“Better yer wife be raising her own bairns than another’s,” Matthew muttered.
“Why are ye being so hard about this?” Angus demanded of his younger sibling.
“It is not usual for ye to take so long to impregnate a wench,” Matthew replied. “She should be wi’ bairn by now, yet she ripens not. Perhaps she is infertile as well as plain. Ye might have had a beauty, an heiress.”
Angus Ferguson swallowed back his anger. Matthew was just anxious for Duin’s future. Having been recognized both personally and legally by their father, he was extremely loyal to his family. From his youth he had worshiped his elder brother. “Annabella will be enceinte soon,” Angus promised Matthew. “Her mother was fertile, and she will be as well. She traveled across Scotland to be my wife. It’s been only two months. She needs time to acclimate herself to Duin, to me. I am happy wi’ her.”
“Silis delivered ye a lad this morning,” Matthew said.
“And ye’re just now bringing me word of it?” the earl said, irritated.
“The messenger arrived during the evening meal. I didn’t think yer wife would want to know that yer former mistress delivered ye a firstborn son this day,” Matthew said. “What gift will ye bring the laddie tomorrow when ye go to see her?”
“Silis has been well taken care of, Matthew, and ye know it. I gave her a large cottage on the moor, for she didn’t want one near her family’s in the village. I furnished the cottage, gave her a servant to help her and a generous yearly stipend. I will visit my son when I have the time. If I go tomorrow, she will take it as an indication that I wish to resume our former relationship. Send the messenger back with a small silver cup. ’Twas what I gave the mothers of my daughters. Silis is aware of that, and can read nothing more into that.
“She’ll take a lover soon enough, for she’s a lass who cannot live wi’out a manly cock to entertain her. I’m actually not sure that this bairn is mine at all. I caught the blacksmith’s middle son sneaking out of her da’s cottage one day when I went to see her unexpectedly. I told her that same day that I was bored wi’ her, and would no longer be coming to visit her. And she told me she was expecting a bairn, swearing ’twas mine, but I have never been entirely satisfied that was the truth. Silis is a whore at heart. I learned that the blacksmith’s lad visited her at least twice a week last winter.”
Matthew flushed. “I knew,” he admitted, “but once ye told us that she was to have a bairn, I dared say naught to ye.”
Angus laughed ruefully. “The bairn could be mine,” he replied.
“When ye see him, look for the mark,” Matthew said. He referred to a tiny round birthmark that all their father’s male children bore on their testicles.
Angus laughed. “When I go to see the bairn, I will look,” he replied. “Say nothing to Jean or Annabella.”
Matthew nodded. “I’ll say nothing,” he promised his brother. “But they are bound to hear of the bairn sooner than later.”
“Jean, mayhap,” Angus agreed, “but ’tis unlikely Annabella will go into the village now that she is to have Callum and Una here wi’ her. Silis and her bairn should be of no concern to my wife. ’Tis past.”
“As long as Silis understands yer wishes,” Matthew said. “Perhaps I should deliver the silver cup to her.”
“Nay, yer presence would have her believing that I still care. Send the cup with the messenger,” the earl told his brother. He would, of course, have to go and see the bairn sooner or later. It would be expected of him. His former mistress was the daughter of a fisherman, who had lived in the village with her aunt, for she could not abide the smell of fish. She had flirted with him boldly, and finally he had indulged his curiosity. She had given herself to him freely, and for a time she had amused him with her beauty and her greed for any bauble he gave her. Finally bored with her and concerned by the faint rumors of her faithlessness, he had ended the relationship. Her news, however, led him to act honorably. He had not seen or heard of her again until this evening.
He considered whether he should tell Annabella of Silis and her bairn, but decided against it. It was hardly the kind of conversation a man wanted to have with his bride before deflowering her and spending the night in her bed. Tonight of all nights, their thoughts and emotions should be only for each other. “Good night, Matthew,” he said, and, leaving the hall, hurried up the stairs to his own apartment.
