by Amanda Scott
“We ha’ done it, Catriona,” Claud said with satisfaction as, from the laird’s peek, he watched Molly and the laird hurry from the hall, then past them and on up the spiral stairs. “The Circle canna say now I were wrong tae put them together, no when Kintail and my lady be married and all. Art pleased wi’ me, lass?” he asked, moving to put his arm around Catriona, who had watched the proceedings with him. Now, he thought, perhaps he could spend more time alone with her.
As his hand brushed her shoulder, however, he realized that she was getting to her feet. “Come on, Claud,” she said. “I want to see what happens above.”
“But, Catriona—!”
He spoke to air. She was already flitting up the stairway.
Chapter 15
Nervous and unusually aware of Kintail behind her as she hurried up the stairs, Molly gripped her skirts in one hand and the stiff oiled-rope banister in the other. Even so, her steps were uncertain and she felt dizzy and out of breath.
Over her shoulder, she said, “I… I wanted to tell you that I didn’t think I could go through with that dreadful bedding ceremony.” When she nearly tripped on the step before the landing, she added, “Faith, but the wine must have been unusually potent. It seems to have gone straight to my—”
Her last sentence ended in a shriek as, without a word, he scooped her up from behind and carried her to his bed-chamber, managing the door latch easily despite his burden, and nudging the door open with a foot. The mixed emotions that had been building all day overwhelmed her, and she did not say another word.
A warm, orange-and-yellow glow greeted them from the cozy fire crackling in the fireplace and from candles burning in sconces on two walls. The window curtains were closed, but those on the bed were not. The oblong tub sat where it had the day she had surprised Kintail with Patrick’s sister, Bab, and in that first instant she assumed its presence meant that Kintail had bathed before the wedding and someone had forgotten to empty the tub. She was thus surprised to see steam rising from the water. More steam rose from a kettle hanging on the swey over the fire.
She had only a moment to take it all in before Kintail set her down and stood gazing at her. For a moment, she thought he might be experiencing the same sense of disorientation that she felt, but she dismissed that thought the moment it formed. He was too large, too vital, too decisive, and much too sure of himself to be concerned at such a moment about what might happen next.
She looked searchingly into his eyes. A reflection of the firelight danced there, making them gleam, but firelight was not responsible for the hunger she saw, a hunger that made her body hum with nervous anticipation.
He reached out and touched the left side of her face, slowly stroking her cheek and then the line of her jaw with one finger.
His hand was warm, the fingertip slightly rough against her skin.
Gently, he said, “Have you any notion of how beautiful you are?”
The world righted itself, and she said with an unexpected chuckle, “Now, how am I supposed to answer that? If I say ‘yes,’ you will think me conceited. If I say ‘no,’ you will think me insipid.”
“Never insipid, lass,” he said, his voice low and vibrant. “Many other things, perhaps, but not that.”
His hand slid around to grasp the back of her neck.
She smiled shyly, watching his expression for a hint as to what he would do next, and when he just smiled, she said, “Should I know what to do now, sir?”
“Do you know what men and women do when they bed, lass?”
“Aye, somewhat,” she said, feeling fire in her cheeks. “It is like… like horses and such, is it not?”
He chuckled. “I promise you, I’ll try to behave in a more civilized fashion than any stallion at rut.”
A rap at the door startled them both, but Kintail smiled reassuringly at her and said, “Enter.”
Mauri breezed in, carrying a pewter goblet. “Good,” she said, looking around the room with a critical expression. “I see they ha’ prepared the tub for ye, mistress.” Casting a pointed look at Kintail, she added, “Laird, they forgot the cold-water pail. Would ye shout at someone, or better still, go yourself to fetch it? If ye shout, you’ll likely ha’ that lot below up here demanding a proper bedding.”
Kintail shook his head, still smiling. He said only, “What is in the goblet?”
“Just a wee posset o’ warm wine and milk,” Mauri said, eyeing him warily now. “I… I thought that a bath and a warm drink would help the mistress relax after such a… a long day. I can help her undress whilst ye’re below.”
“Leave the goblet,” he said, “but take yourself off. I’ll help with her bath.”
“But the water still be too hot!”
“Then we’ll think of some way to pass the time whilst it cools,” he said. Shooting an oblique, teasing look at Molly, he added, “I don’t think I dare trust my bride yet with a bucket of cold water in my bedchamber.”
Molly knew she was still blushing, and Mauri hesitated, looking from her to Kintail. When he frowned, Mauri yielded.
“Very well, then,” she said, shooting a sympathetic look at Molly.
When the door had shut behind her, Molly drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She is just trying to be kind, sir.”
“She’s being a damned nuisance,” he retorted. “Art nervous, lass?”
“Aye,” she said honestly. “You do fill a room.”
“I expect I do,” he said, grinning. Then, he turned his head sharply.
“What is it?” she asked.
“My mind playing tricks,” he said. “I thought I saw movement toward that window, but there is no one here but us, so let’s get your clothes off and get you into that tub. I’ve never played maidservant before, but I believe I can learn.”
