The Draig's Wife

by Lisa Dawn Wadler

Daring the child’s wrath, he leaned in and brushed her hair behind an ear. After placing a kiss to the exposed skin, he whispered, “We have regrets to erase and a marriage to complete. How fine that the two meld together.”

  Emma shifted and allowed wee Thomas another shove at Declan. “Now?”

  “Aye, wife, now. My uncle approaches and will be here by nightfall.” Only a fool would have missed the way she tensed at his statement. He knew it would take more than a moment or two to have her in his bed. “Aalish, would you keep our lass this night?”

  Aalish nodded. “I was going to offer. It will be fine, Emma. My eyes will never let her wander from sight.”

  His bride turned to face him. “Do we really need to have Mary sleep in the village?”

  “I fear once my uncle arrives and finds me alive and wed, it could be a verra loud evening. Mary should nay have to listen to such.” Declan lifted the child from her arms and handed him back to his mother.

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Do you really think tonight will get ugly?” Emma asked.

  “Aye, ugly ‘tis a fine choice of words. Say farewell and join Meggie before the crowd discovers you leave. I will sneak away shortly.”

  “Why are we sneaking?” Emma asked.

  “Oh, Emma. If the drunk fools knew you were about to, I mean, do you want everyone to follow?” Aalish said with no humor in her voice.

  He watched the color drain from Emma’s cheeks at the thought of the crude behavior implied. Straightening his shoulders, he knew what was to come was needed and silently vowed to hold steady to his plan.

  Emma blinked several times before her gaze fell on Mary laughing with a gaggle of young girls. “Thank you, Aalish. I’m sure she’ll love being with you tonight.” When she looked back at him, her eyes held only apprehension. “I’ll go.”

  He leaned in to place a kiss to her cheek. “I will be at your side in moments, wife.”

  Declan stayed in place as Aalish walked with Emma to the waiting Meggie. He heard Aalish’s parting words, “There are words every bride should hear on her wedding night, so I offer them to you and mean them. I love you.”

  He turned away, not wanting to see the sad expression on his wife’s face. In all the promises he had made her, love had not been one of them. Mulling over what he did feel, there was respect, admiration, lust, and a value placed on her companionship. He knew he would have been miserable if Emma had denied him. If she had not married him, there would have eventually been a man she would claim. The thought alone made him crazed. Jealousy could easily be added to the list. While he wasn’t ready to call what was between them love, he grinned like a besotted fool as he watched her disappear into the keep. What he did have with his wife was more than he had hoped for. Mayhap love will follow. Provided she ever forgives me for the bedding.

  ~ ~ ~

  Emma fingered the soft, deep blue silk of the robe that covered her and wondered how it could have been dyed so flawlessly. She avoided pondering how it fit as perfectly as her wedding dress had, not to mention the matching silk slippers for the gown. Clearly, plans had been put into motion long before she had been made aware of them. She frowned when she realized she may have been the last person to know about her wedding. Her gaze focused on the tree line in the distance and avoided the crowd gathered on the grounds outside the gates.

  Meggie had insisted she shed the gown and wear the robe. The robe was luxuriously soft while offering nothing to save her modesty. It fit like a second skin and clung to every inch of her body. Heaven forbid it not be easy to get me naked. The only win in her mind was Meggie blushing furiously as she asked Emma if she had any questions about what was to happen next. The next was easily assumed in her mind. Once again, she stood in the man’s chamber wearing too little, though she doubted any would disturb them.

  The sound of the door closing shut pulled her back into the moment and made her heart skip a beat. She heard what she assumed were his boots hitting the floor and struggled to breathe as soft steps approached from behind.

  Determined to face him, she paused long enough to attempt one more breath. She was caught off guard as his arms wrapped around her waist and he leaned his hard chest against her back. Emma stilled, and Declan inhaled the scent of her hair and sighed. For the first time since meeting him, she kept silent, not sure what to say.

