His hand slid up her leg and around her thigh, stopping when he reached the very center of her. "Ailsa," his voice strained. He slipped a finger inside her. She gave a soft hiss. Duncan caressed her mouth, not letting the pain break the spell.
"What are you doing?"
”Loving you.” Her walls strangled his fingers. He kissed her, tasting her, teasing her so she was beyond the little moans of pleasure whimpering from her. He kissed her until her bones melted along with her worries.
Nestled between her legs, he rubbed his manhood against her moist opening. Gripping her hips, his velvety tip probed against her. His hold tightened, not letting her get away the pain intensity as he inched deeper.
* * * *
“Easy, my love.” He penetrated her tight opening, stopping when he hit her maidenhead. Both of them hissed.
She planted her palms on his chest and pushed.
His hips moved and a stab went from her stomach and slashed her in half. With the heel of her palm, she pushed against him. "I don't like this."
“It’ll pass. I promise.” He stroked the strands from her face. She stared up at him, not believing him but wanting too.
Her body softened and the pain faded. Sweat dotted his straining face as he held himself still. When he saw the wonder in her face, he moved slightly.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked through clenched teeth when she gasped.
She shook her head. “Aye.”
He gave her a peck on her mouth then another one until she lost herself in the motion.
He pumped in and out.
Harder and harder.
In and out.
Harder and deeper.
Throwing back his head, Duncan roared his pleasure. Spent, he collapsed on her. His head buried in the crook of her neck. His hot breath panting against her scorching skin cooled her with every hitched breath. A fine sheen of sweat coated their skins. His scent covered her body, branding her as his. Duncan was unsure why contentment flooded him but he accepted it.
His breathing calmed. Rolling from her, he tucked her head into the crook of his neck and held her close to him. Duncan stroked her arm, not able to stop touching her. He never concerned himself with such stuff but with her, Duncan felt content, at peace. The restless urge he could never name abated. It panicked him but he never pushed her away, instead he held her closer.
Lowering his eyes, he saw the top of her head. He twisted his own to glimpse her face. Her eyes flicked up then lowered. Confusion marred her face, furrowing tiny lines between her winged brows.
“What ails you?”
She made a sound in the back of her throat and shrugged. She burrowed deeper into the bed cushions.
Duncan decided not to press her.
“I think we shouldn't do that,” she confessed, her voice grumpy.
He hugged her to him and his rumble of laughter shook her.
“You are wrong. The first time is never great.”
"The second time won't get any better I imagine."
He pushed her head down on his chest. His little wife had yet to realize her hidden passion. He sampled it in her kiss and the way she squirmed underneath him. "You imagine wrong woman, you are a woman of passion. You'll see next time."
"You are going to want to do this a lot, right?"
“I think I like being married.” He tucked his arm behind his head. He closed his eyes.
On the edge of sleep, he heard her say, “I enjoyed it as well.”
* * * *
Ailsa jolted from sleep. Curled up in the middle of the bed, two realizations flashed in her mind. The first was she was married. But the second, which was too alarming to consider, was that she was naked.
Ailsa wished for nothing more than to curl into herself and hide here forever. But this was the locale of the night's horrible incident.
Throwing aside the plaid, she washed then donned her shift before performing her toilette. When she pinned her silver and pearl brooch to her bosom, she swore she was ready to face her husband.
Ailsa never got beyond the bed. Righting the sheets, she spotted blood staining the linens and ripped them off the mattress and hurled them in the corner as though flames licked at the edges. Burning them crossed her mind but she decided such action was too dramatic. The clan knew
what occurred on a wedding night and although it eased some of her tension, it embarrassed her as well.
She could remember inspecting the newlywed ladies for any sign of a transformation that most avoided her for days. She had never been so rude or pointed but with the MacLeans, she wondered if that might not deter them. Ailsa hoped no one did because she might have to flee.
She exhaled a cleansing breath to calm her frantic thoughts, which was difficult since her body ached and felt unlike herself. Nothing ever happened in her life. The days melted into one another and since arriving on MacLean lands, her life, her body was different.
Heading to the window embrasure, she cracked open the shutter and peered out over the bustling courtyard. To the west, men extended the wall, adding heavy stone after heavy stone. Metal striking metal echoed up to her. The smithy struck his hammer against his anvil in a steady beat like a buoyant song. Shouts cried out over the steady hum of activity, the source of the racket that awoke her.
Duncan stood in the middle of the bustle with Lachlan at his side. There was no chance of her not spotting her husband. Black Duncan stood taller than others did. The male equivalent of Ben Nevis. Neither man spared a glance upward. The slam of the donjon’s door reverberated up to her. She leaned out the window to see Caelan dodging wagons on his way to her husband.
“I am not cowering. I am planning my day. That’s it—planning my day.” She slammed the shutter shut and circled the room again.
Passing the window, she stopped and peeked out. She spotted Niall running with a pack of boys wielding wooden swords as their boyish cries rent through the air. Closing the oak slab with a sigh, she paced around again.
“Perhaps he has forgotten last night. Oh! He must have.” However, every moment was branded on her mind. “Aye!" No doubt, he has lain with dozens…nay, hundreds of women. He surely will not remember me. I have the same exact parts, no different from any other. As Alec says, ‘women are no different in the dark.’ And it was dark last night.”
The Marriage Alliance Page 4