A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes)

by Stephanie Sterling

  “I d-don’t want you to see me l-like this,” she stammered, choking back a sudden sob. Lachlan looked stunned, and then realisation seemed to hit.

  “Oh lass,” Lachlan sighed. He reached for her again and dragged her back into his arms. This time however his touches were tender, coaxing her to open up to him, not asking for any more than she was willing to give. “You have a selfish brute of a husband, don’t you?” he groaned.

  Muira could feel his arousal straining against her, and loved him so dearly for the way he was holding himself back for her. She could see the desire flashing in his eyes, could only imagine what it was costing him to restrain himself.

  “No,” she shook her head quickly, speaking quietly. “I have the very best, the most perfect, husband any woman could ever ask for,” she whispered shakily, standing on tiptoes so that she could brush her lips against Lachlan’s on. “And so, I would just hate to ever disappoint you.”

  “You could never disappoint me.”

  “I could I-”

  “You could never disappoint me, Muira,” Lachlan repeated emphatically.

  Muira bit her tongue against any further argument that wanted to fly from her lips. “Oh,” she stammered breathlessly.

  “Oh indeed,” Lachlan chuckled. He moved to kiss her again, peppering her skin with light, feathery busses as his hands moved slowly to begin peeling away his wife’s clothes. He worked slowly, gently, relieving his wife of the confines of her garments until she was standing before him in only her shift.

  Muira drew a shaky breath, wondering if this would be enough for her husband. He could see the outline of her changed figure through the thin material, but the red marks that slashes across her belly and breasts were still hidden at least.

  “Lachlan?” she whispered timidly. His gaze was still hot and hungry. He still looked like a man desperate to devour her.

  “More,” he rasped, twisting his fingers in the fabric of her shift and gently tugging it up her body. Muira couldn’t stop herself from tensing and trying to stop him. She pushed at his hands.

  “Wait?” she begged. “Next time-”

  “This time,” Lachlan growled softly. He looped an arm around her back, dragging her against his chest. “You’re my wife, and I love you,” he panted, moving his hand to the small of Muira’s back, as he tilted his hips and pushed her forwards. “Can’t you feel what you’re doing to me?” he groaned. “You have to trust me, Muira,” he grunted.

  Muira gave a tiny, hardly perceptible nod. She did want to taste again the magic that they shared before, but she was also terrified that somehow it would have changed, that maybe reality wouldn’t live up to her memories. How could it, she wondered, when her body was so completely ruined?

  She shivered, terrified, as Lachlan pulled her shift off over her head, dropping it in a crumpled heap on the floor as he took a step back to regard his prize. Muira kept her eyes closed, her face downcast; she knew that she wouldn’t be able to bear the disappointment in Lachlan gaze when he saw the tattered remains of her figure.

  “Muira-”

  “You don’t have to say anything!” she cried, interrupting him before he could finish. “I know,” she moaned.

  “You know what?” Lachlan breathed, taking a step closer. Muria jumped in surprise when she felt his fingers whisper over the delicate skin of her back, stroking soothingly down her sides as he urged her to move against him.

  “That I-I’m ruined!” she croaked.

  “Ruined?” Lachlan repeated. He sounded honestly baffled. “You’re beautiful,” he swore, nuzzling at her neck and bathing her skin in kisses while his hands went about reacquainting themselves with his wife’s voluptuous figure. “Even more beautiful,” he growled, urging her back towards the bed.

  Muira gave a little snort of disbelieving laughter. “Well, as if you can tell me the truth. That I-”

  “Which truth?” Lachlan murmured huskily. “That you look like a woman who’s born my child? Don’t you realise how beautiful that makes you?” he groaned thickly, clutching at her body, finally making Muira shiver with something that wasn’t fear of rejection.

  “You really don’t mind?” she whispered tremulously. “Truly?”

  “Muira!” Lachlan panted. “Do you really have to ask that?” he groaned, laying her down upon the bed, and then following after he had her arranged on the mattress beneath him. “I love you,” he whispered reverently, kissing her lips, and then her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her chin, the curve of her throat… “So much,” he breathed, the words seeping into Muira’s skin. “So very much,” he murmured as he devoured her.