Feeling uncharacteristically bashful, Molly wanted to tell him she had bathed before the wedding and that she would prefer to have Doreen or Mauri help her if he expected her to bathe again before bed (although surely, one would have heard of such a strange custom if it existed). But she knew where her duty lay, and she still felt the weight of the priest’s numerous exhortations regarding wifely obedience. Moreover, Kintail seemed different in this mood, less intimidating.
When he turned her around to remove her garland and kirtle and loosen her lacing, she remained as he placed her, but her heart pounded so hard and fast that she wondered why they could not both hear it. Her bodice laces were quickly loosened, and the ties of her skirt yielded similarly to his deft fingers. In moments, the lovely pale blue gown lay in a heap on the floor, decked by myriad blue and silver ribbons and Molly’s garland, and she stood in only her shift. He pulled her back against him, his hands gently cupping her breasts from behind. She felt his warmth through the thin material of her shift.
“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck until she felt his lips caress her, sending fire through her body. His right hand tensed on her breast.
She had trouble finding her voice. “Is… is something wrong?”
He chuckled, and his breath ticked the back of her neck, firing tremors of heat to her midsection and lower. “Touching you makes me tingle,” he said.
“M-me, too,” she said.
He held her against him, stroking one bare arm lightly, then more firmly, before his fingers moved toward her breasts again.
“What of your clothing?” she asked hoarsely.“Does only the bride take off her clothes?”
He chuckled again, put both hands firmly on her shoulders, and turned her to face him. “Do you want to take a bath or not?”
“Not,” she said. “I bathed before the wedding. Mauri knew that, too,” she added. “She cannot have been thinking only that I might be nervous. She must have worried that I might be afraid.”
“Are you afraid?” he demanded. “Tell me truly now, lass.”
She considered the question seriously for a long moment, then said, “I don’t think so. I am a little nervous, perhaps, but all brides must be nerv
ous.”
“Then suppose I put you in bed with Mauri’s posset to sip whilst I get out of my clothing. You can play maidservant to me another night.”
Without waiting for a reply, he picked her up again, shift and all, and although the bed was but a few steps away, he carried her there.
“But this is excellent,” Catriona said, settling her slender but enticingly curvaceous body comfortably against the cushion in the window embrasure. “We can watch everything from here.”
“I dinna think we should be here,” Claud protested, unable to take his eyes off her despite his concerns. “It isna proper.”
“I do not care,” she said, patting the place beside her invitingly. “I want to see, and after all, if Kintail had not forbidden all others to come, his bedding would have had a much larger audience.”
“Aye, but he did forbid it,” Claud reminded her.
“You may leave if you think you are intruding. Of course, if you do, I probably shall not speak to you for days,” she added, stroking his upper thigh.
“Catriona,” Claud groaned.
“Hush,” she said. “Watch now. Why is he just standing there by the bed, holding her? Does the great daffy not know what to do next?”
Kintail had reached the bed and was about to set Molly down when he paused, stiffening, suddenly alert.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I thought I heard voices,” he said, looking around as if he expected to see someone step forth from the shadows.
They both remained silent for a time, but in the flickering light, only the shadows moved, and all Molly could hear was the crackling of the fire.
“Mayhap Mauri is returning,” she said.
“She would not dare.”
“Then your friends. Mightn’t they dare?”
“Doubtless it was just my imagination,” he said, setting her gently on the bed where she could lean back against the pillows. Then, fetching the pewter goblet, he handed it to her, saying, “Don’t drink that too fast now.”
She sipped, watching him strip off his clothing, aware that he, too, was accustomed to having a servant help him, but his movements were deft and sure. That he was in a hurry was plain. He cast off the last article of clothing and turned toward the bed.
Molly stared.
“Oh, good, very good, indeed,” Catriona said, sitting up straighter and removing her hand from Claud’s thigh.
Hearing such a strong note of approval in her tone, Claud wandered if she were wishing that she could bed the huge man rather than himself.
“He’s all right, I guess,” he said with a glance, “for a mortal.”
“All right?” She did not so much as flick her intense gaze away from Kintail. “The man is magnificent!”
Fin stopped in midstride, certain that this time he had heard voices, a female and a male. They seemed to float on the air from nowhere in particular, but glancing at his bride, he could see no sign that she had heard them.
She was staring at him, round-eyed, and he could not blame her for that. Even if she had seen a naked man before, she probably had never seen one in his present state of lust, a state, admittedly, that had slackened at the sound of the voices but was improving again rapidly with each second that he feasted his eyes on her enticing beauty.
With one candle alight on a nearby chest and the fire’s diminishing glow to guide him, he moved to the bed, took the goblet from her, and set it on the chest beside the candle. Then, pulling back the coverlet, he resisted the temptation just to stand and gaze at her and slid gently in beside her, gathering her into his arms.
“I am going to take off your shift,” he murmured a few moments later, reaching for it. “I want to kiss you all over.”
“All over?” she sounded half intrigued, half fearful, as she wriggled helpfully, shifting her weight to make it easier for him to take off the thin garment.
“Aye,” he said, casting it aside without a thought as to where it might fall. “Mind you, lass, my body is telling me to take you swiftly and be done with it, but I’d like you to know some pleasure, too.”
