Lips that had previously kissed left her neck, and she felt his chuckle against her skin. “Tell me, wife. Had we nay been disturbed, would you have given yourself to me that night?”
It was a question she had pondered and then avoided. Emma gasped as his hand tightened over the traces of her wound and held her in place as his hips rocked against her. Even the light contact was driving her insane and drove away the concern she thought she should have. Kisses again touched her skin, soft and light down her breastbone. Her head raised as his lips skimmed the side of her breast. Dazzling green eyes fixed on her as his lips descended on her peaked nipple.
Though she had been impaired by drink the last time, the memory of the desire he had created had been no drunken imagining. Warm lips kissed and suckled, and her body bowed off the bed to offer him more, to ask for more. Her hands wrapped in his hair, pulling him close while she watched him, his gaze never leaving hers.
Declan lifted his head and blew on her damp breast, shooting sparks across her skin. “Aye, watch me. Be fearless in our bed.” His hand squeezed her soft mound, and his mouth feasted upon her.
Emma’s mouth opened to let out a strangled noise she wouldn’t have believed she was capable of making. Watching every move he made, his lips and tongue circled the hard tip of her breast. Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip as he drew breath, blew softly, and suckled her hard, as if that was the reason he lived. It all created a need deep within her belly she didn’t quite understand, yet she watched Declan slide over her chest and repeated the same pulsating torture on the other side.
His challenge of watching him died as the assault continued. Her head fell back on the bed as her hands gripped his hair. The one against his scalp scratched every time she gasped while the other pulled his long luxurious lengths through her fingertips. Declan smiled against her skin at her enthusiastic response, and bedding the laird no longer seemed like a bad idea. If anything, she wanted him more than she could have imagined.
Her belly ached with unfilled need, and to answer her body’s pleas, her hips lifted in silent pleading for what came next. A little voice inside her head thought she should be protesting the way his hand slid over her leg to touch her lightly between her thighs. The bigger, bolder voice screamed it wasn’t enough. Her hips were in agreement with the louder voice because they moved into his touch. A startled cry left her lips as his fingers entered her body, but it held no discomfort, only overwhelming sensation. Again, her hips moved of their own volition, seeking his intimate exploration and a fulfillment to the desire raging in her blood.
It was as if he played her like an instrument, striking every note to perfection. He listened to her sounds, instinctively knowing what she wanted and needed and delivering it immediately. When Declan pressed his thumb against a seemingly magical spot, her body lit with sparks and electricity. To answer her plea, his hand moved faster, and his talented thumb circled.
In a flash, Emma knew why people focused on sex while she lay caught between the agony of desire and the promise of something exquisitely wonderful. Her hands pulled his hair as it ripped through her being, the ache transcending into bliss that spread from her lower belly throughout her limbs. She gasped for air as her body thrummed with her release. Declan scraped his teeth against a nipple, and that simple act had her crying out again. She shuddered as his hand continued a gentle rhythm inside her core and he drew out her release until it seemed to last an eternity.
She opened her eyes to find Declan poised over her. The soft kisses he offered her lips weren’t enough to satisfy her body which had discovered carnal greed. Pulling his hair to lead his lips closer, Emma demanded his mouth. As always, Declan delivered with his tongue delving inside to duel with hers.
The kiss stole away all thought until she felt his hardness enter her body. Reality hit with the subtly of a sledgehammer. This is it. It was the moment she had volunteered for when she agreed to marry him. With it came the silent plea: Please don’t let me be only a sacrifice.
He moved achingly slow, pushing barely in to retreat and repeat. Though barely inside her, her body responded as if it knew exactly what to do. Her hips lifted to grant him access, and she felt him take more than before. Need shifted to discomfort as he pushed farther inside her, then he stopped.
“You are mine, Emma,” Declan whispered against her lips. “I need you to agree. Say that you will have me for all time.” His words were littered with panting breath.
She was barely able to whisper, “Does this make you mine?” It was a dangerous question, one that hinted at her need to be more than a way for him to save his lands.
Tender eyes glimmered down at her. “Do you want me to be yours?” In his answering question, she heard his fear that mirrored hers.
“Yes,” she whispered, with her hands stroking the taut muscles of his back.
“Then I am yours, and you are mine, as it should be,” Declan whispered, right before his body plunged inside hers completely.
Her fingers dug into his back; all barriers were broken, and the words were out before she could stop them. “Oh, shit.” She had no idea if they came from the slight tweak of pain or the full feeling inside her body, but she was sure it was no longer a game they were playing, or a pretend marriage. Everything had become vividly real.
“No regrets, wife. Only sweet pleasure.” With a soft kiss to her lips, his body moved with equal patience. “For one thousand nights, I will atone for this one. Will you let me? Will you have the simple man in your bed? He wants you with him at the end of each day.”
A gasp forced itself from her lips as his body withdrew, only to fill her once again. Nerve endings she never imagined danced and sang in concert to the way he moved. Her hands ran over his back, paying homage to the flexing muscles and soft skin. “I think it was the man I agreed to bed in the first place.”
The smirk she tried to produce, disappeared as his hips ground against her center, leaving her lost in a haze of spiraling need.
