Chapter Seven #3
She looked so...frustrated that it eased something in him. Helping her was something he could do. Something simple. ‘Let me.’
When he drew near so they almost touched, she turned her head. It made the closeness a bit easier. A bit, but not much. Like this he could see how many colours of red her hair contained, he could smell the lavender and evergreen that was brushed in her gown.
She exhaled. ‘This is a very strange evening.’
The laces weren’t so tangled and since they were made of silk, they unwound with a few simple tugs. ‘Most husbands and wives undress in their chambers.’
‘Most husbands and wives do not negotiate for each item of clothing. We didn’t have this much negotiation when we agreed to marry.’
‘True,’ he answered because it was the truth and saying anything else would bring light to the lies he already had to protect.
Saying vows was no negotiation, but a swift sword of duty to the only son of a Highland chief.
He had no power to avoid it. Everything else, however, he’d negotiate to ensure he kept the little power he had left.
For no matter what, he would resolve the wrong that was done here and he wouldn’t make any more mistakes.
To do that, he had to leave his breeches on, but with a few more tugs the ribbon pulled free and something within him did as well when Ailsa stepped away and flung the surcoat to the ground.
It was his control slipping as he realised he would touch, he would taste this woman with her green eyes and red hair that beckoned him. He’d feel what it was like to press against her, hold her and discover what it was about her that compelled him to her.
With a huff to her breath she straightened her shoulders which pressed her breasts against her chemise and he was glad for the ribbon still in his hand so he could hold on to something. He would find this more between them. The only question was whether he would also find his resolve.
Rory held so still, he could be carved marble. Ailsa didn’t know why he’d grown quiet or didn’t take off the rest of his clothing...or hers.
She didn’t know much, but this couldn’t be normal on their wedding night.
If they were in love, kisses would be done and there would be passion.
She had heard of both in abundance from scullery maids to cordwainer’s mothers.
She didn’t expect that between Rory and her, yet even in an arranged marriage shouldn’t there have been pleasantries? Some wooing?
The act of lovemaking was intimate and, though she had bared more before him than any man, he still felt like a stranger to her. Would they touch, would he take her maidenhead and she know no more of him than this?
She tilted her head to him and noticed the changes as they stared. No man had stood this close before so that she could see in minute detail the colouring of his skin in contrast to the dark discs of his nipples.
She felt the warmth of him as well and the slight rasp of his breath. This close she could also catch the hint of leather, of steel and something of the man. Something that reminded her of the cliffs heated by the sun.
She was reminded of those cliff’s in his eyes as well. Dangerous with a forged strength to withstand the elements. That awareness pounded in her heart and rushed from her head to her toes and back again. Licking her lips at the dryness suddenly there, she asked, ‘Aren’t we to lie on the bed?’
He moved so slowly she could watch the ascent of his left hand, the one that held the ribbon, before he brushed his fingers against her jaw and just behind her ear. ‘Perhaps I should kiss you first.’
A soft tilt of her chin raised her gaze. She kept her eyes open to see the descent of his head towards hers and saw the quirk to his brow as his eyes kept to hers.
‘Are you watching us kiss?’ he asked. ‘You are bold, are you not?’
Boldness, no. Curious, yes. Unsteady, most definitely, and she placed her hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm, almost hot beneath her. It surprised her, but not as much as him if the widening of his eyes was any indication.
‘Very bold,’ he murmured against her lips. Now he would kiss her as expected and the strangeness of this day would be like it should.
Instead, he tilted his head and kissed just to the side of her lips. Then up along her jaw with a delicate, deliberate precision she was helpless not to be affected by. To give him access, she arched her neck, placing her hand on his other shoulder.
A growl of approval as Rory shifted closer to her, his right hand supporting her lower back, shifting her weight to support her against him. As he kissed along her neck, his left hand caressed and she felt the ribbon he held brush against her shoulders before he pulled back.
A soft chuckle. ‘Still watching?’
She couldn’t seem not to. This man, this stranger who was touching her as no other had before, as she experienced shivers and heat along her skin as she never had before.
‘See this, then.’ Stepping back, he gathered her chemise and tore it up and off her body.
‘Ailsa,’ he said as he tossed the garment even as he kept the ribbon. She stood naked and vulnerable. Feeling the air and this man before her, she was aware of the prickling of her skin and the tightening of her nipples.