“Pleasure?” She seemed surprised.
“Aye, like this,” he said, beginning to caress her body from tip to toe with his lips and hands. As he moved upward again, intending to savor her full, soft breasts with his lips, he had to fight a renewed urge to take her swiftly. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, and the scent she used filled the air around them with its enticing aroma, filling his mind with delightful images of what lay ahead.
The soft glow of firelight made her body look golden, the tips of her breasts so inviting that he moved to take the right one between his lips. As he did, he cupped the breast in his hand, letting his fingertips stroke it gently as he focused his attention on the soft, berrylike nipple. Involved as he was, it took a moment to realize that his stroking fingertips had encountered something unusual.
Curious, he shifted his position so that light from the candle fell on her breast, and he saw then what his body’s shadow had hidden from him before. The oddly shaped mark was not as long as his little finger, but it was dark red, rippled, and slightly raised, a rough blemish on her otherwise perfect skin.
Gently, he touched it with one finger, stroking it lightly as he said, “This is an odd sort of a birthmark. I swear it makes my fingers tingle when I touch it.”
“It is not a birthmark,” she said. “The night Angus took me from Dunsithe, my mother marked me with a red-hot key.”
“Faith, what sort of mother would brand her own child?”
“She said that she did it so that people would always know me as the true Maid of Dunsithe,” she said with a grimace. Then, more cheerfully, she added, “Maggie says it will fade away to nothing in time, that such marks do.”
“Who is Maggie?”
After a momentary silence, she said, “Just someone who looked after me. Different people have done so, you know, for I was not yet six when they took me from my mother. Even before, I spent more time with my nurse than with her.”
“I think it is as well that I do not know your mother,” he said.
“I do not know her either,” she said. “I never saw her after I left Dunsithe.”
“Do you have any other memories of Dunsithe?” he asked. He had never thought to ask if she knew anything that might lead to finding her fortune. He wondered if anyone had ever asked her. Someone, sometime, must have said something, given her some clue to help her find it when the time came to do so.
“Why does he waste time talking?” Catriona demanded.
“Hush,” Claud said. “Listen.”
Remembering Kintail’s interest in her fortune and wondering how she had let herself forget why he had married her, Molly said bluntly, “Is it so important to talk now about Dunsithe?”
His attention had wandered, but he looked directly at her when she spoke and seemed to give himself a shake. His gaze held hers for a long moment before he said quietly, “It was but a topic of conversation, lass, nothing more. Let me see now. Where was I?”
His eyes twinkled then, teasing her, and she cast her worries aside.
“I think I’ll leave that to you to remember—if you can.”
“Oh, I certainly can,” he said, chuckling and reaching for her again.
Feeling Molly relax, Fin breathed a sigh of relief. The tension in her eyes had told him what she was thinking as clearly as if she had put it into words. He had been a fool to mention Dunsithe. He could not think what had come over him to do so at such a time as this, because her thoughts, like his, had naturally gone straight to her fortune.
Speaking of her mother had turned his thoughts to Dunsithe, of course, but the fortune was important only insofar as what he could achieve with it at Eilean Donan, and that was not anything he intended to discuss with her tonight.
He had heard the voices again, too. Only briefly, to be sure, but again just hearing them had been enough to divert his body’s interest from Molly. Still, when it happened bef
ore, it had not taken long to renew that interest, so he settled beside her again, saying lightly, “I think I was just about here when I stopped.”
Bending to her breast again, he stroked it gently, then took the nipple between his lips, sucking gently for a moment before he released it. Hearing her gasp, he looked into her face again and said with a smile, “Have I got it right?”
“Oh, yes! Should I not do something, too, to give you pleasure?”
“Not tonight,” he said, returning to his task. “Tonight, this gives me pleasure. Later, I will teach you other ways.” With his lips on her breast again, he focused on her reactions, using everything he knew to stir her passions until he had her gasping and writhing. At last, knowing the time was right, he eased himself over her.
“Now, it comes,” Catriona exclaimed with satisfaction. “Now, we shall see what he is truly made of, this mortal.”
“Catriona, hush!” Claud wailed.
“Stop telling me to hush!” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her tucked-up knees with her chin in her hands. Turning her head, she added, “Having small regard for human antics, I have not heeded the laird’s lusting before now, but I see that I should have. If he can keep this up, he has great potential.”
Claud sighed as she riveted her attention to the bed.
Hearing the voices again, and as clearly this time as if they were only a few feet away, Fin stopped what he was doing to look around the bedchamber. The dying fire cast flickering, dark shadows on the walls, but they were all that stirred. He could see nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly there was no hiding place large enough to contain a spy.
With a gasp of frustration, Molly said hoarsely, “Why did you stop?”
“Did you not hear them?” Fin felt himself wilting.
“Who?”
Realizing that she had no idea what had disturbed him, and fearing that she might begin to think him demented, he tried to regain his previous ardor, but no matter what he did, or how hard he tried to forget the voices, he continued to hear them. They were too faint to make out exact words, but the fact that he could hear them was enough. He could not concentrate, and his body refused to do its part.