“Then the man will join you later,” Declan whispered as he increased his pace. “I will share all of my skill with you.”
The idea that there was more than what she had already experienced floated in her lust-filled mind. Her body was only able to respond, her hips lifting to meet his slow, measured thrusts while he whispered encouragement. She didn’t need his words, the low throaty moans he made told her she wasn’t alone in the all-consuming pleasure.
Her body tingled and grew restless as heat filled her belly and passion consumed her. It was building, that same gnawing want from before, and she knew it would be so much more intense between the mix of his body filling hers, his skin against hers, and his groans floating in the air around them.
Emma was only able to focus on the intimacy of the act. Her eyes opened to find his fixed upon her and his hair shrouding them in a veil, blocking out any notion that a world existed around them. Everything he did, his every touch stole her thoughts. She could pretend it was simply a necessity, but she would be wrong. There was such tenderness in his gaze, and she knew he was correct in one thing—she was his.
Declan could say she bedded the laird all he wanted, but the truth was gazing down at her and caressed her face. Even as his thrusts increased in a divine pressure, soft kisses rained on her face. Her body wrapped around his as the intensity built. Unable to do anything more than fall into oblivion, Emma cried out as release screamed through her body while Declan encouraged her and demanded she let go.
Under her hands, his body went rigid, and she felt his release as she heard her name on his lips, his pleasure defining hers, and her greedy body taking everything he had to give. If she had been able to think, she would have teased him about finally calling her something besides wife.
Panting breath met her neck as Declan slumped over her, his weight held on his elbows. “I will make all up to you, I swear it,�
� he whispered. “Forgive me, please forgive me.” His passion had given way to an unexpected torrent of what sounded like agony.
Her jumbled mind could barely process what he was saying while she floated on a cloud of ecstasy. What could he possibly want me to forgive? Never could she have imagined such overwhelming bliss. So lost in her haze, she wondered if it had anything to do with the noises in the corridor. Maybe the drunken villagers had made their way outside the chamber door to taunt and tease? So what, she thought. If there was anything she knew about the man or laird she had married was that every door was always locked. Drunks could say whatever they wanted because they were safely tucked away.
Emma sighed as soft kisses touched her neck and his hair fell over her face with a gentle caress. She had no desire to move ever again until the world tilted on its axis and bliss and wonderment instantly became horror.
In an unnatural slow motion, her head turned when the door crashed open against the wall. Hair that had once caressed her bare skin became a tangled web she tried to see through. The yells and screams from the corridor filled the chamber, effectively killing their peaceful solitude and her delusions of what had just been. She turned her head back to Declan, and her breath caught in her throat as cold, hard, emerald eyes stared down at her. Everything inside of her shattered as she stared up at the laird who didn’t utter a word of complaint to the men streaming into the chamber.
How could you do this to me?
“What in the hell is going on in here?” a strange, angry male voice demanded.
Declan turned away from her to stare at the intruder. “You of all men should ken what you see. I am claiming my wife. Get out, Uncle.”
Somewhere in the far-too-crowded room, she heard Cortland threatening the men and knew from the sounds meeting her ears that his demands were not met. Unable to stop her head from looking, she saw a man who clearly resembled Merrick, the same light brown hair and brown eyes, only older and much nastier.
Her body recoiled under his harsh glare, and she had the presence of mind to realize she was naked and that Declan was still buried inside her, making her heated blood turn to ice. What is going on?
“What is wrong with you? Leave the chamber,” she heard Meggie cry out as the stout housekeeper pushed her way through the throng of men. So many men . . . Meggie lunged and pushed her way to the side of the bed. She gathered up the discarded robe Emma had willingly shed to allow Declan access to her body and said, “Quickly, my lady, into the robe.” The passion was a lie!
It took all of her control not to make a sound when Declan refused to budge. Unwilling to be a part of the spectacle any longer, her hand flew with instinct to use her forearm against his neck while she pushed his hipbone until he was forced from her body. She held in the wince at his rough departure and scrambled off the bed and into the waiting robe. Meggie’s hug did nothing to erase the horrible moment or the certainty she had just been used. Turns out I am the sacrifice and a complete fool.
Declan had no issue with the audience and moved to the side of the bed, almost leisurely picking up his plaid from the floor. Once it was wrapped around him, he turned to face the crowd.
Emma stayed in Meggie’s arms as Cortland and William pushed to the front of the room. Never had she seen such anger on Cortland’s face, and his rage centered on Declan. The man she had married only nodded at his two men and ignored their fury.
“I ask again. What is going on here?” Glenn demanded with his hands on his hips.
“In keeping with Draig custom, the bride has been bedded to complete the marriage,” Declan answered. His voice seemed far too calm and not at all surprised. Did he know this would happen?
“You can nay claim a woman who has bedded many and call it a marriage by custom,” Glenn challenged. His accusation earned him a withering glare from Cortland. “The whole of the village speaks of how the lass has warmed Declan’s bed for some time.” With a glance to Cortland, he added, “Keep your sword in place. As her father, you are well aware that many believe she used to earn her coin flat on her back.”
