Freezing, his guts twisted as he realized he might have made a tremendous error.
His horse had once eaten too much lavender and become ill. Ever since, the beast had hated the flower. Bucking, moaning, and complaining whenever the scent was near. Exactly what he’d done anytime Blair ventured close.
The second mistake he’d made was forcing his new bride to ride for weeks on end when she’d not been accustomed to traveling at all. She was probably exhausted, lonely, and missing her former home. The new understanding didn’t, however, explain her absence in the village when he’d been attacked.
A knock sounded at the door. Still contemplating his mistakes, he stepped toward the door and pulled it in to admit several men carrying a tub. Servants ran in and out with buckets, filling the bath with warm water.
“Cook is preparing the meal. It should be up within the half hour.” He nodded at the servant and gave the lad a coin.
After the door clicked into place, he bolted it then pivoted to see his wife contemplating the bath. Her cheeks flushed a shade of pink to rival the prettiest roses in England.
“I hoped ye would enjoy it after our journey.”
“It looks lovely.”
“We will arrive at my estate tomorrow, and I thought it might make ye more comfortable to bathe before we arrive.”
“Aye.” She blushed.
“Dinnae be ashamed.” Approaching her, his hand fell onto her small waist. Circling behind her, he felt her shiver beneath his palm, but instead of pulling away, she leaned into his touch.
He pulled the strap binding the tip of her hair free. “I ken why ye’ve been pleating yer hair for the journey, but I prefer it down.”
“I can do that,” she said, but she made no move to pull away as he deftly unbraided the plaits.
“Nae. I’ve wanted to feel these silky strands run through my fingers.” Once the waves fell free to her waist, his fingertips roamed upward as the smooth tresses slid through his hands. He massaged the tender flesh of her scalp. Her head tilted into the movements.
He drew her hair to the side and let his hands trail down her back, savoring the feel of her fevered skin beneath her shift. The material was already loose. He reached up, pulling the gown from her shoulders and placing gentle kisses on the newly exposed skin up the curvature, along her neck.
She leaned into him for support. He continued to caress her skin, and she moaned.
“If I dinnae stop, ye will not make it into that water while ’tis still warm.” He nibbled at her ear, and she arched into him.
Tonight, he would do more than just sleep with Blair, but he was determined to do this right after the mishandled opportunities and resentments.
“Hmmm,” was her only response, as if he’d set her at ease and she was looking forward to him ravishing her. It didn’t help his self-control.
Pulling away, he instructed, “Bathe. We will have all night for me to teach ye how a woman should be cherished.”
She sat in the chair and removed her slippers. Watching as she slid the stockings from her legs, he imagined his fingers gliding down her calf then back up again, all the way to the center of her, the part he ached to touch and taste.
Noticing the dust on her stockings, he frowned. She only had two changes of clothes for their journey, and she’d taken care to hang her garments each night, but it hadn’t been enough.
“I need to see to something, so I’ll give ye some privacy for yer bath. Lock the door behind me.”
…
A short time later, Finlay found himself outside the chamber he was sharing with Blair. Anticipation coursed through his veins. Inserting the key into the lock, he turned the handle and pushed open the door to see her sitting at the dressing table wearing only her shift and brushing her long golden hair.
Was she humming? He couldn’t place the tune, but it was pleasant. Quietly pulling the door closed behind him, he locked it and moved toward her. Reaching out, he touched her shoulder. She flinched then turned, but when she saw it was him, she smiled.
“Ye smell nice.”
“Lemons.”
“Hmm,” he said as he lifted a strand of her wet hair and brought it up to his nose.
“They have molded soap. It smelled of lemons.” Her eyes lit with a childlike amusement.
“Do ye like it?”
“Aye. I didnae ken that it could be put in such an easy form.”
“I’ll keep ye supplied in it, if it pleases ye.”
“I’ll bathe before they bring the meal.” Before he could push her too fast, he hurried over to the tub, where he undressed and climbed in.
