The Sinclair Jewels Books One-Three: A Scottish Medieval Romance Series Bundle

by Caroline Lee

  Well, she was quite pleased with her husband, and nearly breathless for what was to come. He wasn’t as big as David had been, but Jaimie’s stomach tapered to narrow hips which emphasized his member dragging her attention downward. It jutted straight out from its nest of thick hair, and as she watched, it grew larger and harder, until it stood up straight against his belly.

  Goodness, it certainly was long, wasn’t it?

  It was taking all her concentration not to press her thighs together to relieve the fierce ache at her core.

  Soon, she promised herself.

  Knowing that Jaimie was waiting, she let her approval show. “Ye are magnificent.”

  His neck flexed as he swallowed. “God’s blood, Agata,” he choked out in a rough whisper. “Ye’re damn near killing me.”

  “Aye, ye’ve done verra well sharing so much of yerself with me. Ye deserve a reward.”

  Her hands were already by her sides, so she began to gather her chemise, inching it up her legs. She revealed her stocking-clad legs, but she halted her movements when the linen material was bunched right below her hips. She loved the way his gaze was riveted on what had already been revealed, and he could barely contain himself.

  Smiling, she lifted the chemise over her head and was soon standing there in aught but her stockings.

  He groaned and took one jerking step forward, as if pulled by an invisible string, but managed to stop. When his eyes met hers once more, there was a hunger there which made her feel very wanted.

  She stretched her arms toward him, and the silent permission was all he needed. He was on her in a flash, and only hesitated a moment before wrapping his arms around her. She gasped at the sensation of his long member pressed against her belly, and she couldn’t help the way she wiggled against him, the pressure sending all sorts of delightful sparks through her.

  But as much as she was ready to feel him inside her again, that wasn’t what he needed.

  He needed confidence. He needed to see himself the way she saw him.

  So, she stroked the hairs at the back of his neck and whispered, “Pleasure me, Jaimie.”

  Something flashed in his dark blue eyes.

  She smiled in encouragement. “Pleasure me until I beg.”

  With a groan of surrender, he lowered his lips to hers, then quickly moved to her jaw and neck. After the way he’d kissed her in her chambers, this was… this was everything she and her sisters had ever discussed and more. She sighed and dropped her head back, allowing him better access to her collarbone, where he nibbled.

  One of his hands was pressed to her back, and the other dropped to her breast. Jaimie cupped it, then pulled back just enough to stare down at her.

  Agata moaned low in her throat and shifted on her feet in an effort to relieve the delicious ache between her legs.

  It must’ve been all the encouragement Jaimie needed, because he hummed and lowered his mouth to her breast, nipping gently at the bud with his teeth. When his tongue rasped across the sensitive part again, she whispered his name.

  He kept his hand on her, but moved his attention to her other breast, drawing the nipple into his mouth. She bent further to give him better access. With a growl, he pushed her back as he stepped with her, and before she understood what had happened, she was lying on his bed with him leaning over her.

  “Jaimie,” she whimpered, squirming against the coverlet. Instinctively, her legs opened, and she had to press her hands into the mattress to keep from reaching for him and urging him inside her.

  Not yet. Soon.

  “Is that ye begging, lass?” he growled.

  “Nay!” she gasped, writhing. “No’ yet.”

  The right corner of his mouth lifted in a wicked grin. “I’ll persevere.”

  He knelt between her legs—as he’d done on their wedding night, but this time, mutual passion ruled their hearts. His hands closed possessively around her breasts and he leaned down. He placed soft kisses against the skin near one nipple, then the other, reaching the valley between them. His thumb brushed against her nipples. When his lips reached her breastbone, he pushed both mounds together until the faint whiskers on his cheeks scraped her sensitive skin. In response, she arched.

  “Jaimie!”

  “No’ yet,” he said.

  As she forced herself to be patient, he trailed kisses down her stomach, circling her navel with his tongue before going lower.

