by Lauren Smith
A quick knock on the door had them both stumbling apart. Rowena was smiling again, a little less shy. She covered her lips with her fingertips and wrapped her blanket around her body while he opened the door. A stout young man carried their two travel cases, and a little maid followed him, carrying a tray of soup, bread, and a bit of beef.
“Set them on the bed.” He nodded at the lad and then took the tray from the maid and set it aside. He gave both servants a few coins and then locked the door behind them. When he turned back around, he saw Rowena was already nibbling delicately at the food.
“I hope you don’t mind, I’m simply famished.” Her cheeks pinkened as she realized he was watching her.
“No, please eat. I’ll unpack us and then join you.” He strode to the bed and opened his valise. He’d just lifted out his shirts when she spoke, her voice still tentative.
“Could we ring for someone to come light a fire?” she asked.
Quinn paused in the act of setting his clothes on the bed. A fire? Good God, he’d forgotten. He was so used to the cold that he rarely bothered with a fire until he was freezing, but his little English bride was from a southern part of the country.
“Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it.” He abandoned the clothes and walked over to the fireplace and knelt down beside the stack of dry logs and the box with the tinder and matches.
“We really ought to stop apologizing to one another,” Rowena laughed.
He chuckled as he arranged the logs and tinder and lit the fire. Once he was satisfied with the heating glow of the flames, he returned to unpacking. When he finally settled down in a chair beside Rowena, she was nestled in the blankets, her feet tucked up beneath her, the voluminous folds of her skirt flowing down over the chair to the floor.
“Did you get enough to eat?” he asked between bites of his brown soda bread.
“Hmm…,” she replied in a sleepy murmur. Her head rested against the tall chair back as she gazed at him.
There was a gentleness to her, a sweet hopefulness for all the wonders life could give that made his heart hurt. He’d been like that once, a lad with only love in his heart. And then he’d lost Maura and the light that lit his world had been snuffed out. Blair had been his last bit of hope, until he’d met Rowena. When she’d agreed to marry him, an invisible burden that had weighed him down seemed to vanish. But he couldn’t get close to her, not like he had Maura. There could be no more love; he could not survive losing another woman he loved.
Rowena stood up. “I’ll change for bed,” she murmured, and walked over to the bed to her travel case.
He had every intention of behaving like a gentleman, but, well…he couldn’t help it once he heard the rustle of cloth and the whisper of skin as his wife undressed. Flinging his head around, he snuck a glance. He started at the tempting sight of her corseted body and the flare of her hips as she dropped her skirt in a pool of dark cloth at her feet.
I would not be bad for assisting her…I have the right as husband, after all.
With a slow grin, he stood and faced Rowena.
Chapter 7
Allow me to help you.” The soft words, deep and rich in that Scottish lilt, heated her blood.
Excitement flooded her and butterflies stormed through her stomach as she glanced at Quinn over her shoulder and shivered. She’d imagined this night a hundred times, how he might come to her, how it would go. She never dreamed he would offer to undress her. She’d always assumed she would have had a maid undress her and then she’d wait in her bed with nothing but a shift on. After that…well, she knew the basics of lovemaking thanks to her mother’s explanations, but there was still so much she didn’t know. When to kiss him…or was he the one to start the kissing…How was she to know what to do and when? Suddenly the flood of questions made her anxious and she twined her hands fretfully. Her heart beat harder and she licked her lips as she tried to calm herself.
Her body hungered for his in ways she still didn’t fully understand, but she had to slow things today and find a way to enjoy tonight without rushing it. She wanted him to feel good that he’d chosen her as his bride, that she was a worldly and sensual woman, unafraid of their marriage bed.
“Would that be proper?” She was half teasing as she spun slowly to face him.
The wicked gleam mixed with primal hunger in his eyes erased all thoughts of any further teasing. Shyness crept in then, and her previous boldness seemed to fade. Perhaps she was supposed to do something, or say something…Did he really wish to undress her? What if he saw her body and did not like it? Shame heated her as that thought took hold. What if she wasn’t beautiful or desirable in the way he’d hoped?
“Whatever you’re thinking, lass, stop.” His husky whisper sent riotous shivers through her. “This will be good between us, I promise you.”
Good between us…She wanted that so much, not simply on a physical level but on an emotional one too. She wanted him to be happy with her, to enjoy being her husband both in bed and out.
For a moment they simply stared at one another before he stepped close to her, hands gripping her waist as he turned her around. Rowena trembled and held her breath as he plucked gently at the laces of her corset. The barest, briefest touches of heat where his fingertips brushed her skin burned like wild fire. When the corset was loose enough, she wriggled it down her body, desperate to be free of it quickly. She let it drop to her feet before nudging it with one foot out of the way. Her hands trembled as she fought not to cover her nakedness. Surely he would be pleased with her…He would still want her, wouldn’t he?
“Lord, you’re lovely.” His voice was low and smooth like the Scotch they’d drunk earlier. Hearing him speak as he stood behind her was overwhelmingly erotic, her body humming. The flutter of nerves hadn’t vanished, but she was excited to be with him, to experience everything she could with him.
“So are you,” she replied, breathless.
