Chapter 20
20
Three weeks later
“Stay still, Iris! I cannae lace ye up properly if ye keep squirming like that!”
Iris huffed a breath. “Well, I feel like ye are squeezing mah insides, Gretna. Does it really have tae be that tight?”
Lena laughed as she weaved flowers in Iris’s hair.
“Come now, Iris. Dinnae ye want yer intended tae swoon at the first sight of ye?”
Iris wrinkled her nose. “Swoon? Nay, I dinnae want him tae.”
Her lips pressed together tightly, keeping the rest of her thoughts to herself. There were a lot of things she wished for James to do, but swooning was not one of them.
It had been three weeks since they had professed their love to each other and told their families, who didn’t seem that surprised at the announcement. In fact, Iris would wager that they all expected it somehow.
Still, James had been busy with the truce, and Iris had been busy with her sisters planning a wedding celebration, realizing for the first time that she far preferred to be facing her enemy on a battlefield than dealing with her overenthusiastic sister. Gretna had nearly taken on the entire celebration by herself, and Iris had long given up fighting her about what she would like.
“There,” Gretna finally announced, stepping back. “’Tis done.”
Iris turned to the mirror and gasped as she saw herself. Though she had lost some weight since the crushing death of their father, she still looked lovely in the pale cream gown, her bosom nearly threatening to spill over the square neckline. Her hair was down about her shoulders in waves, with braids woven in the thick curls so that Lena could place her flowers.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with anticipation. She was a woman in love.
“Ye look lovely, Iris,” Lena said softly, holding the bouquet of flowers that Iris would carry. “A vision.”
Gretna dabbed at her eyes. “James will likely swoon.”
The sisters laughed before a knock on the door cut through the chamber. Gretna opened it to reveal Ian in his finery, his tartan kilt showing off his muscular legs. His eyes widened as he took in Iris’s gown, letting out a low whistle.
“Ye look bonny, lass.”
Iris flushed and busied herself with smoothing the skirt with her damp palms.
“Is it time?”
He nodded. “I would like a word with ye first.”
“We will be downstairs,” Gretna said quickly, ushering Lena out and shutting the door behind them.
Iris cleared her throat, more nervous than she had ever been.
“I dinnae know wot I’m doing,” she confessed. “Am I really marrying James?”
Ian barked out a laugh. “Aye, lass. Now, if ye are changing yer mind?—”
“Nay,” she said quickly. That was the last thing she was thinking. She loved James fiercely, and now that she thought about not having him in her life, it seemed laughable.
Iris couldn’t thank him enough for coming for her. He made her feel complete. Nothing in her life, not being a warrior or her family, could make her feel the way he did.
“I didnae expect that,” Ian replied, holding out his hand. Iris took it and he pulled her into an awkward embrace, the smell of clovers wafting over her. “Da would be so proud of ye,” he said into her ear as he held her tightly.
“He would be proud of us all,” she forced out, emotions welling in her throat. “Ye will make a wonderful laird, Ian. Our clan is in good hands with ye.”
She knew it had been difficult for them all to lose their father when he passed on in his sleep one night without warning. Ian had taken it the worst, locking himself for weeks on end in his chamber after he had been crowned laird. She had never seen her brother in such a state before.
Ian cleared his throat and stepped away, dashing his hand at his eyes.
“Shall we get ye wed then?” he asked, holding out his arm. “For I think if we delay it any longer, yer groom will be coming tae look for ye.”
“We cannae have that,” Iris laughed as she took his arm.
They walked down the stone stairs to the great hall, where their entire clan had turned out for the union. Iris couldn’t help but smile as she saw the ropes of flowers that hung from the rafters, wondering where Gretna had found them in the winter like this.
There were candles everywhere, and the sweet smell of food cooking made Iris’s stomach rumble.
But it was the sight of James that had her heart tumbling over in her chest. He was standing before one of the Wallace elders, dressed in the ceremonial kilt of his clan, a white tunic draping his upper form. His eyes widened when he saw her, and she saw that his throat bobbed several times as they approached.
Ian unclasped her arm from his and gave her hand to James.
“Take care of mah sister,” he told the Scot, placing their hands together. “Or else I will let her kick yer arse.”
Iris blushed as she thought about their last sparring match when she had been able to pull out a win by distracting him. It wasn’t her finest win, but knowing that she had beaten him again had overridden her feelings.
“Aye,” James replied, squeezing Iris’s hand. “She is safe with me. I will protect her with mah life.”
“See that ye do,” Ian said before stepping back.
Iris gave James a smile, and he pressed his lips to the back of her hand, a promise of what they would find once they were allowed to go on to their wedding night.
She couldn’t wait.
After the ceremony was complete, James led her into their first dance as husband and wife, clasping his hand to her waist.
“Well?” he asked, his eyes alight with laughter. “Do ye regret it?”
She shook her head, her heart nearly bursting with happiness.
