Chapter 7
7
T he moon was high in the sky by the time the guests started to head up to their rooms. Ceana’s body was aching and hot from dancing. She was one of the very last few on the dance floor when her husband came up behind her and whispered in her ear, “Are ye ready to retire to bed?”
Her heart lurched. All the anticipation sank to her core as his hand found her waist, pulling her back against his chest so she could hear his voice above the music.
Ceana dipped her chin, but she couldn’t seem to force the words out of her mouth no matter how hard she tried.
“I will wait for ye in yer bedchambers. Dinnae be late,” he added in that husky voice that almost made her quiver. His hand tightened on her hip for a moment before he released her and walked out of the Great Hall.
The lightness that had been keeping her on her feet started to dissipate, and the reality of her situation sank in—she knew what was coming next. She was rooted to the spot, curling her fingers into her skirts as the remaining couple moved around her slowly.
Well, if her husband was waiting for her… then she ought to join him. She had promised to be available to him, after all.
Of course, it was going to be tonight—it was their wedding night. The sooner she conceived, the sooner she fulfilled her end of the bargain.
She bowed to the remaining guests, Emily, Freya, and their husbands, and then she kissed her mother and Ersie on the cheek before ruffling Peter’s hair. The boy was curled up on one of the chairs in the hall, fast asleep.
“The Laird made rooms available to all of ye. Ersie can take ye there,” Ceana said with a smile, hoping that her nerves weren’t showing on her face. She kissed her mother on the cheek once more.
“Ye are a beautiful bride, daughter.”
“Dinnae speak as if I am goin’ away. We will see each other all the time.”
“Ye will have so many duties now that ye are a wife and a Lady,” Ida continued, taking her daughter’s hand in her own. “Yer time will nay longer be yer own.”
“Well, I dinnae care. I will make time for ye. I always will. Send for me if ye need anything at all,” Ceana insisted.
She turned to leave before her emotions got the better of her. This would be the first time in her whole life that she would spend the night so far away from her family. They would sleep under the same roof tonight, but tomorrow would be an entirely different story.
Up the stairs and through the halls, she focused on nothing more than stepping over the smooth stones and rugs as she made her way to her wing. She had thought that she would feel dread or a sense of duty, but she felt… almost excited. The anticipation of what it might be like to lie with her husband was… well, perhaps it was immodest or indecent, but she thought that it might be the better part of the bargain for her.
Ceana walked into the room, before closing the door behind her and latching it. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her hands were shaking slightly. She turned around slowly as she smoothed down the front of her gown, acutely aware of her body when she looked up and found the Laird sitting on the edge of her bed.
He looked wholly unbothered, his palms resting on his spread knees as he watched her with that intensity that warmed her core in a way she had never experienced before.
She stopped in the center of the room, unsure if she should wait for him to tell her how this was supposed to go down or if he wished to undress her. Should she take control and do it herself? Perhaps if she weren’t so nervous, she might have taken matters into her own hands. He was a very handsome man, at least. She could have done much worse for herself. Objectively.
That was the logic she was going to follow.
There was absolutely no part of her that was willing to admit that she might be just a wee bit attracted to him.
Neil pushed off the bed, his hand moving to his belt and unbuckling it while he pulled his white linen shirt from beneath his kilt. She could hardly breathe as he closed the distance between them, towering over her. She had to crane her neck to look up at him.
“Ye’re so bonny,” he whispered.
She wanted to touch him. Her hands itched to move. But was it allowed?
“I dinnae think I could have made a better choice for a wife.” He raised his hand and curled his fingers around her chin, tilting it up ever so slightly to look deeper into her eyes.
Ceana stepped into him and rested her hands on his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt. “Ye arenae so hard to look at either, M’Laird.”
This time, he didn’t pull away. She rose on the tips of her toes to close the gap between them, but she needn’t have bothered. His arm banded around the small of her back, and he nearly lifted her off her feet as he kissed her.
Whatever nerves or thoughts swirling around in her head before he kissed her evaporated. He kissed her softly at first, brushing her lips with his as if learning her. His tongue traced the corners of her lips before sweeping across the seam, asking permission, which she happily gave him. Her lips parted in invitation, and he lifted her higher. Her hands trailed over the hard planes of his chest and his shoulders, and then tangled in his hair, fisting into the loose locks as she surrendered herself. There was no fear, no apprehension about moving with him as he wrapped her thigh around his waist.