His gaze raked over her body again and she saw the muscles of his shoulders tense as though he was struggling to stay in control. He removed their suitcases from the bed and set them on the floor. “Sit on the edge of the bed.”
She turned to face him and stepped back until she bumped into the bed and sat down. The quilted blankets beneath her hands were soft and warm, soaking up the heat from the fire. When Quinn knelt in front of her, she resisted the urge to touch the dark hair of his bowed head.
He lifted her feet one at a time, unlacing the boots before he slipped them off. She bit her lip, her heart racing as he cupped the heel of her bare foot and began to slide his hands up her leg to reach the hem of her stocking on her upper thigh.
He toyed with the lace garter with his fingertips, her breath catching before he slowly peeled the stocking from her leg, the fabric whispering off her skin, which was ablaze with the touch of his hand. As the first stocking fell from her toes, he landed a kiss on the top of her foot. Her entire body tingled with that single kiss. He smiled up at her before carefully repeating the process with her other foot.
“Scoot back a wee bit, love,” he whispered huskily, and she scooted farther onto the middle of the bed.
“Very good,” he praised. “Lie back.” He was staring at her lap and she blushed, but stretched out.
She stared up at the ceiling, her heart racing, her body flushing with a wave of heat as his hands moved up her bare legs, pushing up the thin chemise. Cool air touched her between her thighs as he nudged her legs apart.
What was he going to—
Rowena gasped as he kissed her inner thigh. She panicked and tried to close her legs but he kept them open.
“Quinn, what—”
“Shh…” he whispered against her sensitive skin. “’Tis your first time. This will ease you, relax you for me.”
Struggling to understand what he meant, she whimpered in pleasure and shock as his mouth touched her there. His tongue traced the sensitive folds and delved into her. Little pangs of pleasure so sharp they hurt spiked thr
ough her at every little lick of Quinn’s tongue. The bedding wrinkled as she dug her nails into it, trying to find something to grasp so she didn’t float away on the slowly building sense of bliss she knew was within reach.
Her chest heaved as she found it harder and harder to breathe, the sensual torture and the need for something almost at her fingertips…
His lips fastened onto the sensitive bud and she cried out as an explosion rippled through her. Her inner walls clamped down, but she still felt empty. She needed more; it wasn’t enough.
Quinn rose to his feet and stripped out of his clothes. Rowena lay still, naked from the waist down, trying to recover her breath when she caught sight of her husband completely bare. The muscles she’d known were beneath his clothes were now exposed. He was no slender English aristocrat. He was all Scot, brawn and muscle with a hint of sunlight kissing his skin even in the winter. Her belly quivered in heady anticipation as she let her gaze drop below his waist. A thin, dark trail started a few inches below his navel and moved down to his groin.
He was large. Too large. He would not fit inside her…
“Easy, lass,” he murmured as he came toward the bed.
Rowena scooted up to sit on the bed and swallowed.
“No need to be nervous,” he teased as he reached for her chemise, the last bit of her clothes hiding her.
“Are all men as large as you?” she whispered, ducking her head to hide her flaming face.
“No,” he chuckled. “And you honor me with such a compliment.” He lifted the chemise off and tossed it to the floor. Then he pressed on her shoulders, urging her to lie on the bed again. She did so, but her entire body trembled. Quinn lay down beside her and propped his head on one hand as he gazed down at her.
“We have all night, and we won’t do anything until you’re ready,” he said, and then bent his head, kissing her.
It was the sort of kiss that made a woman lose herself in dreams of warm fires and happy memories of being…loved. There was nothing selfish in his kiss. He gave himself over to the passion and to her. The barriers she knew he tried to keep in place were down for the moment. She reached up and cupped his jaw. A faint scrape of a nightbeard was forming and she nearly smiled. It would be like this every night. He would come to bed and she would kiss him, just like this. He would briefly open his eyes and she would marvel at the way the gray of his irises would change in the glow of candlelight.
One of Quinn’s hands settled on her opposite hip, then slid slowly north, cupping her breast. When his thumb brushed over one nipple, she arched into the exciting caress. He rubbed her nipple in little teasing motions before gently squeezing. She moaned against his lips and flicked her tongue against his.
“My brave, bold lass.” He nuzzled her cheek, their faces touching nose to nose before he slid down her body to where his face was level with her breasts.
When he closed his lips around one sensitive peak, she sucked in a breath and tugged at his hair. The sensation of him sucking at her made her body melt inside and wet heat pooled between her thighs. He moved to her other breast, lavishing the same attentions upon it before he slid back up her body and used one of his knees to part her legs. She had to make herself relax as he settled between her thighs.
He kissed her once more, sweetly, as he lifted his hips and she felt his hand between their bodies. Then he pushed into her, hard. The flash of pain was unexpected but still sharp enough that it stole her breath. Quinn lowered himself fully on top of her.
“Easy,” he whispered in her ear. He nipped the lobe and she shivered, her inner walls tightening around him. He groaned in response.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked in a frantic whisper.
Quinn choked. “No, it feels good. You feel good.” He smiled and kissed her.
