Graham’s loudly worded admission initially felt rather like a punch to Isobel’s gut. He would never offer her love, only a tepid kind of caring. Fierce anger started to stir, but then she thought upon his words. He said that he could not stand the thought of her with another man, and by marrying her, she knew he had made his family unhappy, even though they had gained Brigid. Neither of those actions spoke of a man who only had mild feelings for a woman. Hope blossomed once more. Mayhap if she could learn what made him unwilling to lower his guard and give his heart, she could help him overcome it. If he could ever do so, then she could lower her own guard and they could quite possibly find true love and happiness.
She stole a glimpse at him from under her lashes, unsure what more to say. She couldn’t very well tell him that what he offered would do for now, or could she? Mayhap that was exactly what she needed to say—the truth. “That will do for now,” she said before the boldness coursing through her deserted her.
His eyes narrowed to hard slits, and she feared she had pushed him too far. But then he let out a bark of laughter. “Isobel, I admire verra much the way ye speak the truth.”
Pleasure filled her heart. “I did live in a nunnery,” she teased.
The dark look that crossed his face surprised her. “Aye, I remember what ye told me of yer time there and yer loneliness.”
She started to wrap her arms around her waist, as she used to do when alone because it had made her feel better, but Graham caught her arms with his hands and pulled her hard against his chest. “Ye are part of this clan now, so ye are nae alone.”
“I am a part, but I am nae,” she replied. “Lachlan and Iain dunnae trust me, and Lena despises me.”
“They will come to accept that ye are nae as yer siblings and father.”
Isobel’s chest tightened. “And if they dunnae, Graham? Would ye choose them over me?”
His jaw clenched. “I have already made a choice, Isobel. I married ye, and in doing so, I risked alienating my sister and incurring my brothers’ ire.”
“See?” she whispered. “Already a wall forms between us because of yer guilt.”
“Then let us breach the wall in the time we are in each other’s arms,” he replied and crushed his mouth to hers.
Desire jolted through her as he parted her lips with his tongue and delved inside her mouth to fully claim her. Whatever hesitation she’d had yielded to the moment of feeling protected, cherished, and as his body hardened against hers, wanted.
She quivered at the savage sweetness of his kiss, and her legs trembled, making her grasp his arms to hold herself up. But there was no need. The moment her hands touched his body, he slid an arm under her legs and around her waist, and lifted her up against his chest.
In two steps, he was at the bed, lowering her as he kissed her lips, her neck, and then lower to her chest. He lay her down gently, the soft blanket fluffing around her. He stood and looked down at her with tenderness in his eyes. “Ye take my breath, Isobel.”
It was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said to her. She moved to her knees, holding his burning gaze, and placed her hands on his chest. Underneath her fingertips, his heart beat rapidly. “Ye take mine, as well, Graham. I give to ye now my compliance,” she added, recalling his plea in the great hall.
He brought his hands to her hair and slowly, without speaking, unbound her braid, and slid his fingers into her tresses, starting at the base of her skull and then gently laying her hair over her shoulders. Her heartbeat soared with his touch, and when he set his hands to her waist and lifted her enough to tug her gown up and then deftly off, she shivered with anticipation and exposure. Though night had long since claimed the sky, moonlight bathed them both from the window and the fire lit the room, as well, making her aware he could see exactly how God had made her. For a long moment he stared at her, and it seemed to her, as he slowly roamed his gaze over her face and body, that he was memorizing the way she looked.
He traced his finger over one of her collarbones to the hollow space where her pulse beat and down between her breasts. Pleasure so intense pulsed through her and tightened her to the core. Then he trailed his finger slowly around one breast and then the other before cupping both reverently in his hands.
“Mo maise,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“I’m nae beautiful,” she replied without hesitation, having learned to reject arrogance after many lashes to her knuckles from Sister Beatrice.
His eyes hardened. “Aye,” he rebutted, kissing the tip of one breast and then the other, making her moan. “Ye are my beauty, mo nighean dubh.”
She smiled shyly. “I accept that I am yer dark-haired lass, but yer beauty—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he claimed her mouth once more, slanting an urgent kiss over it. She tasted his need and hot hunger, and she longed to please him, though she was not quite certain what to do. He broke the kiss, panting, and cupped her face. “Ye are mo maise and mo nighean dubh.”
“I want to please ye,” she blurted.
“A Dia, Isobel. Ye do so just standing here.”
“A Dia, Graham,” she replied, using his words of my God back to him. “I want to…I want to touch ye, but I dunnae ken the way.”
In a flash, he stripped to nothing but the body God had forged of steel. Her mouth went dry when she glimpsed all of him, and a bit of apprehension stole into her chest at how big he was. She barely resisted the urge to scramble away. He must have seen her fear, because he gently took her hand and guided it first to his chest, then over slab after slab of muscle, down, down to what made him a man.
He gently curled her fingers around him, the hotness of his skin shocking her. “Dunnae fash yerself, Isobel. God made yer body to fit with mine.” His voice was husky, the tone taut.
She nodded, gazing down at where she held him. With care, she moved her hand down the length of him, marveling at the way he hissed and seemed to grow larger when she did. “Ye like that?” she asked in surprise.
