by Fiona Faris
“For surprise attacks,” he added, entranced.
Then she attacked him. Where the knife came from, he hadn’t a clue. Ethan’s hand was up fast enough to stop her wrist, but he braced them both as they tumbled from momentum back onto the hay.
He landed with an ‘oof-’ and felt the breath knocked out of him.
“Where did you get that?” he asked in a daze. His perspective had taken a sudden shift, and to top it off, now he had his wife laid across him.
“You think I don’t keep a hidden knife on my person? That was Fergus’ first lesson.” The grin on her face stretched wide, and there was a challenge written there.
He knew that Georgiana was fiercely competitive, and he had no doubt that she was determined to win. But he was distracted, too, by the weight of her, the way she shifted to sit up, knees on either side of him, exhilarated-
The knife lay his cheek open in a movement he utterly failed to anticipate, and one that he should have, given the situation. Ethan yelped and threw up a hand to cover the wound, turning his face away, and even with his pain protesting, he noticed her jerk upright.
“Ethan?!” There was a 'fuff'-clatter of the knife falling. “Oh, lord, I- Damnit-” Her hand, soft and insistent, joined his, trying to get a glimpse of the injury. “I’m so sorry, Ethan, I’m so- Hold still-”
Ethan began to laugh. The wound wasn’t deep - a lasting scar at worst - and his face had just been cut open by Georgiana, and she was panicking. If this wasn’t the most absurd situation. His hand lowered, sticky with blood, so he could properly gaze at her. “Did ye just swear?”
“Oh, shut up. Are you alright?”
This question rolled off him, and the scolding had him laughing again. “Ye did! Ye swore…who taught ye that!” In all of his memories of their time together, he’d never heard her curse. As a result, he’d kept his own language in check.
“I am not telling. Now stay still and let me examine your face.”
It was the only warning he got before she covered the wound with her palm, and so he dampened his laughter to a chuckle and watched her instead.
“...It’s just a surface wound. No real harm is done.”
Ethan smiled and repeated her words. “Nae real harm done. I told ye.”
Her hand still had blood on it when it came to rest against his chest. Not that he minded, but it did draw his attention to the way she was biting at her lower lip.
It was a nervous tic, a habit he had noticed on their travels from Edinburgh, which made him want to rub his thumb over the abused flesh and kiss her- “I will be more careful next time.”
“Nae!” His hand came up to lay over her bloody one – “Ye struck a blow while defending yerself. Dinna apologize.”
It amazed him when she shivered. “I did not mean to cut you.”
It was clear that she was frightened.
He guessed that she had not seen many injuries. He already knew it distressed her to see it and regretted causing her more worry in her condition.
Ethan couldn’t keep the fondness out of his tone when he said, “I ken it weel. It was a surprise attack.”
And to prove that there was no harm done, he took her hand and brought her knuckles up to skim where the injury was already closing, nothing but a puckered thin line of dried blood.
Once again, he was acutely aware of the fact that she was straddling him. In tending to his wound she had wiggled up to sit on his stomach. Now, as she leaned in, her eyes were luminous. To mask the shudder that ran down his spine, Ethan gave her a smile and a nudge, repeating, “Nae harm done.”
“I thought you would catch me before I managed to hurt you,” Georgiana complained, thumb trailing along the wound again. She seemed deep in thought, heavy with concern, as though he was going to change his mind and reprimand her. That, he imagined, was a leftover from her youth.
“I was distracted,” he realized a second later that he might need to own up to the source for his distraction. He did not want to; this business was far too serious.
“Is that so?”
His heart almost burst out of his chest when she put her palm back down, right over his heart, and leaned in. Her hair fluttered down around her face, bringing with it the smell of the lavender soap she favored; lavender and a crisp sweet smell that reminded him of apples.
“And what would have been distracting you?”
In an attempt to save face, Ethan rolled her in the hay. Their positions flipped, and suddenly he was on top of her, a more advantageous position in every way, except. Except that she gasped and parted her lips and stared at him and didn’t speak.
They stared at each other like that, both of them as surprised as the other by his boldness; he was usually so careful with her. Breathless and caught, he stammered a rather eloquent “Um-”
But Georgiana had plans of her own. Before Ethan could react, say anything further, she was pressing her mouth to his.
Then they were kissing. A burst of furious elation exploded in his chest, but he was mindful of the fact that he did have her pinned down, they had been locked in a cold war for days, and she did lay open his face just minutes before-
Georgiana looked… contrite. “I am so sorry, I should not have-”
For a moment, they were silent. He was almost afraid to speak, fearful of breaking the moment. “No, it’s-”
“Can I kiss you again?” Georgiana stopped him, “Please?”
It was a silly question to answer aloud, so he did so by kissing her.