  She was so caught up in the anticipation, she barely noticed when his hands left her breasts to trail down her sides and grasped her hips. It wasn’t until he slid from between her legs to kneel on the floor that she realized what he was going to do.

  Lifting herself on her elbows, she was just in time to see him lower his face to her inner thighs, and gasped when he nipped gently. Instinctively, she spread her legs wider and loved the way his gaze was immediately drawn to her womanhood.

  “God Almighty, lass,” he whispered. “Ye’re wet already.”

  “Aye, husband, for ye.”

  He needed to understand that he alone was responsible for her excitement. His eyes flashed to hers, and aye, there was passion in their dark depths and pride, too.

  It was the most attractive she’d ever felt, watching him prepare to pleasure her. Oh, she’d touched herself, knew how to find release. But this? Knowing a man wanted her enough, cared for her enough to bring her pleasure? And knowing she could watch him as he did…? That was the purest form of confidence in herself.

  Slowly, reverently, he leaned forward until his breath tickled her curls. Then his thumbs spread her, revealing her most intimate spot.

  He groaned with desperation.

  She dropped back against the mattress as his thumb pressed against her nub of pleasure and he kissed and licked her core.

  She raised her hips, desperate for something more—something that would bring them closer.

  Pressure built within her as his thumb worked against her most sensitive spot. She was going to…

  “Nay!” she gasped, raising up so she could see him. “I want to feel yer fingers inside me, please!”

  “Shh, lass,” he whispered, urging her back once more.

  She relented, but he didn’t let her look away. Nay, he held her captive with his intense stare and the way his fingers moved over her flesh. Her breaths came more rapidly, erratically.

  That’s when he slipped one finger inside her, and she cried out.

  “That’s it, lass,” he coaxed, using the heel of his hand to rub her pearl as he stroked with his thumb. “That’s it, Agata. Come for me.”

  “Oh, Jaimie.”

  He slipped another finger inside her, and she writhed and closed her eyes.

  “I can feel ye,” he whispered hoarsely. “Soft and tight around me. Ye want me inside ye, wife? Ye want to feel my cock deep in here.” He moved his fingers, and her hips bucked. “Ye’re aching for me, Agata.”

  “Aye,” she moaned.

  “Say it, wife. Beg me.”

  She was too deep in the throes of passion to deny him. “Please, Jaimie.”

  With a cry, she felt herself hurtling toward the clouds, the sweet pressure building beyond what she could imagine. The sensations, they were—they were…

  “Come for me, wife.”

  She screamed his name as she let go, bursting apart. She felt his lips on her once more, his fingers continuing to tease and fulfill her every need.

  She was flying.

  And then, she felt him withdraw, felt the mattress lurch as he climbed onto the bed. His hands were on her hips, her stomach, her breasts, before she was able to force her eyes open, her insides still spasming and her breath coming fast and heavy from the strength of her climax.

  He braced one hand over her shoulder, the other stroking his length the way he had on their wedding night. Except this time, the look on his face wasn’t anger, but a hunger so deep, she couldn’t wait another moment.

  “Agata,” he whispered, and she knew what he was asking.

&n
bsp; She repositioned her legs, knees bent, inviting him inside her. The relief on his face was evident as he grabbed onto her hips and plunged inside her on a powerful thrust.

  Oh, yes.

  He groaned and dropped his forehead to the crook of her neck.

  “What are ye doing?” she panted, desperate to capture that marvelous sensation once more. Why wasn’t he moving?

  When he lifted his head, his grin was downright devilish. “Waiting for ye to beg, wife.”

  The sound which escaped her lips was part laugh, part moan, and all joy. “Please!” she managed to gasp.

  Taking pity on her, he slid out just a fraction, then plunged home once more. Taking him to the hilt, she arched her back, reveling in the sensations as her hands scrambled at his shoulders. As he worked within her, she wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him to pump harder. His breaths came faster and faster, a grunt escaping his lips each time he slammed into her.

