It used to be in the olden days… the lady of the house would bathe, not merely her husband, but his guests as well. It was really very innocent—except… it wasn’t. At the moment, she very definitely had an ulterior motive—did he suspect?
By now, the steam from the bath was beginning to thicken in the room… or mayhap it was merely that she felt overheated. The fire in the hearth must be blazing hot, and yet, she couldn’t seem to find it within her to even glance at the hearth, since that happened to be on the very same side of the room with her now naked groom.
Unexpected, though he found it, Callum was enjoying her company, despite himself. She was endearing, he decided, as he stared at her lovely, round backside.
He couldn’t help himself; he grinned, and then, the very act of doing so was startling, because it was the first time he’d smiled so genuinely in eight long months.
Ye gods, they were handfasted now, married according to common law. He hadn’t lied to her, and indeed, he would allow her the time and space she needed to decide on her own if she wished to remain at Dunmore, and more importantly to remain as his wife.
Lachlan, too, would respect whatever decision she came to, and Callum had every intention of leaving her chaste until they could all get into a room together to decide their fates.
The problem was… Callum wasn’t a saint, and though she was no longer revealed before the fire, he could still spy the tantalizing outline of her fine form beneath the diaphanous gown, and he fought a battle with his demons to confess as much.
In the end, he decided she needn’t know, since it would indubitably embarrass her. But God help him, she had a fine, fine form… a narrow waist his hands ached to cradle… a pert, round bottom that offered him an intriguing view of the shadow beneath… the very sight made him dizzy, and it wasn’t only from the heat of the water…
Really, despite her bashfulness, he sensed an inherent strength in the lass, evident even now in the set of her shoulders. Having committed herself to their union, she didn’t dress herself and leave in protest of his nudeness. Nor did she rail at him for having availed himself of the tub. She simply accepted the truth, and, just as he had, she’d honed in on the most favorable outcome.
Nay indeed, he wouldn’t rush her, nor push her into anything rash, but that didn’t stop his body from hardening, nor did it ease the discomfort of his sudden, unreasonable desire.
Bloody hell… here he was… on the eve of a new year, enjoying a nice, hot bath… in the company of his lovely new bride… and still he was honor bound to keep his todger to himself—hell and damnation.
How he adored those tiny curls at her nape… most likely not the effect of any iron. But rather, having been dampened by the weather, they were naturally curling.
“I was thinking… after my bath, should we summon your chaperone and tell her the good news? Maybe share a pint of ale with her?”
“Hmm,” she said, sounding confused. And then she added, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Why not, lass? Do ye plan to change your mind?” He hadn’t a clue why he said it so defiantly, but the very notion curdled the dessert in his belly. “If so, I should warn ye, I mean to hold ye to our bargain…”
Evidently, that was all it took to chase away her shyness; her gaze narrowed and she spun about to pierce him with an angry glower. Only the sight of his smile disarmed her, and whatever it was she was about to say, she thought better of it. “You’re jesting,” she said, with no small trace of relief.
“Indeed, I am.”
“That’s a very good thing,” she said, with a smile, and Callum lifted his brow, amused.
Good Heavens.
Elizabeth knew she ought to look away. Propriety dictated as much, and yet… and yet… she couldn’t seem to make herself do it.
And now that she was looking, she did so greedily, secretly thrilling to the sight of her husband’s male form.
His smile was achingly beautiful and his storm-blue eyes so full of mischief—like a naughty little boy, but there was nothing so little about him.
He couldn’t possibly have realized she would take such offense at his suggestion. She was a woman of her honor, and she wouldn’t back down—even if she did suddenly feel like flying out the door. At any rate, where would she go?
Not to Mrs. Grace, that much was certain. That was the last thing she would do as she didn’t want her chaperone to know anything until their vows were already consummated and there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it.
He scooched down now, with a knee lifted from the water, and otherwise buried to his chin. Steam rose from the tub, like fine ribbons of smoke, and much to Elizabeth’s dismay, her gaze found his shoulder and locked on the small puckered wound there. “Does it hurt?” she asked, well aware that his hand slid through the tub, in a direction and fashion she daren’t contemplate. “Yes,” he said. “Very much.”
“It appears to be healing,” she said. “What about the one on your leg?”
Chapter 9
“Healing,” he said.
“Oh.”
Every last bit of good will Callum had mustered suddenly vanished with the steam rising from his tub. It had been far too long since he’d been with a woman and even now, as he brushed his hand across his cock to shove it down between his thighs to conceal it… white, hot desire pulsed through his veins, and heat rose into his unshaven face—another thing he meant to remedy. Until now, he hadn’t had any good reason to shave, but suddenly he had delightful visions of diving into her soft muff, curious for the taste of his wife.
His wife.
His wife.
His. Wife.
Before he could wrap his brain about that fact, and before he could warn her to stay away, she advanced upon the tub, setting his heart to pounding.
“I am no doctor,” she said. “But you might as well show me since I am now your wife. If there is anything at all I can do to ease your pain, I will certainly try.”