Within he found that his body servant, Tormod, had prepared a hot bath for him in the bathing chamber. He bathed quickly, saying little, yet he could not help but wonder how Tormod had known he wanted to bathe this night, for he had sent no order to him. The servant wrapped a towel warmed by the fire about his master when he emerged from the stone tub. He knelt to pare the earl’s toenails, and then with a smaller towel dried his short-cropped dark hair. Back in his bedchamber, Angus dismissed the servant. “I will not need you again until the morning,” he said.
Tormod bowed. “Aye, my lord,” he said. Then he was gone from the chamber.
Had there been the hint of a smile upon the man’s lips, or had he imagined it? Angus wondered to himself. He was ready to join Annabella, but now he became assailed with doubts. What if her lack of beauty caused his lust to lie dormant? What a disaster that would prove to be. Still, her bedchamber would be lit only by firelight. She was not ugly, nor deformed, and she was a sweet lass who might be shy but was more than willing to do her duty. Of course he would perform properly. It could not be otherwise.
He decided against wearing a nightshirt or house robe. It was always awkward removing such a garment in the heat of passion, and there would be passion. How could it be otherwise when a man held a tender, warm body in his arms? Angus Ferguson walked across his bedchamber and, opening the door in the paneled wall, ducked his head to avoid the top of the doorjamb as he stepped into Annabella’s bedchamber.
She turned as he came into the room, gasping with surprise at his nudity. The dimness of the chamber showed little more than his shadow, the firelight touching his skin here and there. “My lord,” she murmured.
He could smell the intoxicating fragrance that surrounded her. She was wearing a silk-and-lace garment that, rather than concealing her figure, revealed her entire body to his sight. And to his great surprise, it was an absolutely beautiful body. He felt a tightening in his groin. Her limbs were long and shapely. Her charming little breasts almost made his mouth water with anticipation at the thought of the thorough licking and sucking he would visit upon them very shortly. Her belly had just the faint hint of rounding, and below it was her smooth plump mons. He walked slowly about her to discover that her buttocks were delightfully curvaceous. His hands itched to grasp those charming mounds.
If God had denied Annabella Baird the face of a goddess, he had certainly given her the body of one. The dancing flames of the firelight offered him a most perfect view of it. His cock tingled at the thought of possessing that body. She was his! His alone! No one but him would ever know the secret that her clothing hid. He almost laughed aloud at this wonderful discovery. Then he greeted her. “Good evening, madam,” he said.
She did not demur. “Will we couple tonight?” she asked him.
“Aye,” he told her.
“Then, as we are about to become intimate,” Annabella said softly, “perhaps ye will call me by my given name, my lord. Since ye’re about to shortly take my virginity from me—yours by right, my lord—I should like to hear ye speak my name, and not address me quite so formally as madam.”
“Take off yer garment, Annabella,” he replied to her.
“As ye will, my lord,” she answered him, drawing the long, loose garment over her head and dropping it to the floor.
“Undo yer hair for me, Annabella,” he next commanded, watching as she slowly unplaited the thick braid, fluffing her hair out once it was undone. Plunging his two hands into the thick, silky mass of her sable tresses, he drew her toward him so he might kiss her a deep, slow kiss. A surge of lust raced through him as her so
ft lips met his, and she kissed him back. Releasing her lips, he looked down into her gray eyes and smiled. Then, reaching out, he cupped one of her small breasts in his palm, rubbing the nipple with the ball of his thumb until the rosy flesh stiffened into a peak.
Annabella drew in a sharp breath. “Angus,” was all she could manage. She was absolutely fascinated by all that was happening. He was so gentle with her.
He put an arm about her, drawing her close. Their naked bodies were now fully touching, and he felt her quiver. “God’s mercy, sweeting, ye’re lovely,” he told her softly, squeezing the little breast nestled in his hand.
Her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t mock me, Angus. I could not bear it,” she whispered to him in a tremulous voice.
“Annabella,” he said, “while there is no denying that ye’re plain of face, ye have the most outrageously beautiful body. I’m already afire to possess ye!”
“I do?” She sounded honestly surprised. Then she asked him, “How can ye know that, Angus?”
He chuckled. “Because, lass, I have known many female bodies in my life,” he told her. He turned her so that they were facing the beautiful full-length mirror that had once belonged to his mother. “Look for yerself, Annabella,” he said.