  “We can join them later if you wish.” Declan nuzzled his cheek against her temple and peered out the window. “They will be drinking my wine late into the night.”

  Facing the villagers after what was about to happen held even less appeal than a rowdy escort. If they mocked her before, she couldn’t even imagine what would come later. Asking the only question she could find, “Will they save some of the ale? I like that best.”

  Her eyes closed briefly as his hand settled on her hip and the heat of his skin warmed her flesh. “Did none speak to you of wedding ale? There is no ale served at the wedding of a Draig Laird.”

  Only aware of the warmth radiating from Declan’s hands on her hip and the one on her stomach, she failed to suppress her nervous shudder. “Why?”

  She tensed as his lips brushed her temple. “Many generations ago ale meant for a wedding had been poisoned. Its intent was to kill the clan to allow another to lay claim to the silver mines that provide our wealth. The woman loved by my ancestor discovered the truth and saved them from death.” Placing another kiss to her temple, he said, “As you have saved the clan. And as I hope you have saved me from an empty marriage.”

  Declan turned her within his arms. “‘Tis my hope we will be happy together, wife.”

  While he was doing his best to be sweet, Aalish had been correct. Declan had not given her what she wanted to hear on her wedding day and what she currently realized she had wanted to feel on that day. Unable to speak, she nodded in silent agreement.

  “Once again I stop your speech.” He held her face in his hands and whispered a delicate kiss over her lips. She knew he felt her tremble. “There is something I must ask you.” He let go of her and removed the belt that kept his dagger strapped to his hip. With the blade in his hands, he asked, “Are you untouched, or should I provide the blood for the sheet? Your answer changes naught between us, ‘tis simply a fact to be known.”

  As he held the blade to his finger and she realized his intent, she answered, “You don’t need the knife.” Her gaze fell to the floor as the words slipped off her tongue and locked on her bare toes that peeked from the hem of the robe.

  “‘Tis a dagger, nay a knife.” His voice teased while he stepped away long enough to place the dagger on the table before the fire.

  Still focusing on her feet that felt the chill of the stone floors, she added quietly, “I thought that’s why I was here.” After all, his only requirement in a girl to marry from the village was that she was a virgin. “I’m assuming you already talked to Cortland about that.” If he had asked fathers in the village about their daughters, of course he would have asked about her.

  His thumb and forefinger lifted her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “You are here because of what could be between us. I thought I made that clear this morn. We agreed to build a life together. And nay, I never asked Cortland.” Soft laughter left his lips as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “You faced armed raiders with no thought to your safety, yet you tremble from my touch. Do you think I would hurt you?”

  His voice was laced with insult when he asked the question, and she felt foolish. “No,” Emma whispered. She had no fear of bodily harm from him, but her heart held only apprehension at her hurried decision to marry him. What have I done?

  Declan bent to scatter soft kisses against her cheek. Whispering into her ear, he said, “I would never hurt you, wife. We can erase the regret of what was left unfinished between us and find pleasure in each other’s arms.�
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  Despite his reassuring words and warm breath on her neck, Emma stiffened as his hand found the skin of her shoulder under the robe. His fingers stroked her collarbone and came to rest on her shoulder. “I was wrong, wife. The fabric is nay nearly as soft as your skin.” Due to his hands, the fabric pooled, leaving her shoulder bare. “Naught is as soft as your skin,” Declan whispered against her lips.

  With his gentle touch, her uncertainty faded, and she only knew that she had to kiss him back. Clarity blossomed at how she had wound up in his bed. The man could kiss. The second she leaned in, he took control and kissed her as he had that morning, lips capturing hers. Emma sighed in utter delight as his hands wrapped in her hair. The slow passionate kisses weren’t enough to prevent her involuntary stiffening when his body pressed tight against hers and the proof of his desire landed hard against her hips.

  The kiss ended slowly, and he wrapped his arms around her to stroke her sides. “There was a night when you welcomed my touch, when your body craved mine. Do you remember how much my touch pleased you?”

