Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The sky was darkening by the time Tyra and Ewan brought their dawdling horse through the portcullis and into the courtyard.
She could hardly bear to separate from him as they came to a halt and the groom dashed forward to take the reins. Ewan leaped down from the saddle and took her hand to assist her to dismount.
He brushed a loose strand of her long hair behind her ear and bent to whisper “I shall request the scullery maids tae bring water fer us tae bathe. Are ye happy enough tae dine in our chamber tonight?”
She nodded, feeling a rush of heat through her veins. She wished for nothing more than to spend an uninterrupted evening with Ewan. Surrounded by the same warm glow she had basked in that afternoon, she walked with him, her arm in his, to the keep.
Everything was different now. Where she’d left for their ride earlier feeling much as she’d done all through her unmarried days, the loving she’d shared with Ewan had changed her.
She now had a husband, and a lover, and no matter what tomorrow might bring, this had been a perfect day.
Everything she looked at, the cobblestones, the stairs, the flagstones and the tapestries, the paintings on the walls, all of it was brighter and more vivid that it had been before.
“If we are tae dine in our chamber, I would like tae speak a few moments with Edmund and Annora, fer they will be leaving early and this is me last chance tae be wi’ them.”
“Of course,” he said, smiling. “But dinnae be away fer too long, fer I shall miss yer company.”
She slipped away to find her brother and sister. They were resting in their chamber. When she entered, she could see their own happiness reflected in their faces. For once, she felt no pang, no envy, no wistful thoughts, but reveled in her own special glow.
She sat with them and quaffed a tankard of ale.
“I have been so happy tae have this time wi’ ye.” She looked from Edmund to Annora, both of them smiling back at her.
Annora leaned in, placing a hand on Tyra’s. “We didnae ken what might greet us when we journeyed from Skye tae Eilean Donan. Both of us were afeared something evil may have befallen ye.”
Tyra shook her head. “Nay, I have escaped the evil man and now I am… happy and safe.”
Edmund raised a hand. “I will be sad tae bid ye farewell, but we will sail tomorrow rich in the knowledge they ye are where yer heart should be. Ye are loved and protected, safe within the walls of a mighty castle and protected by the might of one of Scotland’s great clans.”
Annora smiled. “Ye have all that we have wished fer ye.”
That was exactly what Tyra had been hoping to hear. The words gladdened her heart. “I thank ye fer yer good wishes and fer signing the rèiteach that will bring our clans even closer.
“And when ye come next tae Scorrybreac, I shall gather the MacKinnons and the MacNeils tae feast wi’ us there.” Edmund leaned over to plant a soft, brotherly, kiss on her forehead.
Annora rose and escorted her to the door. “We shall dine in our chamber and take tae our bed early, fer we will be on our way at first light, hoping tae be home in Scorrybreac before dark.”
Tyra’s heart was fluttering as she made her way to the bedchamber she now shared with Ewan.
She was half-fearful his warmth may have faded, and that he may have returned to the cold, aloof, lad he sometimes presented.
She understood, now, the sadness and the horror he’d endured with his first marriage and why he had been so adamant about holding her at arm’s length.
He’d been fearful of their closeness yet drawn to her again and again.
Her palms were damp by the time she arrived at the door to their chamber. What had passed between them that afternoon had surely brought them to a point of fondness that would last. Something they could build upon as the days and nights passed.
The breath hitched in her throat as she knocked gently at the door, calling, “It’s me, Tyra.”
Ewan flung the door wide, and as she stepped inside he seized her in an embrace, and guided her across the chamber.
“Ye’ve been too long away, lass. I’ve missed ye.” Holding her close he bent his head, taking her lips with his in a kiss that flung all her doubts and fears to the stars and left her gasping with pleasure.
“Come,” he said, when they eventually drew apart. “The tub is filled fer us tae bathe.” He laughed, reaching for the first button on her gown. “Let me help ye take off this gown before the water grows cold.”
She sighed, delight surging inside her, as his nimble fingers slowly undid the long row of buttons at the front of her gown.
The scent of lavender drifted in the steamy air and she inhaled the delicate sweet fragrance, filling her lungs. Her senses soared high and bright with the touch of Ewan’s hands on her bare skin, the air swirling around her, warming her, the sound of his breathing rough and harsh with arousal.