They stayed like that, exchanging warm kisses until her fingers wound in his hair and elicited a soft moan that he couldn’t control. He moved back to ask if this was correct… if they should be kissing in a pile of hay outside of their house. But as his mouth formed the words, Georgiana kissed him.
If they were going to keep at this a while, Ethan had to make himself more comfortable. He raked a hand through the hay, to support himself above her, so he didn’t pin her with his weight. A thought flickered in the back of his mind, but her tongue slipped past his lips, and he lost it.
Despite his attempts to be courteous, Georgiana was having none of it. In the middle of a daze, he tried to place the flavor of her tongue – honey… she’d had tea with breakfast? There was no stopping the groan that escaped; it was an impulse reaction that pressed him closer, and that gasped an audible, “Georgie-” out of him.
His words caused her to freeze.
“Ethan,” Georgiana breathed, leaning back onto the ground. Her lips were swollen, and he couldn’t stop staring at them. “I have missed you so much in the last few days. You have barely touched me or-” His eyes went to hers, incredulous. “Or anything. Are you already tired of me?”
And he was so floored by the notion of what she was saying that he didn’t respond right away. Her hand rested on his cheek again, and it occurred to him that she had seemed more worried of late.
“Please do not give yourself to me just because I am your wife.”
Please her. Give himself to her. Give himself to her. Didn’t he already do that ages ago?
“If you have lost interest...”
The last word did it.
“Nae lassie, how could I ever do tha’”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Startled, Ethan sat up and waved his hands, stricken by the idea that he might make her think that she was somehow less desirable to him or that he ceased to adore her.
“My only concern is for ye. For-” And here he got stuck. How could he explain… that she was the mother of his child, vessel of their deliverance…a duke’s daughter who, at the most charitable, is far too good for him. All it would take was a word, and he’d give her anything she asked for, including his life.
His wife was lying in a pile of hay beside him. It was sunny and warm, the gentle breeze stirring from the east that brought with it the distant tang of briny water. The horses were tied off on the other side of the fence, pulling at the grass and uninterested in the tumbles of their huma
n riders.
The fortress seemed very far away.
“Sword training,” he stated with a lame sweep of his hands.
Her stare was blank with confusion. “Sword… training?”
Ethan could feel his face burning. “We were supposed to be-”
It clicked, and she sat up. It reminded him of the indignant way she’d done so before, hair fluttering around her face and fists curling in little balls. “Well, I- If you would rather we be sword training, we certainly can-”
Now he shielded his face with a hand, uncomfortably aware that he was digging his own grave. “I dinna want ye to misinterpret my intentions –”
“Your intentions?” This, it seemed, was the wrong thing to say again, for now Georgiana looked offended. “I kissed you! And I’m sorry, perhaps I should not have. We should return to sword training. I am sorry - for taking advantage of the situation.”
And she moved to stand up, Ethan grabbed her wrist, eyes stretched wide with concern. “Dinna-”
Georgiana froze like a rabbit.
They held the stare for a few seconds before Ethan threw caution to the wind and dragged his wife - his Georgiana - back for a kiss.
It was a huge relief when she melted against him. He was kissing her, pulling at the edge of her lip, the one she’d dappled with redness from all the anxious chewing, kissed, and added a nip of his own.
This time, when he pulled back, she looked dizzy. He tried to hide how smug he felt, instead opting for brushing his thumb against her cheek.
“Is that what ye wanted?” Ethan laughed, kissing her again to muffle it.
In reply, she dragged him back down, and he used a kiss this time to press her into the hay. “Let’s not wait to be with each other so long again. I cannot stand it. It fills me with uncertainty and grief. I want-”
He laughed again, and this time it was in disbelief, straightening up so she could see his face and the way he searched her expression. “Ye’re my wife, Georgiana. The most precious thing I have in my life,” his hand brushed her belly, “Save for this precious one ye carry. I couldna ever lose interest in ye.”
But her smile faded. “Never say never. For the journey is long, and we are just at the beginning.”
“I havena the right-” Ethan continued “-to ask for yer trust and yet, I dae.”
Georgiana turned her head away and seemed to study the sky. “I do trust you, and so I will take you at your word.”
“Guid thing I have already put my bairn in ye. Ye canna escape me the noo.”
This earned him the ghost of a smile.
“Ye may have any part of me ye wish,” Ethan confirmed, his voice husky from a mix of disuse and desire. “Freely given.”
Instead of answering him, Georgiana leaned in and pressed her lips to his neck. His heart started to race, he was at her mercy as she traced up the curve of his neck, breath tickling at the sensitive cusp of his ear.
Still straddling her, Ethan’s legs tightened on either side, and his hand fumbled to find hers and squeeze.
“Lady Buchanan-”
And then she bit his ear.
Georgiana had a wicked grin on her face as she leaned in and bit him again, this time rougher and on the side of his neck. It bordered on violent, followed by a suck that made him shudder all the way down to his toes. “Still fighting?” he asked, breathless.