Her eyes fastened on the images in the glass. It was the most erotic sight she had ever seen. He stood behind her, his big naked body pressing against her naked body. His two big hands cupped her two small breasts. Their bodies were both golden and shadowed in the light of the hearth’s dancing flames. The odd stirring she had experienced once before was suddenly filling her. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and she watched, mesmerized, as his thumbs began to rub her nipples. She shocked herself by pressing her buttocks back against him, gasping again as she felt his manhood awakening.
His dark head bent and he placed a kiss upon her rounded shoulder. His lips followed the curve of her neck. “Ye’re wickedly tempting, Annabella, Countess of Duin. I am filled wi’ my desire for ye. Are ye ready to yield yerself to me, sweeting?”
Her head was spinning from the new sensations suddenly assailing her.
“Wha . . . what do ye want me to do?” she finally managed to grate out. Her voice kept getting caught in her throat, and her mind was confused. How was it possible for a man to wreak such havoc with a touch, a kiss, a sensuous word?
“Tonight ye will do naught but accept the homage of my passion for ye, Annabella. Eventually I will teach ye the things a woman can do to pleasure a man, but not tonight. Tonight I would introduce ye to passion. I would explore every inch of yer luscious body. Finally, when ye are ready, I will join my body wi’ yers so that we may attain the ultimate pleasure.” He turned her about so she was now facing him again, his arms wrapping tightly about her. Then, before she might say another word, he began to kiss her.
He began with soft, gently playful kisses that he scattered across her mouth, her cheeks, her closed eyelids. Then he concentrated fully on her lips, pressing his against hers as one kiss blended into another and another and another as her resistance gave way, finally permitting his tongue to plunge into her mouth. Her tongue shyly retreated, but he hunted it down with his, cornering it, stroking it over and over until she could not help but respond to the flames of desire now licking at her body.
Angus could feel that the girl in his torrid embrace was near to swooning with her newly aroused excitement. Breaking off his passionate kisses, he caught her up in his arms, walked to her bed, and set her gently upon it. He stared down, briefly enchanted by the voluptuous picture she made as she lay upon her back, her body slightly curled, one arm shielding her eyes from the sight of his powerful masculine body, his manhood now engaged and fully aroused.
Then, before she might grow frightened, he joined her in the bed. He lifted her arm away from her face, saying, “Look at me, Annabella.”
She wanted to refuse, for the elegant man she had married two months ago suddenly seemed so fierce and dominating. Oh, she was very aware that he was holding himself back for her sake. That he was being kind, and patient, but still . . .
“Annabella!” The voice was now commanding.
Her eyes flew open to find his handsome face staring down at her. “Angus?”
He smiled that wonderful smile of his at her. “Kissing, sweeting, is an art. I find ye’re an excellent scholar,” he said. “Now I will show ye other places where kisses may be enjoyed by both husband and wife.” His dark head moved to one of her breasts. He covered it with little kisses, then moved to the other breast, which he kissed as ardently.
Annabella found herself sighing with genuine pleasure, but then his lips closed over one of her nipples. The tug of his mouth on that most sensitive portion of her flesh caused her to cry out softly. “Oh! Oh!” Sweet Mary! She could feel a corresponding tug in that secret place between her legs. “Angus?” she murmured questioningly.
He raised his head, his green eyes staring into hers. “Hmmm?”
“I . . . I . . .” She didn’t know what to say, too shy to ask whether the feelings overwhelming her were those that should be felt.
Again that smile lit his face. “Sweet wife,” he said, his hand caressing her face. “Ye’re surely not afraid of me, are ye?”
“Nay,” she said, shaking her head, “but everything is so strange to me.”
He kissed her mouth, a deep kiss. Then he said, “I sense that you have a talent for passion, sweeting. Let me awaken it, Annabella. Do not question; just follow as yer heart, yer body, and mind dictate,” he suggested to her as he began to kiss her naked body, his mouth moving slowly, lingering first here and then there, obviously enjoying himself. His kisses covered her torso, her belly, her legs, and her feet. He nibbled at her toes, causing her to giggle. Smiling, he turned her over and, beginning with the soles of her feet, his lips worked their way up her shapely calves and thighs and across her rounded buttocks to the small of her back.