His eyes darkened to impossible depths as did the flush along his chest and cheeks. Then he closed his eyes and eased his breath through parted lips.
Was this how it was? How could she know this was how it should be between a man or a woman?
As a healer, she seen many women naked and tended to some males as well.
There’d always been chaperons and the older healer usually tended the males until her death.
However, in a marriage situation, she didn’t know what she was to do.
Should she have taken off his clothes and closed her eyes as well? ‘What is it?’ she whispered.
He opened heavy-lidded and unfocused eyes.
‘I don’t know...’ she started to say. ‘Is there anything...?’
His eyes cleared and he gave a rueful shake to his head. ‘You’re untouched, Ailsa. Am I frightening you?’
‘A bit.’
He clenched the ribbon. ‘Sorry, lass, do not worry. You’re beautiful.’
‘You’ve told me before.’
‘I did?’
‘When we stood before the priest.’
He frowned. Did he not want to say such sentiments to her? Maybe not and for some reason that hurt. She’d liked that he said such a compliment in front of their clans. But he didn’t. Suddenly she wished she denied him taking her chemise off.
A rough exhalation and he cupped her jaw. ‘You are more than beautiful, Ailsa,’ he said. ‘So beautiful I could barely keep my eyes from you when I entered that courtyard though your father faced me and arrows were pointed at my back.’
‘You saw me, then?’
He caught a tendril of hair and let it flow through his hand. ‘This hair.’
‘Everyone sees my hair.’
‘I shouldn’t have been noticing you at all when faced with enemies. Yet I can’t help noticing you like this, the bounty of those breasts, the flare of your hips...’
His words weren’t praise, but the tone of his voice made her flush as if she was truly beautiful. ‘I don’t understand. Haven’t you seen a woman’s form before?’
‘Are you asking if I’ve had lovers?’ At her quick nod, he continued, ‘Yes, but I can’t remember any of them.’
‘We all have breasts and hips.’
He leaned forward and for some reason she stepped back, then again each time he moved forward until her legs were pressed to the bed.
When she didn’t move, he gathered her in his arms to lay her down.
She moved over to give him room, but he didn’t take it.
Instead, he stood over her with that same heat intensifying between them as she admired his wide shoulders, the ripples of his stomach muscles, the dark trail of hair that arrowed into his breeches.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he repeated. ‘Stunning. And I wasn’t expecting this much...’ He looked away, his left hand caressing the ribbon still in his hand. ‘I guess it’s safe to say that everything about this is unexpected.’
She felt her own lips curve. ‘True.’ But she welcomed it. This wasn’t the man who told her to strip when they entered the room. This was Rory, whom she had glimpses of. Like now. Talking to her, easing her concerns.
Turning them into something more. This evening seemed full of surprises, from the emotions of her wedding vows, to the heated exchange to just...this heat between them.
She’d seen men’s bodies before as she tended wounds and illnesses, but this was different. This was her husband and she wanted him undressed to fully see him, to touch him not as a healer, but as a woman. ‘You’re still clothed.’
He frowned, swallowed. A flicker of something went through his eyes that sent a fissure of warning through her overly warm thoughts, but it was gone before she could grasp what it was.
‘Yes, I am,’ he said, placing one knee on the bed. ‘And you still are talking.’
‘Bluntly?’ she gasped, as he lowered his head and hovered his lips along her collarbone.
‘Talking at all,’ he whispered against her skin.
She expected him to kiss her. To make the contact he seemed at first to want when he leaned over her. Instead, he pulled away and carefully knelt between her legs. He didn’t even ask for her to spread her legs for him. She simply did, as if she knew what this part of a marriage bed was about.
And she thought she did, but she didn’t understand at all when the cool slide of the silk ribbon fluttered along her collarbone sending warm chills to every bit of her.
‘What are you doing?’
A curve to his lips. ‘I’m touching you, Ailsa.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘You don’t feel it? I thought you’d like the feel of the ribbon along your shoulders.’
He dangled the ribbon down one arm and up and down the other. Every time it reached her hand, she felt like curling her fingers around it to see if it truly felt as warm and soft as it did when he wielded it.
It was maddening, especially when he dragged the ribbon down between the valley of her breasts to pool around her navel and then back up again. It affected her.