“No,” She murmured into his neck. “Marking.”
Marking, even mentally, he stumbled over the implication, reeled with it as she admired her handiwork. He could feel her fingers tracing where, he assumed, there was now a bright red blossom of blood under the skin. Possessiveness raked his chest, raw and keen, as he tangled his hand in her hair, and she squirmed. He hadn’t kissed her enough.
That was terrible.
Ethan pressed her against the hay, with his full weight, and kissed her with a hot tangle of breath and tongue. She moaned. Something in him broke, and his hand moved away from holding hers and dragged down her side.
Georgiana did not hesitate at his touch, giving another low sound of pleasure even before his fingertips ghosted her stomach, nudging her riding habit out of the way. His gloves were still on, the ones that left his fingers free for gripping and cover his palm from the twist of the sword pommel, but her skin was smooth and warm.
He sat up.
Georgiana watched him, and the sight of her spread out across the hay was breathtaking. Her hair, gleaming with highlights in the winter sunlight, seemed to mingle with the strands of grain, creating an endless wave, and her cheeks were flushed from exertion. It was like being caught in the gaze of an angel.
Ethan gave her a bashful smile as his hand continued under the fabric of her dress until it was high enough to skate the side of her breast. Her eyes flickered, and for a moment, he was drunk on the exhilaration of watching her surrender to his touch.
His hand shifted to cover her breast, palming her, careful of her sensitive breasts. Her soft moans put his concerns to rest, as her delicate hand pressed his, insistent that he should continue.
Ethan knew he wanted her, more than anything in his entire life. With a sudden boldness, he dipped his head and moved his hand to cup her breast. Eyes locked on her face, he laved his tongue over the fabric of her tunic, right over her nipple.
“Take it off.” Her demand - her order – got him moving. “I want it off-” And she fumbled at the buttons of her tunic, hands shaking and frantic in a way that made him giggle. He joined her in the attempt, and when it opened, it revealed a lacy undergarment. His eyebrows rose, never having seen it before. It caught his breath, kept him staring, trying to memorize the contour of her body, the way her supple skin shifted beneath the fabric, how the swell of the lace complemented the swell of her breast-
The hand that had gone abandoned on her stomach was caught by her fingers. He watched, captivated, as she brought it up to rest against the lace. “You may have any part of me you wish,” she echoed him fervently. “Freely given.”
His gut clenched with want, and he massaged with an obedient roll, soft skin, and lace under his fingers. But it occurred to Ethan that his hands were calloused, rough, and the leather of his gloves didn’t seem suitable for the fabric. So he slid his hand up to cup her face instead, intending to say… something, anything, but the movement drew out a push of her body, and he forgot that he wanted to say anything at all.
Instead, he kissed her neck, far gentler than her own kiss had been, and raised his hand to his mouth so he could tug his glove free with his teeth.
Gloveless, his hand returned to her breast, this time able to feel the peak of the nipple below his palm, and he did nothing more than slide it across the lace, appreciating the contrasting feel of flesh and fabric.
“Very delicate,” he mused.
“Uh-huh” was her breathless response.
“Something more delicate then,” he confirmed and pressed a heated kiss to her neck. Right away, she caught him there, refusing to let him pull away even if he wanted. The encouragement inspired him to scrape the divot of her neck and shoulder with his teeth. Ethan adored the way he could feel her body rise against his, her chest heaving against the press of his circling palm and the soft moans pushing past her lips.
This wasn’t exactly what he wanted, and so he began to trail his kisses down. The tangle of her fingers in his hair followed him, clinging more than pulling. When he reached his intended goal, he placed a chaste kiss at the top of her breast and then demonstrated exactly what he meant by ‘delicate touch’. His tongue swirled over a nipple, a wolfish smile at the squeak it elicited, and then he closed his mouth around the sweet bud and gave it a pull.
That was delicious. Georgiana shrieked, toes curling and hips rolling, throwing a hand up over her mouth to dampen the sound. Her eyes were still closed, and he could hear the muffled noises of pleasure through her fingers.
He was barely touching her…what other noises might she make - his eyes cut over to the bridge leading up to t
he fortress. Eastcairn was quiet, almost sleepy, and the cries of a young woman might carry through to the house. The last thing he wanted was to call concerned workers to their stables.
His warning was nothing more than his hand brushing over her folded fingers, but she responded, “S-Sorry.” Even that word was whimpered. “I will be quiet.”
The drag of his tongue moved up over lace until it reached bare skin, and when he raised his head, his tongue hung out of his mouth. “We could go to bed, or we could climb the ladder and frolic in the hay,” Ethan pointed out, voice low. “Which d’ye choose.”
Their eyes meet.
“Take me up the ladder,” Georgiana ordered.