Blair called over her shoulder, “I hope ’tis no’ too cold for ye.”
“Nae, ’tis fine.” Truly, it had chilled, but he welcomed the cool, because it gave a slight relief to the part of him that had sprung to life upon being near his wife.
She rose and meandered toward the bed, her hips swaying through a material he noticed was quite thin. The cold water’s effects dulled as he again started to yearn for the lass as she sat lazily on the bed. “Do ye always stay at this inn as well?”
“Nae. I think ’twill have to reevaluate our route for future trips. I feel like a negligent husband making ye sleep in some of the places we have.”
“The bed does feel soft.” She fell back on it and spread her arms out, sliding her fingertips over the bedding.
Upon climbing out of the tub, he started for his wife, who had tempted him by laying out like an offering on a tray at English teatime. Hell, he’d lost his mind. She had her eyes closed, peace and contentment on her face.
He was stopped by a knock on the door.
Her eyes flung open.
Cursing, he grabbed his plaid, wrapped it around his waist, and vaulted toward the door, drops of water sliding down his legs, reminding him he’d not taken the time to dry.
The same lad he’d given coin to earlier was holding a platter overflowing with filled plates, cups, and a pitcher. Another lad accompanied him holding a bundle of something else. Stepping aside but attempting to block the men’s view of Blair, he let the servants enter and set down the tray and bundle.
Once he’d shut the door behind the servants, his wife bounded toward the table. “I’m so hungry.”
Their meals had been sporadic on the trip. Something else he would have to work on in the future. Worry stabbed at him as the cook’s message sprang into his thoughts—the pantry at his home might be empty upon their arrival. What was he taking his new wife to?
“It smells delicious.”
Sitting, she glanced up at him and smiled, the gesture pushing away his fears and giving him hope. She made no move for the food. “Are ye going to join me?”
“Aye.” He picked up a pin and fastened the tartan. Not bothering with a shirt, he returned to the table.
“Ale?” Blair asked as she held his cup out for him.
“Aye.”
She took a sip of her own as his gaze lingered on her over his cup. She’d gathered up her long hair and had it draped over one shoulder. He wanted to feel it now that it had dried some.
Glad to see she appeared at ease, he said, “I’m sorry.”
Blair’s head tilted. She took another sip of her ale.
“I didnae mean to doubt yer loyalty or assume I knew what ye wanted.”
She appeared shocked. Then, a small smile curved her lips.
“Can ye forgive me?”
“Aye.” She beamed, rising and closing in the short distance between them to place a quick kiss on his lips. “Thank ye.”
She kissed him again, but this time he coiled his arm around her waist and drew her down onto his lap. His breath became ragged.
He’d gone too long without his mouth moving on hers, without the touch he’d been craving for days. She sighed and tilted to give him better access, and that set his body on fire. Her surrender, the way she leaned into his body, spoke of a trust he’d only dreamed of gaining from her.
As hi
s tongue delved between her lips to find hers, they became one, twirling and caressing. His fingers curled around her waist, tightening his grip and ensuring she not flee this world-shattering kiss. They had kissed a couple of times, but in this moment, there was something new, a bond that couldn’t be broken, faith that had been earned, and surrender that tasted like honey and ale.
Their mouths still joined, he rose, holding her, and veered toward the bed.
Chapter Thirteen
Blair’s body burned, blazes bursting to life on the sensitive areas of her skin where Finlay’s hands slid down her as he eased her feet to the floor. He backed away, and she shivered at the loss of his warmth until his heated gaze returned to her with a longing so intense she thought she would ignite.
Swallowing, she shuddered and averted her eyes.
“Look at me,” came the gravelly order that sent awareness down to her core.
He lifted her chin, and she met those multicolored eyes.
“I’m going to go slow.”
She thought she felt herself nod but couldn’t tell if she’d made the move or if the room was tilting.
