Chapter 24
The door to Ailis’s bedchamber opened with a creak.
“Honestly, does nay one knock in this castle? Were ye all taught to barge in as ye please?” she huffed, her hand flying to her chest in fright.
She had just stoked a hearty fire to warm herself through what was bound to be a lonely, cold night and had settled onto the chaise longue to stare at the flames for a while. A habit she had developed at Castle Ainsley to while away long hours of solitude.
Still, she wasn’t sorry that Paisley or Rachel had barged in; she had been hoping someone would, so she could ask for a medicinal tea to help her sleep.
The trouble was, it wasn’t the healer or the maid.
“Killian?” she gasped, grabbing a cushion to cover herself, for she wore nothing but the flimsy nightdress that the—apparently optimistic—seamstresses had made for her wedding night.
Aye, because he hasnae already seen ye naked, a voice taunted in the back of her head.
Killian hadn’t just looked either. He had savored her, enjoyed her, covered every bare inch of skin in searing kisses.
“Ye shouldnae be here,” she said thickly.
He closed the door and stepped toward her. “Where else would I be tonight?” He paused. “Or have ye reinstated yer rules? It wasnae clear after the priest pronounced us husband and wife.”
There was a darkness in his voice that made her tingle, her skin flushing as if she had leaned too close to the fire. And he had that look in his eyes, that gleam of desire that had triggered the events of last night and ended with his tongue between her thighs.
She hurriedly turned her gaze away, so she wouldn’t be drawn in by the sight and memory of him.
“That kiss was just to make our marriage official.” She could hear the shift in her tone, the huskiness of longing. “Me rules havenae changed.”
“So, I should stay far away from ye?” he asked.
Nay. Come closer. I need ye closer.
“Aye, ye should,” she replied instead. “What news do ye have of Skye? Has Peter come back yet?”
She heard him approach, her heart rate quickening.
“I daenae want to talk about that right now,” he murmured. “I daenae want to speak of what’s out of me hands.”
Ailis focused fiercely on the fireplace, while her mind wandered down a wayward path, imagining what it would mean to be in his hands. She cursed Paisley for putting the notion of a wedding night in her head, and Killian for coming to her door when she had been certain he wouldn’t.
“I ken that I upset ye this mornin’,” he continued. “It wasnae me intention.”
She froze.
“I had so much to think about, and I couldnae allow meself to be distracted,” he said. “I had already been distracted, ye see. By ye. Still, I shouldnae have avoided ye.”
Ailis sniffed, straightening her back. “It doesnae matter. Ye allowed me a glimpse of what me life here will be like.”
“That’s true,” he relented, and her heart sank. “But I think ye’ve mistaken which part to expect.”
He stopped in front of her, gazing down at her with his hand extended in a gesture of peace. His eyes glittered with hot desire, a smirk curving his kissable lips.
“I daenae understand,” she breathed.
“Let me enlighten ye.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, his arm sliding around her waist.
His kiss was a fierce thing that seared through the doubt and lingering hurt, like the sun burning off a sea mist, allowing her to think clearly. About him, at least. About this moment, if nothing else.
She grasped the fabric of his shirt and kissed him harder, surprised that less than a day’s absence from his attention could have such an effect.
It was as if she had been starved of him for weeks, not hours.
The fact that she had thought she would never get to kiss him like this again made the reunion all the sweeter.
They kissed with ravenous abandon, hands exploring, breath sawing, bodies moving together.
The nerves that Killian had awakened last night roused from their dormancy, pulsing with anticipation, eager to feel that rush of exquisite, all-consuming pleasure again.
And more. After all, they were married now.
As Ailis kissed him deeply, moaning against his mouth as he kneaded the soft flesh of her backside, she tried to remember what her sister had told her about wedding nights. The acts between a husband and wife.
Then again, Kristen had never mentioned anything about the ecstasy that Ailis had experienced in the sea cave. So perhaps it would be better just to have it all unveiled in due course, learning as Killian taught her each lesson.
