Logan wore a kilt in the black and green Kinross tartan, with a tight-fitting dark green jacket and a tartan cape draped over his left shoulder. His dark hair was brushed back from his face, and from the first moment Juliana caught sight of him standing at the altar waiting for her, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
He didn’t smile as he watched her coming toward him, but those blue, blue eyes took in every inch of her, lingering on her muslin-draped curves. When she took her place beside him at the altar and his gaze met hers, Juliana would have sworn he caught his breath. It was one of the few moments that stood out for her in what was otherwise a confusing blur.
There’d been a late supper. Not a wedding supper—there hadn’t been time for Mrs. Craig to prepare such an extravagant meal, but she had made one sweet especially for Juliana.
Cranachan.
Juliana glanced shyly at Logan when the dainty glass dish was set before her. He was looking down at her, an uncertain smile on his lips. “It’s not proper cranachan without the raspberries, but since it’s our wedding supper I persuaded Mrs. Craig to make do with gooseberries instead.”
Juliana’s eyes widened. “You asked her to make this for me?”
A faint flush rose on his cheekbones. “I did say I couldn’t let you leave Scotland without trying it.”
Juliana picked up the dish and turned it this way and that, admiring the bright red berries drowning in generous drifts of cream. “You also said you’d earn a clout to the head if you asked for cranachan with gooseberries.”
“My right ear is still ringing.” Logan nodded at her dish. “Taste it.”
Juliana loaded her spoon with gooseberries, cream, and toasted oats, and slipped it between her lips. The taste of tart berries and rich, sweet honey and cream exploded on her tongue, and her eyes slid closed. “Oh, my goodness.” It was thick and smooth and crunchy at once, with a little bite from the whisky that lingered on her tongue.
When she opened her eyes again, Logan was watching her. His lips were parted, and the look in his eyes…Juliana’s body flushed with heat, and all at once she became very aware tonight was her wedding night.
Logan cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice was still thick, husky. “Do you like it?”
He was staring down at her, his hot blue eyes darting between her eyes and her lips. As always, once he caught her gaze, Juliana couldn’t look away. She swallowed. “I—yes. Very much. It’s, ah…well, I’ve always been fond of gooseberries.”
His lips curved in a slow smile, his dark blue gaze darting to her mouth. “Such a pretty red, and tart and sweet at once.”
Juliana caught her breath. Were they still talking about berries?
She didn’t dare look at him again after that, but she could feel him beside her, his powerful body thrumming with the tension that snapped and hummed between them.
The supper courses came and went. Then, before she was prepared for what came next, it was over. Emilia rose from her seat and motioned to Juliana to withdraw and leave the gentlemen alone with their port. Juliana rose unsteadily and followed Emilia out of the dining room. Once they reached the hallway, Emilia took her by the hand and led her up to the family wing of the house.
Not to her own bedchamber, but to Logan’s.
“Here are a few of your things.” Emilia waved a hand toward a massive mahogany dressing table. “Everything else is already packed, but I had my maid gather what I thought you’d need for tonight and bring it here for you.”
“Thank you.” Juliana wandered over to the dressing table. Her brush, comb, and silver mirror had been laid neatly across the top. She took up the brush and was absently stroking her fingers across the bristles when something else caught her attention.
A sheer white night rail and matching dressing gown were draped over the back of the chair.
Her gaze collided with Emilia’s. Her friend smiled, and came closer to take her hands. “This is a trifle awkward, but I did think I should…I wanted to ask if you…I know your mother died when you were very young, and it did occur to me you might not know—”
“It’s all right, Emilia. My sister-in-law Emma spoke to me about it, after she and my brother Jonathan were married.” It had been a brief enough conversation, Juliana being unwilling to pry into the intimate details of her brother’s marriage, but she knew enough to understand the basic mechanics of the thing.
Anything beyond that, well…she’d soon find out, wouldn’t she?
Emilia blew out a relieved breath. “Thank goodness. Shall I help you undress, or send for one of the maids?”
“No, no maid.” Juliana was already nervous enough. The last thing she needed was a maid hovering about. “If you could just unfasten the row of buttons down my back and unlace me, I’m sure I can manage from there.”
Emilia obliged, then took Juliana by the shoulders and turned her around so they were facing each other. “The wedding gown suits you. I knew I’d made the right decision persuading you to wear it. You looked beautiful this evening, Juliana. Logan thought so, too. I could see it in his face when he looked at you.”
Juliana drew in a shaky breath, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Emilia’s cheek. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me, Emilia. You can’t know how much I…I never hoped to have another friend as dear to me as my late sister-in-law was, yet here you are.”
Emilia’s pretty blue eyes shone. “We’re sisters now, or nearly so. It’s all going to come right between you and Logan, Juliana. I know it is.” Emilia squeezed her hands once last time, and then she was gone.
The room felt empty and quiet after she left.
Juliana turned in a circle, unsure what to do.
What did a bride do on her wedding night, while she waited alone in her new husband’s bedchamber for him to join her? She didn’t have an answer, so she wandered about aimlessly for a bit, until she found herself back at the dressing table.