His hand circled her nape, fingers cradling her head as his mouth came crashing down on hers. Lips tingling, she felt another odd sensation as her chest rubbed against his. Her breasts felt tight and full, like they’d swelled under her shift, which now felt impossibly tight.
Her hands reached for his side, and she was rewarded with taut flesh. She explored from his hips to his back then pulled herself on her toes and up onto his solid form to deepen the connection.
Vaguely aware of him moving as his mouth worshipped hers, she felt a light brush of air as his hands drew her shift up to her hips, revealing her bare skin and bringing back that feeling of being vulnerable and exposed. She shivered and dropped to the balls of her feet, severing the connection.
His eyes had dilated, and his body had become tense and rigid like the walls of an impregnable fortress. His breathing appeared labored, or was that hers?
Licking his lips, he stilled, seeming to ask permission.
Her heartbeat accelerated, but she took a breath and nodded.
Thumbs hooked the outside of the thin material while the rest of his fingers dipped to the inside and lifted. The backs of his knuckles skimmed her hips and then her waist, causing gooseflesh to rise on her flesh at the feather-light touch. The quickening of her pulse and tingles that lit in her body felt right. This was what being with a man was supposed to be like, or maybe this was better, because she wanted each caress to go on forever.
“Lift yer arms.” Then, his mouth was on hers again, drowning any reservations she had as his tongue moved over hers and stole her inhibitions. His lips dipped to her neck, where he nibbled and sucked until she barely felt the slow rise of her shift and forgot any embarrassment as the sensations took her away.
He trailed slow, warm kisses up her neck. Reaching her ear, he nibbled at the lobe. Once, fire shot through her, twice, a need took hold in a way she’d never experienced. Heat pooled at her core as her body recognized that she shouldn’t fear what she was feeling but should embrace it. Arching, she rose on her toes again, laying bare her desire for him and admitting that she had succumbed to his touch.
“Trust me, wife.” And that one word pulled her under—the word that said she belonged to him—for truly in that moment she did. The outside world had washed away as if only her husband and she were alive. She nodded.
Continuing with his attentions, he drew her shift up. Her body followed his will and that of the fabric. She wasn’t sure what had happened with her undergarment, but his arms had returned to circle around her. Her breasts tightened and felt full as his hard chest rubbed against her.
A slight movement backward had her thighs hitting the soft surface of the bed. His hands lowered to her hips, guiding her down, giving her instructions with his movements. Stepping away, his heated stare trapped her eyes in his. What she saw there awoke the primal woman in her, and she felt as if she held all the control, not this powerful man who towered over her with the authority of a stone fortress.
Feeling confident, she started to back onto the mattress, an invitation for him to join her. He withdrew the pin from the plaid still wrapped around his waist.
Her mouth watered, and she was certain her eyes rounded as her pulse raced. He put one knee on the bed and climbed on after her. Lowering onto his side, his hand reached out, fingers forking into her hair as he drew her in for another kiss.
As their mouths danced in a tangled bliss, his leg gently rested on top of hers and wedged itself between her thighs, spreading them apart with a slow, deliberate ease. His stiff rod poked her upper leg, and instead of it scaring her, she moved into it, welcoming the part of him that might give some relief to the pressure building in her center.
His mouth continued to devour hers as his palm slid from her nape, down her shoulder, to her breast, where it stopped. He cupped the engorged flesh and she bucked into his touch as new sensations awoke inside her. His lips broke free from hers as his dilated hazel gaze watched her. He worked to control his breath, then a small hungry smile curved up before his head dipped again.
Those tempting lips didn’t land on her mouth but the peak of her breast, kissing, then sucking. She gasped, and he nipped at the tender skin as his hand dipped lower, reaching the spot where her core met her leg. He drew lazy circles on the spot as his mouth continued to work magic. She tilted her hips into his touch, seeking more than the tingles that had erupted at his teasing.
“Finlay.” The rasping plea came from somewhere deep inside.
His hand stopped moving.
