Chapter Eighteen
Eileen placed her hand in the middle of her husband’s broad chest, and had to force herself to concentrate on the matter that was still unresolved.
She could not give in the heady feeling of being held in his arms, nor be tempted any further by his sumptuous kisses until she’d received his assurance concerning her father.
“What is it, lass?”
“I’m worried about my da. When my mum passed away, he was lost at first. If not for his men, I’m not certain what would have happened to him.”
“And ye, Eileen? What about ye?”
“I missed my mum desperately. The both of us always worried about Da being out in the middle of the night with his men. But otherwise we would not have had enough to eat, or coin for herbs to cure Mum.”
The expression in Flaherty’s eyes softened. “So ye took over for yer ma, taking care of yer da.”
She swallowed against the tightness in her throat, the grief that unexpectedly rose to the surface at odd times.
“I did. I may have spoiled him a bit more than Mum would have. I have always had a way with horses. When I was old enough, he allowed me to tag along on their excursions because I could keep the horses quiet, and handled the reins well enough to drive the wagon.”
The softness in the depths of his blue eyes hardened. “Do ye mean to tell me that yer da encouraged ye to accompany him? How old were ye?”
She harrumphed. “Old enough.”
“That’s not an answer, lass.”
She felt her temper ignite. “That’s the only answer you’ll be getting from me!”
A hint of surprise swiftly changed to one of amusement. His chuckle irritated her, but she waited to see what he would say next. Not that she would admit to him that she enjoyed their heated banter.
Flaherty didn’t keep her waiting long. “Well now, both me da and ma would agree wholeheartedly that ye’re just the woman to handle the job.”
“Job?”
“Aye, of keeping meself—yer husband—in line. ’Tisn’t an easy task, and me ma often warned that no woman would ever have me if I didn’t change me ways.”
Eileen remembered what his brothers had said about his charm and women…and something else, but she had only paid attention to the charming the lasses part. “And have you changed?”
He cupped her face in his callused hands and slowly brought his lips toward hers. She closed her eyes, anticipating the warmth of his lips on hers, but it never came. She opened her eyes and saw the raw desire and need in the depths of his. “Did you change your mind?”
“About?”
Was he toying with her? Trying to make her beg him for a kiss?
She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but his whispered plea stopped her. “Keep yer eyes open, lass. I need to see if I’m doing this right.”
“Right?”
“Aye. I’m watching for the flicker of desire in yer eyes to flare into flames.”
“Flames?” Good Lord, please help me form more than one-word sentences. Then all thought ceased as Flaherty’s eyes darkened to the color of midnight and his mouth pressed against hers with the surety of a man who knew how to lay a fire, ignite it, and stoke the flicker until it burned!
Eileen lost the ability to see and hear, but she could feel. Her body felt as if a storm-tossed sea were roaring through her body. Her blood raced through her veins until her head swam and her breath snagged in her breast.
Flaherty ended the kiss and stared into her eyes. “Ye’ll either be the death of me, lass, or me salvation.”
Dizzy from his plundering kisses, too warm from her body’s reaction to him, she couldn’t get her mouth and brain to work concurrently enough to speak at first. She gave in to what her heart wanted, tightened her arms around his neck, and squirmed in his lap.
He groaned, and she stilled. Her brain and mouth were working again, and she asked, “Is that what I think it is?”
Flaherty let out a choked laugh. “Depends on what ye think it is.”
She eased back to watch his expression when she told him, “My mum may not have been around to tell me about what happens in the marriage bed, but Mrs. Doyle told me when she told her daughters.”
“Ah, so I don’t have to start from scratch, assuming ye don’t know what awaits us after I undress ye?”
“You do not.” She pressed her lips to his, bit his bottom lip, and smiled.
“I’ll be undressing you first!” Flaherty’s joyful laughter filled her heart with warmth.
At ease with him, she confessed, “There is a tiny part, and I’m not certain how it will be possible…
but if you’ll remember, I told you that I learn things quickly. ”
Flaherty rose from the bed and let her slide down the length of his hard body until she stood in front of him.
He slid his hands down the length of her spine, leaving a trail of heat, to the base of it.
“Tell me about the tiny bit ye don’t understand, and I’ll be happy to explain it to ye.
” He splayed his large hands over her bottom and pressed her against the hard ridge pulsing against her belly.
She was trying not to be embarrassed by her body’s reaction to the way he held her, the way he kissed her. His statement had her realizing that the only person who should be answering her questions was the auburn-haired giant of a man she’d married.