She was aware of the bulge at the front of his britches and smiled to herself for now she understood what it was.
He huffed. “These buttons go on forever, Lady Tyra, why I think I’ll go mad before I have ye naked before me.” He leaned in and layered a row of kisses from the arch of her throat down her chest where the fabric of her gown had parted so that the tops of her breasts were now available.
She sighed deeply, her pulse racing, her skin blazing under this touch.
His fingers continued their task and, as button after button was undone, he laid open her dress, until both her breasts were on full display above her stays. Peeling back the gown from her shoulders, he paused, looking up into her eyes.
His gaze was as dark as a stormy midnight and as wild. As their eyes met, the hot, swirl of passion rushing through her veins was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
He took her breasts in his hand and she leaned into him, almost wild with wanting.
Groaning, he took each pink nub in turn to lave them with kisses, to suckle, to torment with finger and thumb, inciting a raging fire between her thighs in a place she’d never known existed.
They kissed again, his hands exploring, unlacing the stays, so that when they drew apart, she was bare to the waist, her gown around her hips.
She reached for the tie of his britches and fumbled with the knot until it was undone, the front of the trews folded back and his shaft sprang free of its constraint.
After hastily pulling off his britches he stood before her in nothing but his linen shirt. Reaching for the laces she undid them slowly, running her fingers across his chest, toying with the rough dark curls, tweaking his puckered nubs in the same way he’d dealt with her breasts.
He laughed, threw his head back, groaned, holding her tight to him. With urgent fingers he pushed away the gown so that it pooled at her feet, leaving her in only leather shoes and her silk stockings tied with pink satin ribbons at her knees.
He growled, looking her up and down, as she stood, her head back, her lips wanting his kisses, her body aching for his touch, her breasts tingling.
“The stockings. Off.” he commanded, taking a seat at the fire where he signaled for her to stand before him.
Her cheeks flushed with heat as he gazed at her. When she attempted to cover herself with her hands, he gently moved them aside so that she stood, boldly naked, his molten gazed upon her, lighting fires in every spot on her bare skin where his gaze fell.
“Ye’re the bonniest sight me eyes have ever set upon.” His voice was husky, coming from deep in his chest, almost a growl.
“Now, I wish tae see ye taking down yer stockings.”
He put his hands on her waist and turned her so that her backside was facing him. He traced the plump contours with his fingers, cupping the cheeks, tracing up her spine, causing her to wriggle and shift.
The sound of his moans inflamed the fire already raging inside her. He turned her again to face him.
“The stockings. Now.” He ground out the words as if he was in pain. As she bent to obey him, he placed both hands and cupped her breasts
“I cannae reach the stockings if ye dae that tae me.” She said with a faint giggle.
“Daes this nae pleasure ye?” he bent his head to suckle, swirling her ripe flesh with his tongue, nipping gently with his teeth, until she cried out, a strange guttural sound torn from her throat.
Mayhap she tried to call his name but it was lost somewhere in a moan.
When he released his hands, she raised a leg so that he could take off her shoe. Then she propped her foot on his knee and, still keeping her eyes on his, she slowly untied the ribbon holding her stocking and rolled the silken fabric down her calf.
He breathed in deeply, his darkened eyes fixed on her, as she at last removed the stocking. She replaced her foot on the rug and lifted her other leg.
Groaning, he traced his hand along her thigh to her mound, tangling his fingers in the silvery curls above her folds, tracing lower to her hot, wet slickness, causing her to press herself to his hand, moving her hips a little as she bent to roll down the stocking.
He wrenched the silk down and over her foot and pulled her onto his knee. Cupping her breasts he leaned her back over the arm of the chair to toy with her, sliding hands along her throat, her breasts, to her mound, stroking her folds, slipping a finger between her nether lips.
Tyra’s hand encountered the rock hardness of his shaft. Unthinkingly she clutched at his length through his shirt, gasping at the span and girth of it, moving a hand up and down to feel it.
“Milady,” he cried out, as if anguished. “Och, me dear, I cannae hold back if ye dae that tae me shaft. I’ll be done before we’ve even ventured into our wee tub and bathed.”
She gave a soft laugh. For all that she was burning up with desire, she knew he was the same. This was a game like no other. It took each of them higher with every tiny move and every breath they took.