The night rail—yes, she’d change into that. Logan could walk in at any moment, and she’d just as soon be prepared when he arrived. She stepped carefully out of her wedding gown and petticoat, slipped out of her corset, then paused, unsure what to do next.
Was she meant to wear her chemise under the night rail? It seemed silly, given that Logan would remove whatever she was wearing. Unless…would he remove it? Or was the thing meant to be done quickly, without removing one’s clothing?
She didn’t know! It was too late to ask Emilia now, so she’d simply have to do what she thought best, and hope it was the right thing.
She dragged her chemise over her head and hurried into the night rail, but when she caught sight of herself in the dressing table mirror, she gasped. Dear God, she could see right through it! It was so thin and sheer she could see the curves of her breasts, the darker pink of her nipples, and even the shadow between her…
Juliana snatched up the matching dressing gown. She tugged it on, wrapped it tightly around her body and studied herself in the mirror. It was a bit better, but the dressing gown was as sheer as the night rail. It didn’t hide her curves so much as reveal glimpses of them, half-hidden under two entirely insufficient layers of fabric.
Very well, then. She’d wait for Logan in the bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin. Climbing boldly into his bed made her nearly as anxious as the night rail did, but it was better than standing nearly stark naked in the middle of his bedchamber.
She rushed to the dressing table and snatched the pins from her hair, then hurried through an arched doorway, hoping to find the bed on the other side of it.
She found it, and the sight of it brought her to an abrupt halt.
It was enormous.
Juliana stared at it in dismay. Four massive posts rose from each corner. They were so tall they nearly met the ceiling, and sumptuous dark green silk hung from a heavy, carved wood canopy. It was gigantic, imposing, aggress
ively masculine, and so high she’d need a step stool to get into it.
Either that, or a running start.
She was still staring at the bed, biting her lip and debating whether or not she should drag the dressing table chair over when she heard the outer door open behind her.
“Juliana?”
Logan’s deep voice sent a shiver up her spine. “I’m in here,” she called, then cringed at the telltale squeak in her voice.
She heard some rustling from the other side of the door, then Logan’s footsteps drawing closer. “Are you—” he began, but then trailed off with a rough breath.
Juliana turned to find him standing in the doorway. He’d already removed the tartan cape, his jacket and his cravat. That alone would have been enough to disconcert her, but it was the look on his face that made her eyes go wide.
He was staring at her, naked heat in his blue gaze. He’d looked at her with desire before, but this…
Juliana swallowed. He looked as if he wanted to drag her to the bed and devour her as if she were a dish of cranachan. Why was he—
Oh, no. He could see the outline of her body through the dratted night rail! The candlelight behind her was shining through the fragile muslin, revealing every curve and hollow.
Scalding heat washed over her cheeks and neck. She snatched at the edges of the dressing gown to wrap it more tightly around her, but Logan’s husky voice stopped her.
“Don’t.”
She froze, her fingers twisted in the sheer fabric.
He came across the room and stopped in front of her. “There’s no need for you to be shy, mo bhean. I’m your husband now, and I think you’re…” He glanced down her body, and his throat moved in a rough swallow. “Àlainn. Beautiful.”
“You do?”
He laughed softly and reached out to drag a finger over the narrow band of ribbon at her neckline. “I didn’t think I’d been subtle about it, but you sound surprised.”
He continued to stroke that finger over her, the tip of it brushing against her skin. Juliana’s breath quickened, and her eyelids became so heavy they sank to half-mast. She wouldn’t have thought such a big, powerful man could touch her so gently.
“Get in the bed,” he murmured. “I’ll join you there in a—”
“No. I can’t.”
Logan had been gazing down at her with sleepy eyes, but that made him frown. “You can’t? We talked about this, Juliana. The marriage isn’t legal unless we consummate it.”
“No, no, it’s not that. I mean…it’s too high.” She waved a hand toward the bed, her cheeks heating. “It looks like it was made for a giant.”
Logan’s lips curved. “My wee wife.”
Juliana let out a relieved breath. That smile, the glint of humor in his blue eyes—this was the Logan she knew, the man she’d begun to trust. “I’m not wee, though I confess I could use a little help getting—” She gasped as Logan slid an arm across her back, another under her knees and swept her up into his arms. “Logan!”
“You are wee, but I don’t mind.” He carried her to the bed, his chest and shoulder muscles shifting against her as he lay her gently on her back.
He stood for a moment, gazing down at her. “Fhìnealta. Uaine air leth-shùil bòcan,” he murmured, his blue eyes glowing.
Juliana didn’t know what that meant, but the look in his eyes when he said it…
She tried not to sigh.
He’d said he’d join her in a moment, so Juliana thought he’d leave her there while he went off to do some mysterious bridegroom preparations, but to her surprise he stretched out on the bed beside her.
When he moved closer and draped an arm over her waist, Juliana’s nerves came roaring back. The next thing she knew, she was babbling. “I thought you wanted to…what I mean is, didn’t you say you—”
“Juliana.” He pressed a finger to her lips to quiet her.