  With the question hanging in the air, Declan stepped back. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dried as he lifted his shirt over his head. Like the cover of one of the cheesy novels Mrs. Rosenblat kept on the coffee table, he stood proudly before her dressed only in his plaid, his sculpted chest bared for her eyes. It was the same bare chest she had bathed repeatedly when he had fever, but now it was different in so many ways. His wide shoulders, muscular chest, and stomach filled with hard lines made him appear like a work of art. His skin still held the tan from his time before his illness. Her gaze traveled the length of him, over the sparse dark hairs that swirled around his lower belly and disappeared beneath the fabric.

  She blinked as he chuckled and knew she had ogled him far too long. “That night, we were both a lot drunk,” she blurted out, and her gaze landed on his amused one.

  “Aye, we had too much to drink, or I never would have touched you. However, the fire between us had little to do with the whiskey. You ken this as do I.” His smug grin confirmed he caught her admiring him. Declan reached out and gave a light tug to the strap holding her robe closed.

  As the robe opened, she felt heat begin at her scalp and spread down to her toes. “Can we blow out some of these candles?” No one ever lit candles during the day; it was a waste given the natural light in the chamber. It was a poor excuse for her modesty, but suddenly she felt too on display.

  “It was far too dark the last time we were here. I would see all of you, wife.” His whispered words heated the air.

  With her eyes closed, she felt the fabric slide from her shoulders and pool at her feet, though she never felt his hands. After what seemed a small eternity of being exposed, Declan spoke.

  “Open your eyes.” One finger traced her collarbone as he commanded her.

  Forcing her body to comply, she opened her eyes to his gaze as his finger wandered over her body. Emma jumped lightly when his finger traced down her breastbone and then stilled on her hip. Rapid breathing gave credence to his want for her, as did the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips. Raw desire had not been what she expected to see reflected in his gaze.

  “You are a beautiful woman,” Declan purred.

  Emma knew him well enough to know he could be sweet when he wanted, but he was not the sort to flatter. That and she knew from far too many sources that he preferred a much more voluptuous figure. Finding a shred of her courage, Emma stated the obvious. “I think you are just trying to talk me into bed.”

  He pulled her close, and she felt the heat of his skin against her chest, his hard muscle against her flesh and knew that despite her belated concerns over her decision to marry him, her body seemed quite content. Blood rushed in her veins, and contentment morphed to exuberance.

  With a smile that held no laughter, he said, “You speak true. I need you on the bed. ‘Tis a fine thing I also want you there.”

  Unsure about the events to come, Emma heard the shift in his vocal pattern. “I thought the laird didn’t come in here.”

  His hand cupped her cheek and made her keep his gaze. “You wed the laird. He will be the one to take what you have saved. Have no doubt he values what you bring to our marriage bed. What passes between us will mean you are his and his alone.”

  Emma saw the change in Declan and the omission and knew there was more to that thought. Her hands lifted and settled on his bare shoulders; she would never back down from the laird. It was Declan’s kind and gentle side that spooked her more. That was the side that had found a place in her heart, a place that burst to life when she had heard of him contemplating marrying someone else. Her eyes narrowed. “You should have told me that this morning. I’m not sure I want to bed the laird.”

  In answer, Declan kissed her hard. Her whimper smothered as he mastered her mouth, his tongue demanding entry and refusal no longer an option. There was no soft persuasion, only immediate gratification with tongues battling for dominance. As soon as Emma found his rhythm, he changed it and made her wait for more and then took her hard and fast, denying her any ability to think.

  As suddenly as it started, Declan ended the kiss and pulled back, breathing heavily. “You want me as much as I want you.”

  There was no chance to reply as he brushed his lips against hers, teasing her with the promise of a deeper kiss. A groan rumbled in his throat as his hands landed on the small of her back and pulled her hard against him, pushing her against his manhood, and again she stilled in his arms. “Why do I need to bed the laird?” And why is he so insistent in his splitting his personality with me here and now? If I want either of them, I want the man.