  His eyes were filled with wonder. His fierce desperation sent her spiraling to release again. They moved together as if they had done this a thousand times before—a perfect fit.

  As if knowing exactly what she needed, Jaimie took all of his weight on one hand, and reached between them to stroke her pearl.

  “Aye, lass,” he growled, his eyes not leaving hers. “Come for me again.”

  “Jaimie!”

  Her entire body burst with pleasure. He tossed his head back and roared her name as he bucked against her, filling her with the most delicious warmth.

  Eventually he rolled to one side, pulling her into his arms.

  Her head was tucked under his chin, one of her legs thrown over his thighs.

  Their breathing evened out, and she drew small circles on his chest while he absently played with her hair. Finally, she figured she’d waited long enough.

  “Ye ken,” she said in a low voice against his skin, “I’ve never done that before.”

  He lifted his head to look down at her, so she pulled away to meet his gaze, making sure all of her sincerity and pleasure showed.

  “Never done what?” he asked with a frown. “Surely ye’ve…”

  “Aye,” she agreed, knowing what he was asking. “I’ve found pleasure. And I’ve been bedded.” She smiled a little shyly. “But never both together.”

  He sucked in a breath, his brows shooting up in surprise.

  Nodding, she lifted herself up on one elbow to gaze down at him. Her hair had fallen out of its plait and tumbled over one of her shoulders. Her hand wandered down his body and to his manhood.

  He stopped her exploration and growled, “Agata.”

  “I’ve never been bedded by a man who cared for my pleasure, husband. Ye’re the first to bring me such joy.”

  He didn’t immediately react. In fact, she held her breath, willing him to understand what she was trying to tell him. The confusion in his eyes slowly turned to pride, and a smile brightened his face.

  She nodded encouragingly and pulled her hand away to poke him in his chest. “Ye did that, Jaimie Mackenzie. And do ye ken what else?”

  Without waiting for him to answer, she leaned down and placed her lips beside his ear. “Ye did it with yer fingers,” she whispered.

  A laugh burst out of him and he reached for her, but she rolled away, her laughter joining his. They ended up on the other side of the bed, but he eventually pinned her with his body, looming over her as he grinned down at her.

  “Ye were right,” he admitted. “I did do that.”

  She clasped his hips, holding him in place. “I’ve said time and again ye’re still the same man ye were three years ago, Jaimie, and I’m pleased to be able to prove it to ye.”

  His expression turned thoughtful just before he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was sweet and full of promise.

  When he pulled back, there was something else in his eyes. Something she couldn’t identify, but which seemed important.

  “Agata, I—”

  She felt as if they’d been on the verge of something important. “Aye?”

  He shook his head, as if to chase away whatever thought he’d been having before grinning down at her once more.

  “I was wondering how in the hell ye managed to get so dirty. I’ve been training, aye, but ye looked as if ye’ve been chasing cobwebs all morning!”

  Without giving her a chance to explain, he rolled off her. “Come, wife.” He pulled her to her feet.

  Her eyes widened as he twined his fingers through hers and led her toward the still-steaming bath. “What do ye have in mind?” she asked a little breathlessly.

  He grinned over his shoulder. “’Tis time I washed yer hair.”

  A stab of disappointment went through her. “Oh. Ye want me to take a bath? Alone?”

  His hand still in hers, he stepped into the tub and tugged her closer. “Nay. I have all sorts of ideas of things to try together in here, and I’m determined to try all of them.”

  And as she sunk into the deliciously warm water in front of him, Agata sighed, part in pleasure, part in anticipation. Because that had very much sounded like a promise.

  Chapter Ten

  Jaimie woke face-down on his bed, his legs spread in one direction, his arms in another. He groaned as he rolled onto his side. He felt like warm butter, every muscle relaxed, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept so well.

  No, that wasn’t true. He’d slept just as well the time he’d woken with his arms around his wife, and for the same reason.