His blue eyes roamed over her face. He paused at her mouth, seeming fascinated by the sight of his fingers against her lips. He stroked her with a fingertip, tugging gently on her lower lip, opening it for him.
Then…then he kissed her. He was careful with her, his mouth sweet and gentle against hers. One kiss blended into the next until Juliana couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. Then, when he parted her lips with his tongue, she stopped thinking altogether.
His kisses were slow, drugging—more seductive than anything she’d ever felt. He kissed her until she went boneless against the bed, her limbs heavy with a delicious languor. He kissed her until she was arching against him, her fingers frantically tugging at his hair, the sound of her own panting breaths echoing in her head.
This was what she’d been so nervous about? Why, it was glorious! She couldn’t get enough of his kisses, his caressing fingers. She whimpered when he dragged a hand down her neck and pressed his lips to her throat. She needed to bring him closer, as close as she could get him…
When she thought it over later that night, she couldn’t pinpoint the moment when things started to go wrong. By the time she realized it was happening, it was already too late to stop it. One moment Logan was kissing her and her head was dizzy with wonder and desire, and the next…
Cold air rushed over her skin. Logan had dragged her night rail over her head, and the chill had been just startling enough to remind her she’d never been unclothed in front of a man before, much less one who was intimately touching her. His body felt enormous against hers, his weight heavy, the smattering of crisp dark hair on his chest surprising her. It tickled her breasts, and she stiffened slightly. It wasn’t unpleasant, just…strange.
“Juliana?” Logan pulled back, concerned.
Juliana laid a hand on his cheek and brought his mouth back to hers. He’d soon kissed her into quivering, needy mindlessness again, and things might have gone on well enough from there, but then he’d put his hand in a place where no man’s hand had ever been. It was a place a husband might be expected to put his hand, but she’d tensed again, and this time Logan went still above her.
“So small…don’t want to hurt you.” He tried a second time, gently probing with his fingers, but he soon withdrew his hand again. “Not ready for me,” he muttered, his breath harsh against her neck.
Not ready? She was naked and lying beneath him. What else was required?
She was doing something wrong, and it must be terribly wrong indeed, because Logan was drawing away from her. Did he not intend to consummate the marriage, then? The thought threw her into a sudden panic, and misgivings careened wildly through her head. Doubts flooded her, each more disordered than the last, but there was only one that made her gasp with pain.
Alison McLaren. Logan was in love with Alison, so in love he couldn’t take his own wife…
Before she knew what she was about she was clutching at him, wrapping her limbs around him and whispering at him to finish it—to take her. She squirmed beneath him, urging him on until at last he pushed inside her with a defeated groan.
There was pain—ripping, wrenching, stinging pain, so acute she lost her breath for a moment. Logan made a tortured sound, hot, sticky warmth gushed between her legs, and then…
It was over.
They didn’t speak afterwards. He didn’t leave her, but it was as if an invisible line had been drawn down the center of the bed. Logan kept to his side, and she kept to hers. She wanted to say something to him, but she was too busy struggling with her own discomfort to think of a word to say to ease his.
How had things gone so wrong?
She’d been nervous, yes. That was to be expected. But Logan had been nervous as well, and she hadn’t expected that. Surely, he’d had dozens of women before? He was strong, handsome, and irresistible when he smiled, but he’d been so hesitant, almost as if he were afraid to touch her. Somehow, they’d gone from those sweet, drugging kisses to painful s
elf-consciousness, and then, that bit at the very end…
Juliana wasn’t so innocent she hadn’t known it would be painful.
For her, that is.
She hadn’t thought it would be painful for him, but there’d been no mistaking his look of anguish when he jerked away from her. And then there’d been so much blood. Even now she could feel it coating her thighs.
But for better or worse, it was done. They’d consummated the marriage, and now she could put the entire business out of her mind. But even as she tried to reassure herself, Juliana knew there was no putting that out of her mind. There was no looking her husband in the eye now, either.
She lay awake all night, listening to him breathing. Part of her wanted him to try and make love to her again, but he didn’t.
He remained on his side of the bed, and she remained on hers, staring up at the massive carved canopy above her, wondering where they’d go from here.
Chapter Seventeen
The room was dark when Logan woke the next morning. He reached out a cautious hand, expecting his palm to meet warm flesh, but Juliana’s side of the bed was empty.
He came fully awake with a start. Memories of the night before assaulted him, and he dragged his hands down his face with a groan. Jesus. He couldn’t have made more of a mess of things if he’d tried.
It was early still—so early the servant hadn’t yet appeared to tend to the fire. He threw the covers back, swung his legs over the side of the bed and went to the window, snatching the drapes aside. Just enough light spilled in for Logan to see the bedclothes on Juliana’s side of the bed had been neatly arranged, and her pillow plumped and smoothed.
But there was no sign of Juliana. He padded out into the other room in his bare feet, hoping to find her there, but the room was empty.
His wife was gone.
The house was dark and still, the sun had yet to peek over the horizon, and his wife was nowhere in sight. Logan wandered back to the bed and sank down onto the edge of it, uncertain what to do.
To Wed A Wild Scot Page 20