“You can’t,” he said, through gritted teeth and he would have thrust up a hand to hold her back, but he daren’t release the kraken in his tub. “Elizabeth,” he said, as she knelt, and the word came out of his throat with a tortured groan.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” she promised.
Callum groaned again, though she’d yet to even touch him.
“Where is it?” she demanded.
“Where is what?” Surely, she didn’t mean the beast between his thighs? That was hidden if only for the moment, but not for long, because even as the scent of her reached his nostrils, enhanced by the steam from the tub, his erection thickened and throbbed, threatening to free itself of all restraints.
“Elizabeth!” he protested again, as her hand dove into the water, and Callum twisted uncomfortably as she brushed his thigh.
Elizabeth didn’t know what got into her, but having reassured herself that this was the best course of action, she was now determined.
She didn’t wish to marry a boy. She wanted to marry a man—this man.
And neither was she entirely ignorant of what must be done. She understood the dangers of being in such close proximity with a naked man. In fact, that was precisely the end result she anticipated. She merely lacked the skills to know how to get what she wanted without asking for it, and no matter that she had always considered herself to be quite outspoken and yes, even intrepid, she didn’t anticipate the words that came out of her mouth.
“What?” she asked innocently. “If you won’t allow me to tend to your wound, I must help you wash. Therefore, I am searching for the soap.”
“That is my… leg,” he said.
“Of course it is—because you blocked my hand.”
“The soap,” he declared. “Is still in my hand.”
Elizabeth smiled coyly. “Oh.”
“You don’t want to wash me,” he said.
“Oh, but I do! It’s the least I can do.”
He frowned. “No, it isn’t.”
Eliz
abeth batted her lashes. “Well, I can’t very well sit about like an empty headed miss whilst you bathe,” she reasoned.
He was still scowling at her. “Of course, you can.”
“My lord, in case you didn’t realize, that is insulting,” Elizabeth said. “Women are not objects to be passively admired. I would therefore like to be of use,” she said more firmly.
“Elizabeth,” he warned, the sound of her name already achingly familiar on his lips.
Elizabeth’s heart beat wildly. The scent of him so close was intoxicating—a combination of sweat, horse and … man. It made her nostrils flare and she inched closer to catch another whiff…
Holy Christ in heaven above, Callum thought.
She’s too close—too close!
Neither did he miss the delicate flare of her nostrils as she inhaled his masculine scent and the not-so subtle way it drew her closer for another sniff. Ach, God, she was his wife now, and despite that he’d sworn not to avail himself of her bountiful gifts, it was all he could do to keep his head. “Elizabeth,” he said hoarsely, as she moved even closer.
“Callum,” she said, and God help him, that single word was like a balm to his wounded heart. It soothed him in a way that the healer’s efforts never could.
In fact, at the moment, his greatest ache was not the injury on his shoulder nor the one on his thigh… it was the one in his heart… and the one now throbbing between his legs.
Helplessly caught in the prison of her eyes, he released his hold on his cock and let it slip, to rise to a full salute. At the feel of it cresting the water, he swallowed convulsively, and though she must have heard the thrashing of water, she didn’t immediately appear to notice.
He seized her by the wrist, reveling in the feel of his tartan ribbon still bound there. “Elizabeth,” he said again, and the sound was as much a plea as he dared.
He wanted to command her to leave the room, but, in truth, deep down he sensed that this woman’s affection was exactly what could save him… not only tonight, but for all time.
As he stood there, basking in the promise of her gaze, he was like a drowning man reaching for a line…
There needn’t be any words spoken…
Not now.
Elizabeth had never been more certain of anything in all her life.
Gone was the effort of pretense. Her woman’s heart reveled in the feel of his strong hand closed about her wrist. Her nipples pebbled against her gown, fully revealed by the water that had splashed upon her chemise. His gaze was drawn there, as well, and he, too, swallowed, the hunger in his gaze making her feel… empowered.
“Am I not your wife?” she asked softly, sensually, sensing the moment could turn as he attempted to compose himself.
“You are.”
“Then make it so, in truth.”
He swallowed again, visibly, the apple in his throat bobbing. “Art certain?”
Elizabeth nodded with certainty, and then, if she had second thoughts they fled as he drew her into the tub, soaking her chemise to the flesh. She gasped in surprise, hardly having anticipated this—not quite this. He sat as he embraced her, cradling her in his arms as his lips unerringly found her mouth. Hungrily, they explored her, suckling and lapping in turn, coaxing her to open for him…
Suddenly famished for something more than food, Callum held his wife close, reveling in the feel of her in his arms.
She stiffened, though only for a moment, as she settled over his lap, no doubt feeling the heat of his manhood rising to seek her mons—silky, sweet and wet.
He groaned with desire, the sound no longer tortured but ravenous. Her body was like a bounty laid before a wasting man, and he was not strong enough to deny her.
“Elizabeth,” he said, once more, if only because honor compelled him. “If we do this now, there will be no turning back. You’ll be my wife, in truth.”