It was such a strange thrill that coursed through her as his length settled between her thighs. It almost felt second nature, being in his arms, pressed up against him. It was almost frightening, the way her stomach fluttered as his hands kneaded her flesh.
She didn’t know if they were moving toward the bed or somewhere else, but she didn’t think it would matter much. He consumed her, as if he had always known just how to touch her and how to kiss her to make her toes curl.
His hands pushed up her skirts until he could grab bare skin, and then he lowered her onto the edge of her writing desk. Ceana heard things rattling and falling to the floor, but she paid them no mind. There wasn’t a single thing in this room that wasn’t replaceable.
Neil’s hands dropped between them, fumbling with the laces on the front of her dress as she trailed her hands down his chest and pulled at the tartan sash over his shirt. She’d never undressed a man before, so her movements were clumsy, as she wasn’t sure if there was a pin, if kilts were knotted or tied… but her enthusiasm didn’t waver.
Once he loosened her corset, he quickly parted the folds of her shift. He kissed his way down the side of her neck, a low groan of what she presumed to be hunger escaping his lips and vibrating into her skin. She was drunk on wine and sensation. Every place his lips touched seemed to tingle. His calloused palm closed around her breast, massaging it as his thumb teased her erect nipple. His other hand left her thigh just long enough to pull her dress down her shoulders and free her arms.
Ceana had never been a shy woman, but she had thought that baring herself to a man might make her blush. Right now, though, all she could think about was baring more of her body so that he would kiss it too. The hard length under his kilt kept pressing against her core, and she was nearly desperate to explore that feeling.
Impossibly strong, he lifted her with an arm around her waist to push her dress down her hips and kicked it aside. But something must have caught his eye, for he stopped suddenly.
“What? What is the matter?” Ceana gasped as she attempted to bring his mouth back to hers.
She tried to copy his motions, cupping his chin in her small hand and guiding him back to her lips, but he grabbed her wrist, halting her.
Neil bent, leaning to the side as he scooped up a folded piece of paper that she hadn’t even realized was in her dress. She must have put it in one of her pockets when she had been rushing around, getting ready this morning.
He turned the thing over in his hand, his eyes widening as he recognized his brother’s broken seal on the back.
“What is this?” he asked. All the lust seemed to have evaporated from his voice, leaving the hard, commanding tone of a laird.
Embarrassment flooded Ceana. Her skin cooled rapidly without the warmth of his touch, and she found herself pulling the folds of her shift over her breasts. “It is a letter?”
“Dinnae play me for a fool, wife,” Neil warned, his gaze hardening as he thrust the letter toward her. “Did ye have all of this planned then? Were ye both plannin’ to steal me fortune?”
What? Ceana could not properly voice her shock. Of all the conclusions to jump to, why did he think her capable of that ?
“Nay! Of course nae!”
“What is it, then? Do ye still love each other? Did he regret leavin’ ye? Because I’ve never heard of a groom runnin’ away from his wedding only to reach out to his bride again,” Neil pressed, his voice becoming more grave with every word.
Ceana had been totally honest with him. There was no romantic love between her and Blaine. “I told ye, it was nothing like that! He’s me friend . Of course, I have love for him in me heart. I miss him and want him to be well… like a braither! ”
Neil scoffed—actually scoffed in her face as he stepped away from her, shoving her skirts back down over her legs as he did so. “I find that rather hard to believe. Why would ye tuck his letter in yer dress, on yer wedding day, if ye didnae wish for him to be here instead of me?”
Rage and indignation bubbled up inside of her, and she thrust the letter back toward him. “Read it, then! I’ll nae let ye accuse me of something I didnae do!”
Being called a liar by her husband? That she would not tolerate.
“Go ahead!” she insisted, waving the letter toward him.
Neil’s eyes dropped to the letter, and for a moment, she was certain that his curiosity was going to get the better of him and that he was going to read it—but he didn’t.
“There’s nay need for this,” he said finally. “We will just revisit our terms. Ye might prefer me braither, or maybe nae. But now ye’re me wife, and ye’re stuck with me. I willnae claim ye until I’m sure I’m the only man ye think of.”
His lip curled as he walked back toward her. The fire in his eyes should have intimidated her, but it only further stirred the arousal that she was still reeling from.
“I’ll have ye desperate for me, wife. I dinnae like sharin’. If I’m wrong, prove it. Ye must beg for me.”
He leaned so close to her that she could have kissed him. It took far more effort to refrain from kissing him than she would have liked to admit.
In a single heartbeat, Neil’s gaze dropped to her lips before he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him so hard that the damned walls almost shook.