Just then, as if he could hear her thoughts, Killian stopped. His hands came up to cradle her face, his eyes dark with passion as he stared down at her.
“So, ye want me to touch ye now?” he asked wryly.
She let out a husky laugh. “I’d say that’s fairly obvious.”
“Ye’d think so, but nay.” Then, he leaned in, whispering in her ear, “Tell me how much ye want to be touched. Beg for it, wife of mine, until I can be in nay doubt.”
She blinked in bashful surprise.
“Daenae blush now,” he murmured with a sly grin. “Tell me.”
Steeling herself, unwilling to let this night pass without knowing him intimately, she took a deep breath.
“I daenae just want ye to touch me, husband. I want ye,” she said, her voice trembling with need.
“I want ye to make me feel everythin’. I want ye to touch me as ye did last night, and I want ye to touch me in every way that brings such bliss. I want ye to—”
He kissed her with renewed vigor, his mouth catching hers, his arms wrapping around her to pull her as close as flesh and fabric allowed.
Apparently, she had said more than enough to leave him in no doubt.
Ailis smiled against his mouth and kissed him back hungrily, their tongues dancing. Eager to discover what came next, what new worlds of pleasure would be revealed to her.
She had never expected to be anyone’s wife, her father forever insisting that she had no value, unlike Kristen. So, being someone’s wife—Killian’s wife—and feeling that he wanted her in return, was miraculous.
She had never felt beautiful or worthy of admiration and attention until him, which was perhaps why his dismissal had stung so much. Still, he wasn’t ignoring her now. Far from it.
With his impressively strong arms, Killian lifted her in one smooth motion… and threw her over his shoulder. An echo of their first meeting, but without the fear and uncertainty of that particular night. This was almost playful, bringing a laugh to her lips as she pretended to hit him in the back.
“Och, daenae provoke me, lass,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “For every punch ye deliver, I’ll have to make ye cry out me name.”
She grinned and lightly smacked him again.
“Ye asked for it,” he warned, carrying her over to the bed.
There, he hoisted her off his shoulder and threw her onto the stuffed mattress. She gasped as her back struck the soft surface, but he just stood there, so handsome that he looked like a dream, with the fire of desire burning hot in his wintry blue eyes.
He climbed up onto the bed and crawled toward her, putting his weight on his arms as he dipped his head to kiss her. Enveloping her with his heat and powerful presence, her fingertips tracing a pattern over the plane of his chest.
“I counted six punches,” he murmured, pulling back.
She was about to say that it hadn’t been that many when he sat back on his haunches and slid his hands down her thighs.
Her skirts gathered on his wrists, hitching up as his calloused palms skimmed her soft skin, the friction tingling all the way up into her chest. Her breath shallowed, coming in soft gasps.
With a dark smile, Killian lowered his head, his body stretching backward on the bed. One arm slid under her thigh and curved up, anchoring her as he tasted her for the first time. Since last night, at least.
“Oh! Oh, God!” she panted, that intimate touch like a honeyed dose of pure heaven.
Her back arched, and her hips bucked up to meet his tongue, her fingernails clawing at the coverlets as he teased her bundle of nerves.
Once more, she had given him control of her body, and she couldn’t have been gladder. He awakened things she had never known existed. He made her feel like a divine being. He made her feel beautiful, wanted, cherished. And that was worth everything.
His tongue circled her swollen bud, deliciously tormenting her with the promise of more, somehow managing to tiptoe on the very edge of searing pleasure.
“Killian!” she cried out, biting her lip. “Aye, Killian…”
Slowly, he swirled his tongue inward, giving her what she wanted. A firm stroke across that pulsing center of bliss, followed by a flurry of intense flicks that had her gasping and writhing on the coverlets.
That storm was beginning to build again, and she couldn’t wait for it to break.
“Oh, Killian,” she moaned, panting hard.
As if to reward her for calling out his name, he let his tongue glide through her slick folds and brushed his fingertips against the inside of her thighs.