She smiled mischievously, and he wondered why. Was she already deflowered? Had she come to him with another man’s seed in her womb? It wasn’t unheard of and she was far too bold to be a virgin, but still…
His hand found and sought the lips he craved. Without warning, he slid a finger between her slick folds, and then once inside, he found the barrier he sought, and stopped, only slightly surprised. She was a virgin—a virgin with intelligence and passion. He could see the fire burning in her beautiful blue eyes… undisguised desire with an unbridled honesty to reveal it.
What was more, she knew, as he knew, that a willing consummation of this union meant they would be bound hereafter… so be it.
She moaned softly as his finger continued to explore, and, finally, she sagged into his arms as Callum deepened his kiss, mimicking with his tongue the rhythm he longed to show her elsewhere, knowing in his heart that she was everything he needed.
If, in fact, he’d lost his faith, this woman would restore it—no doubt she had already done so, judging by the lift of his spirit.
He didn’t know if the water would make her first time easier, but he was so hard he didn’t want to wait. And besides, when they were through, he would bathe her himself, reveal and worship every inch of her body…
Chapter 10
This wasn’t precisely how Elizabeth thought it might go—never had she imagined he would take her right here in the tub. And yet, there was nothing about their union that felt wrong. Somehow, every touch of his hands on her body felt oh, so right. When he found her most private place, and boldly touched her woman’s flower, she sagged against him, reveling in the hardness she encountered beneath her, and greedy in a way she had never anticipated. Her body seemed to have a hunger and will of its own, instinctively knowing what it should seek…
She repositioned herself fully over his searing erection, thrilling over the feel of it as it also seemed to find a life of its own, slipping and seeking between them until it found the hollow it sought, nestling itself hotly between her thighs.
“Ye’re mine,” he said, as though he couldn’t believe it. “Mine, mine, mine…”
And then his arms enfolded her greedily, his hands pulling and tugging at her wet chemise, only to give up when he found it irrevocably stuck to her flesh—all the more so with every pass of his soaking hands. The flimsy material melded against Elizabeth’s skin.
His gaze clouding with passion, he abandoned the garment, and so did she as his hands fell to both sides of her hips, lifting her ever so gently in order to settle her more conveniently over his arousal, and then, she gasped with new delight at the feel of his shaft pressing slowly, but firmly into her body… claiming her once and for all. Her heart hammered against her ribs in anticipation, and she knew the instant he encountered her maidenhead. Only when it seemed he might hesitate, she wouldn’t allow it. She sank down over him, taking him fully into her body, crying out over the thickness of him inside her.
“Oh, my!” she said, and he grinned.
“Ach, lass, I’ll have my hands full with you.”
Elizabeth smiled because, indeed, he would.
Indeed, he would.
His fingers dug into her waist, clutching her desperately as he rocked against her, until she thought she would die with pleasure.
Oh, my…
This wasn’t at all like Mrs. Grace had warned.
She had thought there must be pain, but no, indeed, there was none. There was only pleasure so intense she thought she might weep.
She adored the way his broad chest felt beneath her palms, loved the way his body melted into her own, loved the way he was looking at her right now…
They moved together in the tub, slowly at first, dancing a primal dance, hands exploring, mouths entwined, tongues exploring…
God’s truth, this was not how Callum had anticipated the holiday might go. It was hardly the way he’d anticipated returning home—with a new wife en tow. And yet, suddenly, in that instant, he knew in his heart that everything would be all right…
I would be a good year, indeed.
He vowed to hono
r his pledge—to give this woman no reason to leave him, ever, because he suddenly, without any doubt understood that without her he couldn’t be whole.
It had been so long since he’d lain with a woman that he came too quickly, giving her his seed, and then, because he knew instinctively that she didn’t understand what had happened, he rose from the tub lifting up his beautiful wife to carry her to the bed.
Once there, he made love to her, still hard as stone though he shouldn’t be, and he was stunned to discover that, even as he stroked and teased her to fruition, he hardened again. And this time, when he felt her body shudder with release, he covered her mouth with his own, greedy for the taste of her, and jealous enough not to want anyone else to overhear her cries of pleasure.
“Oh, my,” she said again, breathlessly, and he grinned down at her, reluctant to separate even still. He couldn’t stop, not yet, still sensitive with pleasure though he lifted himself enough so he could fill his eyes with her beauty. And when she smiled at him, her eyes so full of promise he came once more, the culmination so intensely pleasurable that he lifted his head back and stifled a primal howl.
Outside the chamber, all throughout the scullery and tavern, voices rose with huzzahs and shouts of “slàinte mhath!” It took Callum a full moment to realize they weren’t shouting hallelujahs for him… The clock must have struck twelve.
The first day of Hogmanay.
The first day of the rest of his life.
“Happy New Year, missus MacKinnon,” he said with a grin.
“Happy New Year,” she cooed.
Epilogue
One year later…
Callum MacKinnon cornered his wife at the top of the stairs, sweeping her into an embrace to keep her from going down to corral the children—not their own as yet, though he longed to hold a wee one in his arms, a sweet little girl, like her mother… with darling little freckles on her nose, a mischievous little grin more like his own, and an irrefutable sass she would come by honestly through both her parents.
One Knight’s Stand Page 5