Annabella gasped as she felt his warm tongue licking its way up her spine, across her shoulders, and finally reaching the nape of her neck, which he bit gently. “Oh! Oh!” It was all too delicious. He claimed that she had a talent for kissing? Certainly he far surpassed any budding skill she might have, Annabella thought, relaxing beneath the warm mouth that seemed to enjoy her body. When he turned her over again onto her back she hummed a small protest at the loss of his kisses.
Her eyes were closed, and he admired her lovely long, thick eyelashes.
“Surely I haven’t put ye to sleep, Annabella,” he teased her, and delighted in the color staining her cheeks. She was adorable. Delectable. He was amazed at his own patience in waiting to possess her, for his cock was hard and ready.
“Nay,” she answered him, opening her eyes again. “I find I am enjoying yer kisses and caresses perhaps more than I should.”
He laughed softly. “With passion, enough is never enough, my sweet.” He began to stroke her as he might a small cat. His hand moved down her torso until he was brushing her plump mons. She watched him, shyly fascinated, but then his palm pressed down upon that mound of flesh. A bolt of sensation shot through her, and she stiffened.
“Ahhh,” he said, seeing the look of both panic and curiosity in her eyes, “now, sweet wife, ye’re beginning to understand passion.” Leaning forward, he began to kiss her again, delighted when her lips met his eagerly.
She felt just the tiniest touch of fear as he ran a finger along the slit dividing her nether lips. She tried to distract herself from what he was doing, because she knew he would not harm her, yet that finger was unnerving. The finger pushed between the slit, seeking, seeking. Seeking what? Mother of mercy! “Ohhh!” What was he touching, and why did it feel so exciting, so wonderful? “Ohhhhh!”
He had found her love bud and caressed it gently, and then with a stronger stroke.
Her little cries excited him. Unable to help himself, he bent low, kissing that sentient nub of flesh. Her gasp was audible, but then he was burrowing his finger deeper, and findi
ng the opening of her love passage, and gently inserted his finger to the first joint.
She gasped again, and bucked beneath him.
“Dinna be fearful, Annabella,” he reassured her as he pressed his finger into her to his knuckle. His voice was thick with his desire.
“I’m not,” she lied, pressing her lips together to keep from screaming.
He moved the finger back and forth gently. His own cock was so hard now that he feared a simple touch would shatter it into a thousand pieces. He had to take her soon. “Yer love juices have begun to flow, sweeting,” he told her. “Ye’re ready to be mounted.”
“So soon?” she whispered, realizing that the moment had come.
Without another word he withdrew his finger from her. Swinging himself over her body, he looked down into her plain little face. Her lack of beauty meant nothing to him. He wanted her as he could never recall wanting another woman. He had to have her. Now! Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Her beautiful body was tensed and braced for his assault. He almost wept at this last sight of her innocence. He leaned forward and began to kiss her—deep, soft kisses to distract her from what was to come.
His lips! Holy Mother! His lips were wonderful. She had never imagined kissing could be so incredible. She lost herself in those kisses, his tongue dancing with her tongue. It was heaven! Wait! What was happening? He was pushing himself into her love sheath. He was too big! Too big! Annabella’s eyes flew open. “Nay! Stop!” Oh! He was pushing himself deeper into her body, tearing her asunder, invading her very soul. “No! No! Angus! No!” she cried, struggling beneath him, her small fists beating at his chest and shoulders.
God forgive him, but he could not cease now. Her untried sheath was very tight, but it was yielding to him. Her pleading almost broke his heart. There was nothing for it. He had reached the barrier of her virginity. He could feel how tightly lodged it was. Drawing back, he quickly thrust himself through it and deep into her body. Her shriek almost brought him to tears, for he was not a man to visit pain upon a woman. Having torn her maidenhead asunder, however, he rested a moment, kissing the tears on her cheeks. “It’s done now, sweeting,” he murmured in her ear. “The worst is over, and’twill be better now; I promise ye.”
Bond of Passion Page 10