Emma turned to see Cortland draw his sword and point it at Glenn. “Men have died for less.”
Declan stepped forward, and Cortland’s sword pointed at the laird as he held out his hands asking for time. Facing his uncle, Declan said, “The village will speak of anything if it fills the days. The same is true at any well. Emma spent time in my chamber when I was ill, and she did the same for Mary. But I’m assuming you kenned I was sick.” Emma sighed, thankful the confrontation no longer centered on her.
Glenn’s gaze darted to Merrick who stared at her with pain-filled, soft, brown eyes. She looked away from him as Glenn responded. “I heard about the illness. How fine to see you healthy and hale.” Though she had never met the man, any could have heard the falsehood.
“My thanks,” Declan said with a chuckle. “Now leave. I have a new wife who needs to be begged for forgiveness for such interruptions.” He never turned to face her, though his arm reached out to snake around her hip. Tensing at his touch, she silently refused to step to him. Undaunted, he stepped to close the gap between them, yanking her close to his side and out of Meggie’s hold.
“As I said, your clan custom demands an innocent lass. You are nay wed,” Glenn said.
From the corner of her eye, she caught Declan’s sneer. “Uncle, if you view the sheet, you will find all as it should be. Emma is my wife in all ways.”
Glenn stepped closer to the bed, which allowed two more heads to come into view from the doorway. Emma turned her head to stare at Declan’s bare chest rather than count what had to be more than a dozen men, not including Cortland and William, and only a few were men she knew. Something rational clicked in her head, and she realized they were incredibly outnumbered.
“I see only what could have been accomplished by any small blade,” Glenn said after he viewed the bedding—a spot Emma was not willing to look.
Another strange man spoke. “A blade has been used on more than one occasion.” The man stepped forward. He was formally dressed in what appeared to Emma as a costume from a movie: leggings, doublet, and a frilly shirt. He had beady, dark eyes, and he made her stomach turn when he appeared to leer at her with eyes that roamed her from head to feet.
The man continued, “Greetings, Laird Draig. I am Angus, advisor to the crown.”
Declan let go of Emma and took a step toward the man. His plaid fluttered to the ground at his feet. “Mayhap the blood on my cock will convince you no blade was used.” Declan turned in a tight circle, lifting his hair to reveal the perfect skin on his back and made a show of presenting his hands and the soles of his feet. “You will find no cuts on my body. My wife came to me only.”
The crowd whispered as a woman pushed her way to the front of the gathering. Her pretty hazel eyes devoured the sight of a naked Declan. Small cat-like teeth showed in her smile, and she licked her lips. Bound blond hair rested on top of her head, and she leaned against Glenn, pushing her barely restrained bosom into his arm. “How nice to see you again, Declan.”
“Ciara,” Declan mumbled with his eyes locked on his uncle’s.
After Declan rewrapped his plaid, Angus said, “I believe all to be in order here. I am aware of the Draig’s customs. Provided there is a signed contract, there is little choice but to call the marriage complete.” I would swear I hear defeat.
Cortland stepped closer to Emma with his sword pointed down. She noted that he placed his body in front of hers in a clearly protective stance. “The contract is in the hall. Come with me, and any doubt shall be cast aside. My daughter has had to bear more than what is tolerable.” That would be an epic understatement.
“Mayhap Declan is the type of man to demand his wife shed her blood in any form,” Ciara purred, leaning against Glenn. Emma felt her jaw drop with the woman’s audacity.
/> Angus cleared his throat. “Ciara may have a point. Laird Draig, we need to view your wife.”
“No one views my wife,” Declan growled at the man. There was no question which version of him spoke; the laird was clearly in control.
In all her life, Emma could not recall having a nightmare with such intense crystal clarity. That the door had been unlocked was unmistakably no accident. She hated it, but in the moment, she understood it. For whatever reason, everyone seemed to delight in talking about exploits she never had. She had walked into a life, Esmeralda’s life, and that woman had been no saint.
In her time there, she had learned many of the clan’s traditions, including a blood-stained sheet. Staring blankly at Glenn, she could see the threat emanating from him; cold hard eyes glared at Declan and waited for a single misstep. She shuddered at the thought that the evil man could ever be considered a guardian for Mary.
Without thought, she stepped in front of Cortland and pictured the sweet little girl who needed to be kept safe from the horrible man. The faces of those she loved danced in her mind as her robe fell to her feet. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” Grandma always used to say.
“You have two heartbeats to see it done,” Declan growled through clenched teeth.
“There is a small wound on her thigh, but it appears healed,” Angus said. His hand rose to touch the scar.
“If you touch my wife, you will lose your hand,” Declan growled.
“You will die,” Cortland amended as Emma heard the blade slice up in the air.
Angus stepped back. The thought of him touching her anywhere made her skin crawl, and bile rise in her throat. She let the rest of the commotion float around her with little meaning. Though she heard the snide remarks about her lack of form and her small chest, she fought to keep silent as Ciara listed what Declan had a tendency to prefer. She ignored the others who made remarks about what they did like in her floorshow. Humiliation flooded her being, and Emma knew she would hear the taunts in her dreams for years to come.
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