Rising in his arms she placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Then, mayhap it is time we took tae the tub. If we dally further, the water will surely be too cold.”
Ewan hauled in a deep breath, breathed out noisily and, lifting her off his lap, but still holding her in his arms got to his feet.
“I shall dae as ye wish Lady Mackenzie. I am here tae serve yer needs.”
She chuckled at that. “And I yers, Laird Ewan.”
He strode with her to the place where the tub sat, still steaming. Then he lowered her, ever so gently, into the water.
She stretched out, the water deep enough to almost cover her shoulders, her head resting on the wide rim of copper.
After hastily pulling off his shirt, Ewan flung a leg over the edge of the tub and sank into the lapping warm water.
“Ah,” he said.
The water rose as he sank into it, covering Tyra’s breasts. He reached a hand, sensuously stroking and cupping them where they bobbed in the water.
“These wee rosy globes are a great delight tae me.”
She laughed, slipping a hand across his broad shoulders.
“Just as these braw, strong arms and shoulders delight me.”
She lay back in the tub, wallowing in the warmth, allowing the sensations to flood her senses. Raising her knee, Ewan slid his fingers along her thigh to revel in her damp curls, causing her to gasp with surprised pleasure.
“Yer body is an altogether wondrous creation.” He chuckled softly.
“As is yers.” She delighted in the shining glow of his rippling muscle outlined in firelight, and his strong hands holding her ankle.
He kissed her ankle, along her calf to her knee and then, lowering her leg, he took up the bar of scented soap and quickly lathered himself.
After he’d rinsed, he turned her around so that she lay back against his chest. He took his time, lathering her breasts, making the pink nubs pucker under his touch. He soaped her arms and down to the parts of her under the water, much as if she was a wean at her bath.
Then he undid her already wet braid and spread it with his fingers before slowly massaging the delicately scented lather through the long length of her hair. Satisfied with his handiwork, he ladled water from a bucket beside the tub, rinsing her hair free of suds.
“Mm. Methinks this must be what heaven is like.” She grinned up at him. “This is new tae me. I’ve ne’er had such care bestowed on me before.”
“It is me pleasure too, Lady Wife. And ye shall lather me back when I’ve done wi ye.”
Bathing with another was a newfound delight.
Ewan shifted himself around in the tub so that she sat behind him, her legs spread at his side and took up the bar of soap.
His hands slipped up her legs, causing her to gasp and giggle a little at his cheekiness and the distracting rivers of heat that came from his touch.
“If ye wish me tae pay attention tae this broad back I’m presented with, ye’d best nae distract me wi’ those hands of yers that dinnae ken their place.”
He gave a huff of indignation. “Very well. Pleasure me wi’ yer hands and I’ll keep me hands tae meself. At least fer now.”
Taking the lavender soap in her hand, Tyra, slowly slid it across his shoulders, sensing the strength of the muscles rippling under his skin.
She soaped from his nape, across his breadth and down each arm in turn, taking care to make him adjust his position so she could reach his underarm and toy with the dark hair in his pit.
He laughed. “Lass. What are ye about. Ye’re tickling!”
Glorying in the feeling of ownership she held over his powerful body she lathered the wide expanse of his back, fingering a scar that reached from his ribs.
“Is this from a great battle ye fought?”
Slanting her a rueful over-the-shoulder grin he shook his head. “Nay. I could pretend it was when I fought fer the Bruce, but truth tae tell I had it as a lad. I fell from the height of a great tree I was climbing tae gather an eagle’s eggs from the nest. A sharp branch ripped me.”
“Justice fer a lad stealing a noble bird’s eggs.” she gave a disparaging sniff, causing him to chuckle.
Her hands slipped beneath the water, traversing his back to take the path to his shaft. Beneath the water it was hard, standing upright. She allowed her fingers to grip it lightly, slipping up and down as if by accident.
He moaned and clutched her hand. “Nae yet, lass. There is more delight in store fer us yet.”
Chuckling, she moved her hand, her heart pumping fiercely at his words.
By the time she was done with her exploration of his body – running questing fingers over the smooth skin of his wide shoulders, over his chest, and around his middle – amid the sweet-smelling suds, and he’d lowered himself to rinse, the water was cooling.