She rasped, “I’m not sure how you’ll fit…especially given your…um…impressive size.” Instead of laughing at her, Flaherty slid his hands up her spine and then down again. The motion soothed the edge off her worry. “What if we’re not like the pieces of the puzzle Mrs. Doyle told us about?”
“Let me worry about adjusting things until we fit.”
He sounded so certain that he would be able to do so that she decided to trust him. After all…he’d charmed dozens of women.
She stiffened at the thought, and he pulled back, staring at her. “Don’t ye trust me? Ye should. I’m yer husband, and ’tis me duty to honor ye, protect ye, give ye babes to love…but, most of all, to love ye. I do, mo chroí, because ye’re mo ghrá.”
“I do trust you, Fenton. It’s all those other women you’ve charmed—”
“’Twas practice, lass.”
He hadn’t just said that, had he? “Practice?”
“Aye, so that I’d be able to show ye how much I love ye. From the soles of yer feet to the top of her head, and all the curves, nooks, and crannies between them.”
She frowned at him. “Do you actually expect me to believe that?”
He placed his hands firmly on her backside and lifted her. “Put yer legs around me waist, lass.”
Tantalized by his superior strength, and the way he held her suspended, she did as he asked. He held her firmly with his hands and pressed his hardness against the very heart of her. A rush of sensations bombarded her as he pressed harder. A moan erupted from between her lips—she couldn’t stop it.
“Aye, lass. Trust me. From this day forward, I’ll spend the rest of me days loving ye, making love to ye…and making babes. Sons with auburn hair and daughters with ink-black hair.”
She was hypnotized from the way he moved against her, as if he knew he was arousing her.
And that was when she gave the words back to him, breathlessly.
“I trust you, Fenton. From this day forward, I’ll spend the rest of my days loving you, making love to you.
And yes please to babes, but what if it’s our sons with black hair and daughters with auburn? ”
“We’d best not worry about that now.” He kissed her deeply. “Ye’re a bit overdressed for yer first lesson in lovemaking, lass.”
She swore she could feel her heart smiling at his words. “I’m going to undress you first,” she told him again.
He grinned. “Well now, I can be accommodating, lass. Do ye want to start with me trousers or me frockcoat?”
They were laughing as she fumbled with the placket on his trousers, and when he tore off two of his coat’s buttons.
“Hurry!” she urged him. By the time they’d haphazardly undressed one another, her heart was pounding and her head felt light. “What’s next?”
His devilish grin went straight to her heart, as he undid her braid and set her curls free.
He made a low humming sound watching it tumble over her shoulders to her waist. “I get to explore every inch of yer creamy skin, lass, as I send ye to the stars while readying ye to accept the length and breadth of me.”
She managed one word: “Oh.”
The play of muscles beneath his skin tantalized her, but it was the glimpse of his manliness that had her staring.
The heat radiating off him beckoned her closer.
Instead of wrapping his arm around her waist, he swept her into his arms and onto the bed.
Flaherty gently laid her in the middle and climbed onto the bed, placing one knee on either side of her.
“We have all night, lass. I’ll be going as slowly as I can.
Ye tell me if something doesn’t feel right.
If ye say stop, I’ll stop. I’m not after causing ye pain.
” He paused to brush a lock of hair from her cheek.
“Did Mrs. Doyle explain that the first time—”
Eileen raised her hand to the injured side of his face and gently cupped it. “I know there will be pain. It will be fleeting, as long as I do not tense up, and…”
“And?”
“You never stop kissing me.”
He groaned. “That’s the plan, lass.” He covered her body with his. His scent, sandalwood and the outdoors, combined with the heat of his body, intoxicated her. When he braced himself on his elbows, she saw him flinch for a fraction of a second.
“You’re in pain.”
“’Tis nothing, lass. I’ve been in pain more than once over the years, especially since signing on to work for His Grace.”
“It’s your shoulder,” she murmured.
Instead of answering, he bent his head to capture her mouth in a lingering kiss that distracted her, seduced her into forgetting everything but the firmness of his lips pressed to hers. His shaft pulsed against her belly, and she gasped.
“Don’t be afraid of me, lass, in bed or out of it.” She wriggled beneath him. He swiftly moved to adjust their position until he had nudged her legs apart and settled between them. “Open yer legs…just a wee bit more for me.” When she complied, he sighed. “Ye’re so hot and wet for me.”
Vaguely, she remembered her friends’ mother mentioning that moisture and temperature would help ease the way, lessen the pain. “I’m ready, Fenton.”
He snorted. “Not yet, lass—but ye will be.”