  Muira mewed restlessly beneath her husband, her hands strummed impatiently at his shoulders. He was still fully dressed, concealed from her view and touch by far too many layers of fabric.

  “Undress?” she purred desperately. “I need to feel you,” she confessed breathlessly, as her inhibitions slowly melted away.

  “Not yet,” Lachlan chuckled, moving lower down her body. His beard scratched against her tender bosom, causing Muira to shiver and start as she realised where he was heading. Full, and swollen with milk, her breasts were almost painfully sensitive. She was about to push him away, but Lachlan tongue had already darted out of his mouth to encircle one dusky nipple in its heat. Muira gave a little squeal and arched up off the bed.

  “Oh! Lachlan,” she gasped, horrified when her breast beaded with milk. “The baby-you mustn’t-we can’t-”

  “Spoilsport,” he chuckled, but utterly shamelessly lapped the tip clean before crawling back up his wife’s body to give her a swift, searing kiss. She looped her arms around his neck as his tongue surged between her lips, dragging him closer as she tugged at his shirt.

  “Please?” she begged. “Please, take it off?” She slipped her hands under the warm fabric, raking her nails down Lachlan’s back, over his chest, feeling the powerful muscles flex and tense beneath her fingers.

  “Well, seeing as how you asked so nicely,” he laughed, but his voice was raw.

  He pulled back just a fraction, just enough to enable him to tug his shirt off over his head. The second that he had toss it onto the floor he was covering Muria again. The hard, hair spattered breadth of his chest was bearing down upon her breasts, making her wriggle and squirm, and long for more than she knew she could have.

  “And this?” she whispered playfully, dipping her hand to the thick, scratchy wool of his kilt. “This definitely needs to go,” she teased, smoothing her palms over his arse, pushing him down as she bucked her hips up.

  “Careful lass,” Lachlan growled, clenching his jaw and fighting to restrain his baser urges. It had been so long since he had sank into her heat… “Or you’ll be getting more than you bargained for,” he groaned gutturally.

  “Let me help you with that then?” she breathed into his ear, sounding wholly unconcerned by his warning. She searched under the tartan folds, gathering him into her palm and starting to stroke. Muira felt Lachlan’s entire body shudder as she began to pump him, coating his cock with the sticky dribble of moisture that had beading at the head of sex.

  “Wait,” he grunted, but it seemed to take a Herculean effort before he could force himself to brush her eager hands away.

  Muira pouted. “But I-”

  “But you are going to lie there and let me finish,” Lachlan panted, trying to catch his breath.

  Muira opened her mouth in question, but Lachlan had just lowered his lips to her body, continuing his downwards trail from where he had left off, starting with the sensitive skin just under her breasts before moving down to her belly. It was still soft and round, and Muira found an apology straining to bubble forth from her lips, but, almost as though he had anticipated such a move, Lachlan spoke first.

  “Out baby was here,” he murmured, awed it seemed. He kissed each angry red slash where her skin had been stretched. Muira had been promised that they would fade given time, but Lachlan made her feel… honoured, proud almost, to carry th
e reminders of the love they’d shared, of the life they’d made. He pressed one final kiss to the centre of her stomach, and then shot his wife a wicked smile.

  Muira could guess where Lachlan was heading next, and her whole body gave a thrilling tinge. It started in the very tips of her fingers and toes, and amalgamated in the core of her womb.

  “Have you missed me, love?” he groaned, splaying Muira’s legs a fraction wider, as she nodded and moaned incoherently.

  Lachlan tiptoed his fingers through her soft thatch of curls, stroking the wetness that had pooled there. It was torture. His body screamed to be allowed to thrust inside her, and Muira’s body appeared willing and able, but Lachlan held tight to his tenuous control. He was going to make her scream… even he couldn’t be inside her when it happened.

  “Please?” Muira begged, bucking her hips in wanton invitation.

  Lachlan lowered his head, nuzzling at her sex, breathing in the delicious scent of his wife. She was musky and wet, and begging to be tasted. His tongue darted out to tease her, lapping between her folds as he gorged himself on her salty sweetness, teasing and tormenting her as he took his time finding the magically little button that she so wanted him to stoke.