“I love it,” he assured her, “but if ye do that too much, I’ll nae be able to stop my response.”
She grinned, pleased to discover she had some power over this man, this warrior. “Show me,” she challenged.
“I will,” he panted, putting his hand over hers to stop, she supposed, the motion she had done again. “But later, mo maise. First, I will make ye mine in body.”
She cocked her head, feeling bold. “Ye can try.”
His hands came underneath her buttocks, hoisted her up off her feet, deftly spreading her legs wide, and slid her onto his waist, leaving her no choice but to wrap her arms and legs around his neck and torso. He kissed her mouth once more. “I welcome the challenge.”
Before she could calm her racing pulse to reply, he had her on her back on the bed and was looming over her. She’d never felt more exposed, excited, and scared in her life. As he lowered his body toward hers, she thought he would kiss her on the mouth again, but he brushed his lips against her neck, causing gooseflesh to race across her body. He feathered slow kisses down her neck to her right breast, and when he flicked his tongue out and licked her bud, she had to dig her nails into the blanket to keep from screaming with pleasure.
Her breasts immediately grew heavy, and the rush of heat between her legs shocked her. As he cupped her breast and took her nipple into his mouth and suckled, every muscle in her lower belly squeezed tight. This was sinful, she was sure, but she was equally sure she didn’t care. He circled his tongue around and around her sensitive flesh until she thought she would go mad with the aching sensations building within her. When he started to pull away, she delved her hands into his hair to keep him there.
A deep chuckle rumbled from him. “I’m glad ye like this, but it is only the beginning.”
“Then I dunnae believe I can bear the middle and the end,” she said, her voice not sounding like her own at all. It was huskier than she had ever heard it.
He moved to her other breast, circled the
bud several times, and said, “Ye will do more than bear it,” he promised and then fell silent as he gave the same attention to her left breast that he had given to her right. When he was finished, she was panting and her heart was pounding.
As he rose to his knees and gazed down at her, she thought he would now make her his, and her fear trickled in once more. She clenched her teeth, determined not to show it. Then tenderness filled his eyes, and he traced a finger over her jaw. Silently, he moved his hands to her legs and braced them against her thighs.
“Open yer legs for me, Isobel.”
She immediately complied to the gentle request, though her heart now raced from nervousness about the pain to come. He moved to a kneeling position between her legs, and as he looked down at her, he traced the delicate skin of her inner thighs. “I vow to ye, Isobel, I will nae join with ye until I’m certain ye’re ready. Ye dunnae need fear. The hurt will nae compare to the pleasure.” He placed a hand over her thudding heart. “Do ye trust me?”
She realized with a start that, in this, she did. Completely.
Quickly, she nodded. He smiled and slid his hand down her belly, making her quiver, and then down farther to directly between her legs. Suddenly, he lowered his head, and when his fingers gently separated the flesh of her womanhood, she tensed and then quickly tried to squeeze her thighs shut.
His hands stopped her movement. “Nay, Isobel. I wish only to give to ye before I take.” And with those words, his hands trailed back to her womanhood and his fingers once again explored her body in soft, gentle touches.
The fear inside of her started to ease, but a new tension built as his fingers pressed on her flesh, which felt swollen and throbbing. His touch was pure pleasure as he moved his fingers back and forth and then began slow circles. The throbbing between her legs shifted to her belly and her heart, and then seemed to spread to every part of her body. “What are ye doing to me?” she demanded on a pant.
In answer, his fingers disappeared and his tongue traced a hot, searing path over the most sensitive part of her womanhood. She could not keep her scream of pleasure contained. “Graham!” she cried, her hips bucking upward involuntarily. His hands came under her buttocks, as his tongue moved quickly over her flesh, first in long, wicked strokes and then in luscious circles that made her sure she would splinter.
The pressure within her built so fast and hard that she called his name again and again, forgetting her vow to be silent. She pressed her body closer to his mouth as he moved his tongue in a frenzy and kneaded the flesh of her bottom. All at once, every taut muscle clenched even tighter, and a fiery sensation exploded within her, causing wave after pulsing wave to roll through her. Just as she felt as if her body was floating, he spread her thighs wider, came up, kissed her reverently on the mouth, and said, “Now ye are ready.”
Before she could agree or have time to become fearful again, he plunged into her in a swift yet gentle motion. The pain was immediate and caused her to gasp and shove against his chest. The demand for him to cease was on her tongue, but he stilled on his own, his arms braced on either side of her. The tension in his face, the tautness of his arms, told her that he was battling with his own desire to move in order to hold perfectly still for her. A rush of gratitude and tenderness filled her, and she bit her lip on her demand for release.
Tentatively, she nodded to him. “Slowly at first, aye?”
He jerked his head in a nod and moved his hips very slowly. She felt as if she were being stretched to near tearing, but then something shifted. The pain eased, and the slide of his body within her began to feel good. Her belly started to tingle, and her muscles tightened once more as passion inched through her veins, and desire flooded her body again. She pushed her hips toward him, meeting his next movement.