“Nay, I dinnae regret kicking yer arse.”
James leaned back and let out a bark of laughter, warming Iris’s very soul.
“Och, lass, ye know how tae make a Scot feel more like a man.”
She moved closer to her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and breathing in his scent.
“Well, Husband, perhaps ye will have tae show me how much of a man ye are.”
He grinned at her, pressing his forehead to hers. “Aye, I plan tae.”
Her blood heated at the thought of them alone, together and picking up where they had started that night. He could sear her with one look, one word, yet she knew there was more.
A great deal more.
After many rounds of toasting and a feast to rival the gods, James grabbed Iris’s hand.
“Come,” he told her, tugging her toward the stairs. “I dinnae wish for anyone tae notice lest they do something tae embarrass us.”
Iris agreed and stole up the stairs with him, directing him to her chamber that had been readied for their wedding night. After James shut the door, he picked up a chair and wedged it under the knob.
“There,” he stated, giving her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, love. I dinnae put anything past yer brothers.”
“And sisters,” she added, reaching up to remove the flowers from her hair. He swatted her hand away and plucked them out one by one, letting them fall to the floor. Iris closed her eyes at his sweet gesture, nervousness setting in. She didn’t know what to do with her new husband.
When he was done, James tilted her chin up, and she opened her eyes, finding him looking at her intently.
“Dinnae be afraid,” he told her, his eyes searching hers. “We will learn taegether.”
She nodded, and he brushed his lips over hers before his hands found her laces at the back of her dress, untying them until it loosened around her body. Their kissing grew frantic as Iris felt her dress fall to the floor, her hands already on his tunic to pull it off. She wanted everything off.
James broke their kiss, and with a growl, he yanked the tunic over his head, her hands already on the buckles of his kilt.
“Wait,” he breathed, stilling her hands. “I cannae. Lass, this is going tae be over with before it begins if ye remove that.”
“I dinnae care,” she told him, batting his hands away. “Please, James.”
He gave her a look before relenting to her, and Iris nervously undid the buckles, letting the kilt fall away. Her breath left her lungs as she took him in; how proud he stood out from his body, heavy with need.
“I told ye,” he said tightly. “I’ve wanted ye from the first moment I laid mah eyes on ye.”
Iris swallowed hard as she reached out and touched him, eliciting a groan from her husband.
“Ye’re vera bonny,” she forced out, her cheeks pinkening.
“Bonny is not the word I’m looking for right now,” James groaned, capturing her hand in his. “Git on the bed, Iris, love.”
Iris’s heart melted at the endearment and she did as he asked, watching with her heart pounding as he crossed the room and joined her.
“I want tae touch ye,” he said, his hand drifting down her naked form until he was cupping the place that secretly ached for him. “I want tae kiss every inch of yer skin.”
“James,” she gasped as he slid a finger inside her, her body clenching. “Wot are ye doing?”
“Shh,” he said, pressing kisses on her face and neck. “I wilnae hurt ye.”
She knew he wouldn’t, but this was different than the night they had together. When his thumb pressed into her folds, she promptly forgot about his finger inside her, moaning as he started to build the delicious pressure inside her.
Iris had forgotten how much she liked him touching her like this.
“That’s it,” he urged as his mouth found her breast. “Let go for me, mah love.”
Iris writhed under his touch, arching her body so he could move faster against the places that ached for him and him alone. When the pressure became too much to bear, she let go, crying out his name as her body bucked against his hand.
Iris was dimly aware of him pressing himself between her thighs, and she welcomed him, feeling his member press into her.
“I’m vera sorry, lass,” he panted near her ear. “I’m going tae have tae hurt ye.”
“’Tis alright,” she told him, marveling at the weight of his body against hers. “I trust ye.”
James pressed his lips against hers and pushed forward, his member filling her in ways she couldn’t have imagined before. There was a sharp prick of pain, but it was gone a second later, and Iris gasped when he lifted his head.
“Are ye alright?” he asked, strain evident on his face.
She nodded and he let out a breath, moving against her.
“’Tis going tae be quick, I’m afraid.”
Iris didn’t care. Her hands found his shoulders as he pumped in and out of her, bringing back the pressure that she thought was long gone. Her legs wrapped around his lean waist and she pressed her body against his, craving more of what he had given her with his hand.
Would it feel the same?
“That’s it,” he urged, the bed squeaking underneath them. “Give yerself tae me, Iris.”
“James!” she called out, her body letting go before she realized it.
He shuddered and groaned her name as well, the moment suspended in time between them.
Their union was consummated.
Panting, Iris looked up at James, who was staring down at her.
“Mah love,” he whispered, his eyes shining with the tenderness that Iris felt in her chest. There was nothing frightening about what they had experienced, nothing worrisome that made her question their union.
She only felt love.
“I love ye,” she told him, pressing her hand to his sweaty chest.
His smile was tremendous.
“I love ye as well, Iris.”