The passion between them flared anew and she let go of the pain and her fears and gave herself over to the moment. She only noticed that he had started to move again when her body began to hum with pleasure. His shaft stretched her, almost too tight, but when he withdrew, she wrapped her arms around his hips, urging him to thrust back in. He was gentle at first, but the more she raised her hips, the deeper he sank into her and the quicker he moved. Finally he began to pound into her and she threw her head back, stars dotting her vision as he claimed her completely. The harsh sound of their breaths, the slide and smack of skin, and the burst of glorious pleasure could have lasted forever. When it finally faded, Rowena sank back down onto the bed with a weary sigh. Her body was limp and loose. Quinn lay above her, like a heavy warm masculine blanket. Their breath mingled and their bodies were still fused together.
Heaven…being with Quinn had been an exquisite heaven she never could have thought existed.
“That was wonderful, Quinn, more wonderful than I could have ever imagined. Was it good for you too?” She brushed the backs of her fingers over his cheek. His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes.
“’Twas wonderful,” he agreed solemnly.
He held on to her, his hands firm and tight as though she might vanish, but she wasn’t going to; she wanted to stay right here with him. Finally he lifted his head. When their gazes met, an anxious knot formed in Rowena’s stomach. Pain and hollowness were flashing in his eyes, like a lighthouse waving ships away from the shore.
“Quinn, what’s the matter?” She hated how her eyes burned with traitorous tears, but she knew something was wrong.
Her husband rolled off her and sat up on the side of the bed, burying his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped.
“You’d best get some sleep.” He reached behind him and flung a blanket toward her.
Startled, Rowena caught it and covered her suddenly chilly body.
Quinn stood and retrieved his smallclothes from the floor and put them on before he turned back to the bed. His focus was anywhere but on her as he extinguished the gas lamps and helped her under the blankets.
The bed was too small for them not to touch, and Rowena had to curl against him. As darkness settled around them, she felt tears rise in her eyes. Grateful he could not see, she buried her face in the softness of her pillow, soaking it with tears. She couldn’t let him know how much he’d hurt her by his sudden emotional distance. The stress and exhaustion from the day finally caught up with her and she surrendered to sleep, praying tomorrow would be a better day.
* * *
Quinn held his breath as he listened to Rowena cry herself to sleep. He felt the little tremors of her body and with the barest hint of moonlight from their room’s one window, he’d seen the tempting curve of one bare, feminine shoulder as it trembled.
She’d been charming, sweet, and all too seductive tonight. It was everything he loved in a woman, but after Maura had died, he’d vowed he wouldn’t allow himself to feel that way again. He could enjoy sex, but he didn’t want to fall in love and feel that pure sense of wonder at being connected so intimately with another person. His one joy in life aside from Blair was gone. He wasn’t allowed a second chance. Life was not so forgiving as that.
Hours later he was still awake when Rowena shifted in her sleep, a soft little whimper escaping her. The pitiful sound tore at his heart. He reached for her purely on instinct and tucked her body so it fit into the protective curve of his own. Her muscles relaxed and she sighed, rolling over to face him as she did so. The silken tendrils of her hair caressed one of his arms, enticing with its softness.
His heart was torn in half. One part of him wished that the woman in his arms were someone else, the one he’d lost. The other half of him knew he was warming up to this young Englishwoman who’d been brave enough to leave her world behind for his.
She was so unlike Maura. She was short where Maura had been tall, her hair light like Blair’s, whereas Maura’s had been a dark red-gold. They did have one thing in common, though. They were both brave.
Quinn could still see Maura’s pale face, tight with pain. The way she’d clutched his hand, the candles at her bedside fluttering in the dar
k as she struggled to breathe. Her last words were burned like a branding iron’s mark upon his soul.
“I’m sorry, Quinn.” For leaving him and Blair alone. As she’d drawn her last breath, his heart had turned to stone. It was the only way to stop the bleeding he’d felt inside. It was as though the part of Maura he’d held in his heart had been cut out. The pain too great, his loss too deep.
And here I am, with another. Not once during the moment of passion he’d shared with Rowena had he thought of Maura. Had he betrayed her memory? The question went unanswered and it continued to echo inside him. He prayed that marrying Rowena was not a mistake. If it was, it was too late to undo. But how was he to go on? He needed to keep his distance. He could not let himself be lost to passion, not again, because if he did, he might come to love her. And if he lost her to illness or childbirth too…
Quinn shuddered, and it made Rowena stir restlessly beside him. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 8
Rowena knew the next morning that what little ground she’d gained in the battle for Quinn’s heart had been lost. Whatever he’d felt last night after their lovemaking, that mixture of melancholy and distance had returned. She’d woken to him already awake and dressed. He packed their bags with barely a word, and when a light breakfast was brought up, he did not even smile at her when she tried to smile at him.
Dressing in almost complete silence, she merely had to turn her back to him once and say his name in order for him to lace up her corset. He was quick and efficient this time, not like last night when he’d been gentle, slow, and seductive as he’d pulled the laces loose. He did not linger in his caresses or his attentions. She ate quickly and followed him to the waiting car, where a young man had loaded their luggage while she tried to ignore the ache in her chest.