Nae, she didn’t want him to stop.
And the ravenous stare he gave her proved he didn’t want to stop, either. He joined her mouth with his in an intensity that had not been there before. It was as if he, too, was feeling this all-encompassing desire that threatened to leave her forever wanting if he didn’t sate her torturous desire.
Suddenly, strong fingers glided up and down her passage, and to her surprise, they slid back and forth as if they were in the water. When his finger circled the nub above her slit, teasing, it drove her mad with a need she’d never felt before. Gasping into his mouth, she reached up and clutched his arm, pleading for more. He removed his hand just as she felt something was about to burst.
Shifting, he rose, leaving her cold and wanting. Wishing for his lips back on hers, his touch to soothe the sweet ache between her legs. He positioned himself between her legs and moved his rod up and down like his fingers had, and she found the slickness was still there. The friction of the flesh at her most intimate area heated her even more.
His gaze steady on hers, he guided his swollen staff slowly into her passage. It didn’t hurt. Quite the opposite. The pressure massaged her channel and felt nice…no, that wasn’t the word for it. Heavenly, because surely this pleasure was more than anything she’d ever imagined, at least until he buried himself deep inside her and rocked his hips back and forth.
She gasped as her fingers dug into his hips, drawing him farther in. A pulse burst through her, a delicious warning that there would be more. Another, and her mouth fell open.
Then, they assaulted her, one sinfully pleasurable wave after another. And she was panting as she fell into a sweet oblivion where nothing existed except the ecstasy that had devoured her.
He cried out, continuing to drive harder. Then he slowed, but his breath became ragged as he collapsed onto his elbow, just barely stopping before putting the whole of his weight on top of her.
Shifting onto his side, he lay beside her, tracing the curves of her flesh. She’d had no idea being intimate with a man could feel so right.
…
Maybe it was that he’d spilled his seed inside Blair, but Finlay had never longed to stay so near a woman after being intimate with her. He found himself in new territory, not wanting to move from his wife’s side and wishing for nothing more than to fall asleep and wake in the s
ame position, to start all over again.
After a few moments of blissful silence as they lay cradled in each other’s arms, he thought she had almost drifted off until her stomach rumbled.
“Come, wife.” Och, he enjoyed calling her that. Sliding his arm from under her and placing a soft kiss on her forehead, he rose. “Ye need some food in yer belly. I cannae have my servants thinking I’ve starved ye upon our arrival tomorrow.”
What he left unsaid was that she might need her strength to deal with the potentially dire straits of his estate.
Blair inched from the bed, holding the blanket to her bare body as she searched for something, possibly her shift. He considered kicking it under the bed so she never found it—he thought he might like to dine nude with her.
And maybe one day he would, but for now he wanted her to be comfortable. Reaching down, he picked up the garment. “Blair.”
She pivoted toward him, and when he threw it over, she dropped the blanket to expose the creamy expanse of her pale, petite form, and he wanted to toss her back on the bed to plunge into her once again.
He refrained. Peeling his gaze away to give her a moment of privacy, he walked back over to the table, where the food still sat cooling on the tray. Sitting down, he picked up a cup of ale and took a big swig. It was smooth and hearty, better than the watered-down ale typically found in England.
Blair joined him and took a sip from her own cup. “I didnae realize how thirsty I’d become.”
She picked up a fork and started moving the food around on her plate as if she were a child, making hills and trenches to ready little toy soldiers for battle.
He laughed. “What are ye doing, lass?”
“I have to get the cheese out of the way. Everything else looks fine.”
“And what did the cheese do to offend ye?”
“It makes me ill. I’ve never been able to have it.”
“I thought ye liked cheese. ’Tis why I’ve been trying to feed it to ye.” He took a gulp of ale.
“Nae, it makes me feel unwell.”
“Well then, I willnae order it for ye anymore.” Taking her plate, he turned it sideways and used his fork to push it onto his plate.
Highland Salvation (Highland Pride) Page 12