  “Lachlan,” she sobbed, knotting her fingers in his hair, trying desperately to direct his mouth. He obliged her at length, letting the wet, rasping muscle of his tongue slide heavily over her clit, before drawing the bundle of nerves into his mouth and suckling hungrily. “Oh God!” Muira screamed. He was pinning her hips to the bed, but she wouldn’t stop fighting him. “It’s not enough-” she choked. “It’s not enough-I need-”

  Lachlan raised his head, his eyes burning with desire. “Tell me?” he panted.

  “You,” Muira gasped. “Inside me. Now, Lachlan, now!”

  “Muira-” he choked.

  “I can’t wait! Don’t make me wait!” she fairly screamed.

  They couldn’t-or at least, they shouldn’t… but Lachlan needed Muira so badly, and she’d just handed him her permission to take her on a plate. He was a man, not a saint, and his body had yearned to have her for such an achingly long time.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he swore, groaning as he fumbled with the buckle of his belt and finally he stripped away his kilt. “I promise I-”

  “I don’t care,” Muira sobbed, writhing against him desperately. “Just love me?” she begged, gasping sharply when she felt the hot insistent pressure of her husband’s cock knocking against the slick entrance to her body.

  “You’re sure?” he grunted, and Muira could have screamed. She forced her eyes open, and looked up into Lachlan’s face. The tendons in his neck were straining and his whole body was rigid and shaking. Muira felt a tiny flutter of fear when she realised what she was about to unleash, but the need clawing and coiling in her womb wouldn’t be ignored.

  “I’m sure,” she moaned, and Lachlan finally slid forwards, inching slowly into her dripping sheath as he watched for his wife’s reaction through the slits of his eyes.

  She gave a hiss… of pain? And Lachlan froze. His cock, aroused to the point of pain, throbbed and twitched, and demanded satisfaction, but his heart overruled his instinct to pound heedless into Muira’s cunt until he tasted satisfaction for the first time in months. He spoke her name in a strangled growl.

  “Don’t stop,” Muira panted. “Oh God. You can’t stop,” she moaned, lifting her hips and pulling Lachlan deeper. He slid all the way inside her, forcing her to take him, as he forced himself not to explode at the sheer bliss he felt in being held inside her body again. She was so hot and wet, like a sodden fist that was clenched tightly around his cock.

  “I need-I need to move, love,” Lachlan choked. He was sure he was hurting her, sure that she was in discomfort, he couldn’t bear the fact, but nor did he think his trembling thighs were going to allow him to remain still for very much longer. He could almost hear the thin strands of his control straining and snapping.

  “Move,” Muira gasped, a very feminine smile curving her lips. “I want to feel you.” She felt slightly sore, and a little tender, but Lachlan always stretched her body to her very limits anyway, and the pleasure of knowing that they were once again fused as one more than compensated for any twinge of discomfort that Muira might have felt.

  With a ragged groan, Lachlan obeyed his wife’s commanded. He rocked back on his knees, and then sank forwards again, repeating the motion slowly and steadily, until he was absolutely certain that the noises trickling from Muira’s lips were mews of pleasure and not pain. Her mouth was parted and her sheath had started to flutter around him, and Lachlan finally allowed himself to take her as he wanted-needed- to…

  He quickened his tempo, deepened his thrusts, and gripped her hips so hard that he was sure to leave bruises as he pounded into her cunt. Muira moans had taken on a whole new level of urgency at the unexpected ferocity of his new assault. The headboard of the bed banged against the wall with every plunge that Lachlan made, and with a smug grin he could almost guarantee that Muira would be heard outside of their room when he eventually let her come.

  That was going to have to be soon…

  Lachlan could feel his body tensing to its final degree, his cock pulsed fiercely, his balls drew up against his body… and so he slipped a hand between their damp, sweaty skin, to the place where the were joined and pinched Muria’s clit mercilessly between his thumb and forefinger… and then, within a second of each other, their bodies were wracked by spasms of release that were so dizzying and blinding in their intensity that it was almost too great a rush of pleasure to bear.