  For a split second, a dark shadow crept over his eyes. “Our bedding will bind you to me for all time, and before anything else, I am the laird.” A genuine smile covered his handsome features, and his voice softened to the one she preferred. “Though later, once our marriage is sealed and recognized, I will bed you for the sheer joy of having you by my side. Tell me you welcome the simple man I wish to be?”

  Her hand rose to cup his cheek, the face freshly shaven per her request. Her finger traced his jaw and lower lip as he waited for an answer. “It was the simple man I wanted that night,” she confessed. Despite all their arguing, she was insanely attracted to him, and she prayed he was correct, that their marriage could be more than a means to save his lands.

  His lips descended, and Emma felt the simple man in the kiss, soft and gentle. With his mouth tasting her lips, she attempted to push her hands into his bound hair. Finding the rawhide tie that kept it restrained, she pulled it until it fell into her hands. Her fingers ran through his thick dark hair that fell far down his back.

  Declan shifted his hold, and his plaid fell to the floor, covering the tips of her toes. Pressed against his naked body, she felt every muscle as he again pulled her tight to him. His arousal prodded her hip, and her bravado fell away. She pulled back with her hands resting on his chest.

  “I want you, and will take such care with you. I swear our bed will be a place of pleasure.” Before she could reply, Declan scooped her up into his arms, and in one fluid motion, laid her across the cool sheets Meggie had thoughtfully exposed. It wasn’t the playful throw she expected; it was smooth and graceful and ended with Declan lying at her side, half covering her body. And that one fluid motion reminded her that he had far more experience with a bed than she could ever comprehend, or would ever want to.

  As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Only you have ever been in my bed.” He denied her a chance to voice her concerns and kissed her while he shifted his body to cover her.

  Declan settled within her arms and legs, and the feel of their bare skin connecting everywhere overwhelmed her senses. The scent of soap, fresh sea-tinted air, and what could only be described as Declan filled her lungs. Heat from his skin touched hers, mixed with the li
ght crisp hair that was on his chest, stomach, and legs.

  Declan tore his mouth from hers, and she felt his panted breath warm her skin. His body shifted against hers, placing his hardened length against her heated center. A low rumbling growl came from him as her hips lifted to rub against him, the sensation shooting sparks deep in her belly. She felt him tense against her while his eyes blazed down upon her. A slow hedonistic smile crossed his parted lips as he rocked against her and caused her to moan at the contact. Her body blazed with want as it had that drunken night. She sighed as he trailed soft kisses across her jaw and down her neck. Teeth grazed her skin, and without thought, her body arched against his, seeking more.

  “You make me forget you should be loved slowly,” Declan purred against her throat.

  Her thoughts jumbled at his whisper. Is he loving me, or only using the words I want to hear? Love and marriage are supposed to go together, at least according to Sinatra. Her eyes closed, and she silently thanked him for being sweet in his intent. Her thoughts acknowledged that she had agreed to everything when marrying him even if she had attempted to delude herself into making it all about Mary.

  Warm-tasting lips slid down her neck and across her shoulders. Emma reached up and traced her hands over his muscled shoulders and felt his dichotomy again: soft skin encasing his hard frame. Sighs left her mouth, and kisses covered her shoulders, and alternately her body tensed as his hand wandered below her hip. She noticed the pattern: when she tensed, he stilled his exploration, and only when she softened did he move again. Such gentleness surprised and thrilled her; there was no rushing.

  When his hand again traced down her hip, she leaned into his gentle touch, and Declan rubbed his nose against her neck. Tracing the faint scar on her thigh, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

  Soft laughter left her lips as she remembered stumbling in his arms against the door when he had grabbed her there in a drunken misstep. Summoning her spirit, she said, “Not this time.”