  Agata had been… amazing.

  Where was she? Although he knew she wasn’t in bed with him, he forced his head up to look around the chamber. No Agata. He flopped back on the pillows with a satisfied sigh, deciding wherever she’d gotten to this morning, he wasn’t too concerned. Judging from the angle of the sun through the window, he’d slept late, but—a self-satisfied grin tugged at his lips—he deserved it.

  After he’d brought her to climax twice, they’d climbed into the tub. Remembering what he’d fantasized about the last time he’d stroked himself, Jaimie had held her between his legs as he’d washed her hair…then her breasts and everything else he could reach, until she was hot and begging for release.

  He glanced at the tub. Most of the water had ended up on the floor, come to think of it.

  After their relaxing soak, the chatelaine had sent up supper on a tray, and Jaimie didn’t think he could ever recall a more perfect meal, curled up naked in bed, feeding one another bread and cheeses and sipping on wine while they spoke of their plans for the future.

  Speaking of plans… Jaimie propped the pillows behind his head as he reached for a piece of the now-hard brown bread left on the tray on the bedside table. As he broke his fast, he eyed the rumpled bedsheets.

  Last night, Agata had shyly mentioned her dream of becoming a mother.

  He’d joked about looking forward to making it possible, but in reality, the idea was more than a little terrifying. He’d barely begun to get his life in order once more, and it was entirely thanks to his new wife. Raising Callan was enough of a challenge, and the boy was already half grown.

  A bairn? He had to admit, as terrifying as the prospect was, the idea of watching Agata’s body change while carrying their bairn… it did something odd to his heart.

  If they continued the way they had last night, it might very well happen. In fact, he’d woken her sometime after midnight by fondling those glorious breasts of hers, and with her arse pressed against him like that, it’d been a simple matter of sliding inside…

  Beneath the coverlet, he felt himself stir, and grinned again. It seemed his cock couldn’t get enough of his wife.

  Where was she? Had she crawled back to her own bed? Jaimie’s grin faded. Did she not like sleeping with him? Well, there was a reason the lady of the keep had her own chamber. Although he had no plans on moving into the laird’s chambers, mayhap he could discuss with his wife how often he could visit her room.

  The thought of merely visiting his wife,
after having her in his arms all night, was enough to sour his mood. He tossed the bread back to the trencher and swung his legs out of bed.

  Her gown was gone. Had she pulled it back on before she’d left or slipped back into her room to get dressed? Her dress had been filthy, although come to think of it, she’d never answered his question of what she’d been doing to get so dirty.

  His gaze rested on the tub, and his lips twitched in pleasure once more. Aye, he’d asked her that right before he’d pulled her into the bath with him, and her body had been enough of a distraction he hadn’t minded her not answering him, had he?

  Whatever she was doing, if she was getting dirty again, he’d take her to the loch this time. He’d strip her down right there on the shore and carry her into the water, and to hell with anyone who happened to be watching. She was his, and as far as he was concerned, he was hers.

  Reaching for his kilt, he considered what had passed between them last night. When she commanded him, he was helpless to resist, but he understood what she’d been trying to teach him. He tied his hair back with the same thong she’d left him last night, made short work of dressing, then stared down at his ruined hands.

  Only now, thanks to Agata, he didn’t see them as quite so ruined. Aye, the fingers were stunted, and they’d never be whole again. But she’d shown him everything they could do. He could wield a sword and best a warrior. He could paint and hold a stylus. And he could love a woman.

  Love? Aye, he was in love with Agata. And not the way he’d loved Aileen, but with something purer.

  While Aileen had enjoyed influence over men—Jaimie in particular—he knew Agata had only taken control of his life because he’d been unable to. Everything she’d done for him in the last weeks had been for him, to make his life better. She was caring and capable and strong, and for some reason, she saw him as worthy enough to save.

  She hadn’t seen him as weak, and had proven it.