  Lachlan collapsed atop his wife once he was spent, crushing Muria into the mattress as she continued to jerk and clench around him. His limbs absolutely refused to carry his weight as he thought about trying to lift himself off her delicate form, so Lachlan was forced to remain where he was, as he struggled to catch his breath and waited out the violent pounding of his heart.

  Muira didn’t actually mind in the slightest. She loved the feel of her husband, hard and overpowering, bearing down upon her body as they both fought to recover from the disorientating waves of ecstasy that had broken so violently over them. She held him against her as they breathing gradually slowed and they drifted back down to earth.

  “That wasn’t-” Lachlan panted, easing himself off Muira just a little, “-exactly what I had in mind.”

  “That’s not a complaint, I hope?” Muria teased, which earned her a swift, searing kiss from her husband. She looped her arms around his neck, and tried to drag his mouth back down against her own when Lachlan pulled back, looking suddenly serious.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked anxiously, casting his eyes over her flushed, sated face. “I didn’t-”

  “It was perfect,” Muria purred, nuzzling against her husband. “Truly,” she murmured breathily.

  “You told me we were meant to wait,” Lachlan whispered, dotting her throat with kisses. There was still a note of worry in his voice.

  “I feel fine,” Muira assured him instantly. “Better than fine,” she giggled. “Much better than fine.”

  “Good,” Lachlan yawned, pulling the blankets up over them both as he settled down beside his wife, clasping her close against his chest as he let his eyes drift shut. “It’s been killing me you know,” he groaned.

  “I know,” Muira said, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she added softly, brushing Lachlan’s damp hair off of his face. “And thank you… for waiting-for not finding someone el-”

  “Don’t even start with such nonsense, Muira,” Lachlan growled, his eyes snapping open.

  Muria blushed hotly. “But I know that you’re-that is-men- require-”

  Once he’d let her splutter embarrassedly for long enough, Lachlan came to his wife’s rescue with a gentle, tender, silencing kiss. “It’s you that I’m addicted to, Muria,” he murmured against her lips. “It’s your body I crave. No one else’s,” he promised. “Not ever.” He kissed her again. “Sle
ep now,” he said quietly, stifling another yawn. “I’m sure Maisie won’t let us rest for long.”

  Muira had to agree, so she settled down in Lachlan’s strong, protective arms, and almost instantly drifted off into the deliciously unique sleep that only ever followed a thorough session of lovemaking with her husband.

  ..ooOOoo..

  “You could ride with Maisie and I in the carriage you know,” Muria pouted over breakfast the next morning, reluctant to give up her husband’s company for another whole day. Maisie’s nanny was a dear, but her conversation was hardly sparkling. “I know that there’s a groom who could ride that beast of a horse for you.”

  Lachlan was munching cheerfully on a piece a toast as he cradled their daughter in the crook off one arm. “There’s not really room though,” he argued amiably, which was utterly nonsense, Muira thought to herself, which either meant… he didn’t want to ride with her and their daughter… or he was up to something…

  What he could be up to though Muira really couldn’t imagine, although she planned to dedicate much of the journey to Castle Cameron pondering this puzzle-it wasn’t as though there was very much else to do, although as soon as she began to recognise their surroundings she excitedly began to point things out to little Maisie, much to the amusement of the baby’s nanny she was sure.

  Maisie had just finished a feed when, to Muira’s surprise, the carriage rolled to a gentle stop. Lady MacRae handed the baby to her nanny and popped her head out of the window. She wondered if a horse had thrown a shoe, or if there were some obstruction up ahead… her cheeks coloured when her thoughts wandered down that route…

  In fact, Muira was so lost in that particular memory that she failed to realise exactly where they were, until Lachlan rode Faidhaich up to her side of the carriage, and shot her a decidedly wicked smile. His wife gasped. She looked up and down the highroad, sure that they couldn’t be there, but they were…

  “Why-?” she squeaked, but she was feeling rather breathless and couldn’t seem to manage anything else.

  Lachlan chuckled as he swung himself out of his saddle. He opened up the carriage door and held a hand up to his wife, clearly expecting her to step down to him.