“Graham!” she cried out, caught in a wave of ecstasy. She struggled to quiet herself, but she could not. “I’m sorry,” she moaned, “but it feels so good!”
Never had a joining been like this for him. Graham groaned with desire and the flood of tenderness he felt for his wife as she cried out her apology. He couldn’t order his thoughts well enough to consider why she was offering apologies for being passionate. Later. He’d ask her later. She was heaven. She was so hot and tight around him, so fragile yet passionate. But it was her honest, incredible response to his body that was pushing him toward the peak faster than he had intended.
He tried to control himself, but it was harder than anything he had ever experienced in his life. Every instinct inside him clamored to claim her completely, but he feared he would hurt her or scare her. Sweat dampened his brow, and his muscles bunched and flexed as he fought against himself to slow down and set a tender, gentler pace. Yet every time he slid into her liquid fire, he had to grit his teeth against the savage need to increase his speed.
Desire burned within him and mounted with every movement until a guttural cry ripped from his chest. Her eyes flew open, and she stared into his face. Could she see what she did to him? He felt more exposed than he had ever felt in his life. Isobel was already making him weak. Yet in this moment, he could not care.
Her hand came to his cheek. “Relinquish yer control, Graham. Take me. Take me as ye wish. I vow ye will nae hurt me. God made me for ye, just as ye vowed.”
It was all the encouragement he needed. He increased his pace until his blood sang in his veins and his thoughts careened in his head. She tremored around his staff, and his body took over, releasing his mind from worry. He set a pace that made him pant, and she met him motion for motion, until he was calling her name as he soared to a shuddering ecstasy. His seed burst from him and filled his wife, making her his completely.
He dropped to her side and rolled onto his back, bringing her into the crook of his arm. She sighed and snuggled against him as he lay staring at the ceiling and panting while the flood of pleasure slowly receded and the turbulence of his passion calmed. After a while, his heart slowed and his thoughts came to where he could order them.
He glanced down at Isobel, who tilted her head to look at him. She gave him the shy smile that made two indentions appear in her cheeks, which he loved. His heart tugged hard. His caring for her was a thing he feared would be hard to contain, and that scared him more than any brutal enemy he had ever faced.
Chapter Fifteen
Isobel awoke slowly, her mind feeling as if a mist were blanketing her thoughts. She opened her eyes to sunlight filtering in the bedchamber—Graham’s bedchamber. Awareness crashed over her, and memories from the night before singed her thoughts and made her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Looking quickly to the right, she exhaled with relief when she realized Graham was no longer abed, but then she frowned. Where was he? Why had he not woken her?
She grinned to herself, recalling his guttural cries. Graham desired her with the same intensity she felt for him. She let out a long sigh. His desire was the only thing about him she was certain of. She knew nothing of his past, but her gut told her it had much to do with his unwillingness to offer her more than desire and controlled care. She wanted passion and love, and she wanted it from him. After last night, she was a fool to try to deny it.
She quirked her mouth as she glanced around his bare bedchamber. In the bright morning sunlight, the room told her a great deal about the man she had married. He did not need much, and right now, she feared that included the love she could give him. Love for him was inside her, a seed that needed planting to grow, but he wasn’t willing to plant it. She’d not even truly understood her feelings until he’d so tenderly shattered her and then, just as savagely, made her come alive fully.
She sat up, and as she did, the blanket that had covered her slid downward, and she realized two things at once: she was very sore, and she was completely, utterly, and sinfully naked. She had slept all night without any clothing. She hugged her knees to her chest, thinking about Graham. She needed to talk to someone who knew about his past, and the only person she could think of that might share with her was Marion
.
Now that she had the beginning of a plan, Isobel scrambled out of bed and searched for her gown. The fire had died low, so the room had a chill to it, and by the time she was dressed, she trembled from the cold. But when she opened the door and found Cameron standing guard, frustration heated her.
“Why am I still being guarded?” she snapped.
She immediately felt guilty when Cameron grimaced. “For yer protection, Isobel. There are many who still dunnae like yer presence here.”
Isobel sighed. “Like Lena?”
Cameron cleared his throat. “Aye. I’m sorry.”
“Dunnae be. I can understand why she dunnae wish a Campbell in her home. Am I to continue to take my meals in the bedchamber, then?”
“Nay,” Cameron assured her. “Graham said ye could move about the castle with a guard.”
Isobel pressed her lips together on a sharp retort. It was not Cameron’s fault that she was to be guarded, nor could she truly be vexed with Graham for worrying about her safety. She was angry at the situation, and at her father and siblings for their crimes.
Cameron held an arm out to her. “I’ll take ye to the great hall to break yer fast. I’ve the morning duty, and I’m to pass ye to Rory Mac at noon.”
She ground her teeth. She understood Graham’s concern, but she thought he might be overreacting a bit. She knew for certain that walking around with a guard would make her feel even more isolated than she already did. Plus, if she constantly had a guard, she would not be free to talk to Marion in private.
She had to convince Graham to allow her to move about Dunvegan on her own. Surely his sister and his clansmen would not dare to harm her now that she was Graham’s wife. To do so would be a strike against Graham.
When a Highlander Loses His Heart (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 4) Page 21