Trembling, her head swimming with so many sensations at once, she almost exploded at the light touch of his fingertips to her entrance. She held her breath for a moment, time seeming to slow down.
Returning to lavishing his attention on her bud, he let the anticipation build. She expelled the shaky breath she had been holding, whimpering his name as pleasure thrummed along every nerve and limb, pouring power into the growing storm of her conclusion.
Then, with her mind distracted by the flick of his tongue, he slowly eased a finger inside her.
“Oh! Oh, Killian…” she gasped, her hands fisting in the coverlets as pressure grew inside her.
It was a taste of things to come, guiding her carefully into it instead of rushing the night.
As he curled his tongue around her bundle of nerves and sucked gently, he eased a second finger into her heat. She couldn’t breathe, in the best possible way, so overcome with new sensations that her whole body seemed to fizz and spark.
At first, he didn’t move his fingers, letting her get accustomed to the feeling. But as she began to want more, spurred on by the steady caresses of his tongue, she tilted her hips, her wet heat gliding over his fingers.
With that, he took over, slightly curling his fingers until they brushed a second source of untapped bliss.
He pulsed his fingers, each beat eliciting a fresh wave of pleasure that vibrated through her, like a messenger thundering along the roads of her entire being, waking every part of her up to the gift of euphoria.
It’s comin’. Oh, mercy, it’s comin’.
The delicious storm of last night had let her know what to expect, but the pleasure gathering inside her at that moment made it pale in comparison. This was something greater, something altogether more powerful, something that would truly shatter her in the best possible way.
When it came, she couldn’t even call out his name. She couldn’t muster a single word, as that violent bliss finally tore through her. It seized every muscle, her back bowing off the bed, her neck arcing back as her eyes squeezed shut.
Her nerves were ablaze, each one a lightning bolt splintering through her body, as pure ecstasy swept her into a whole new realm of euphoria.
“Oh, Killian…” she gasped, her legs trembling wildly, her body entirely at the mercy of that sweet, sweet bliss.
Gradually, the fierce sensations began to dim, that rushing wave retreating to form lapping wavelets of residual pleasure, the storm moving away so that she could breathe again.
She collapsed onto the bed, her hand flying to her racing heart, and smiled up at the canopy for a moment. If she had known it could get better than last night, she would never have left Killian’s side or told him to keep his distance.
“I think that was six,” he said, his lips grazing her inner thigh.
She laughed softly. “I lost count.”
A final gasp slipped past her lips as he slowly eased his fingers out of her and began to kiss his way up her body. As much as she loved the dress that Paisley had given her, she wished it were on the floor instead of creating a barrier between her skin and his mouth.
Kneeling once more, Killian took her hands and pulled her up into a sitting position. His head dipped to kiss her, his lips hot and urgent against hers, making that retreating storm pause for a second with the anticipation of a second tempest.
“Let’s get this off ye before I tear it off,” he murmured, his hands moving behind her to unfasten the ties.
He had just started to pull the laces loose, exposing her back to the slight chill in the air, when a loud knock sounded at the door.
Before they could reply, Peter ran in, his eyes widening as he saw Killian and Ailis on the bed.
Immediately, his hand flew up to cover his eyes, his breathing ragged as he choked out, “We couldnae get her, me Laird. We couldnae get either of them.” He wheezed.
“There were guards at every door on Her Ladyship’s map. We barely escaped alive.”
At that moment, another voice joined the chaos. Quieter. More solemn.
“And this just arrived,” Paisley said, stepping into the room. Her face was pale, tears brimming in her eyes. In her arms, she held a box. “The note says that it’s a weddin’ present. I looked, me Laird. I ken I shouldnae have done it, but… I looked.”
Her legs gave out, but Peter lunged to catch her before her knees hit the floor. As she fell, the lid of the ornate wooden box fell away, and the contents spilled out.
A severed finger with a golden signet ring almost made Ailis turn away, until her eyes landed on the second ‘gift’—a tuft of dark hair, tied with a green ribbon. A ribbon that she had embroidered herself with a small ‘S.’
For Skye.