Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
N iamh nearly jumped out of her nightdress when the door finally opened to reveal Alistair, a bucket in hand and a scowl on his face. She followed him as he shut the door behind him, then stalked across to enter the bedroom and set the bucket near the fire. “What is that?”
Alistair grunted as he twisted his wrist, which seemed to be stiff. “’Tis the blood we need.”
Niamh stared at it. “So much?”
“I thought it better tae have too much than too little.” In the light of the fire, Niamh could see the low flush on his cheeks. “I didnae have enough time tae do more than bleed the carcass and run, and I was near caught as it was.”
“But ye werenae.” Niamh moved close to him, close enough to feel the heat emanating from his lean frame.
A knock sounded on the door before Alistair could reply, and Niamh hurried to answer it and take the tray from the maid. The scents of rosemary, sage and chamomile filled her nostrils, and she breathed them in appreciatively before returning to where Alistair waited. “Now what dae we dae?”
Alistair frowned. “We’ve blood fer the sheets, and tea tae aid in sleepin’, so I suppose I’ll need tae find a place tae rest.”
Niamh gestured to the bed. “There’s a place right here. And…” She blushed. “’Tis yer bed anyway. I wouldnae tak’ it from ye.”
Alistair’s brow furrowed. “But ye didnae want tae sleep with me.”
“I dinnae wish fer…” She could feel the flush rising on her face, and hurried to speak. “I dinnae wish tae consummate the marriage, aye, but we’ve slept taegether afore. I ken ye’ll be a gentleman if we share a bed.”
Alistair stood quietly for a moment, and his voice was low with some emotion she couldn’t quite name when he spoke. “Ye’d trust me so much?”
“Aye.” Niamh swallowed. “I’ll nae deny I still... I still dinnae trust ye fully, but in this at least, ye’ve shown yerself fair considerate. It feels like I’m doin’ ye a disservice tae doubt yer intentions on that score. Besides… we’re married now, and...”
She took a deep breath and stepped closer to him once more, then laid a hand on his arm. “I dinnae want tae be alone.”
Alistair’s expression visibly softened. “Then I’ll nae leave ye.”
He turned to look at the bucket. “Unless ye object, I think it best tae leave the bucket as it is. So long as ‘tis nae fully congealed in the morn, ‘twill serve its purpose. In the meantime, I dinnae fancy sleepin’ on bloody sheets if I dinnae have tae.”
Niamh exhaled in relief. “I was thinkin’ the same. But...will it be dry in time for yer council meeting, if we wait till morning?”
“Fer a small amount aye, if we give it a candle-mark or so.” He moved the bucket a little closer to the fire, then put a cover over it to disguise the purpose of it. That done, he began to undress.
Niamh gasped, then turned away, her cheeks burning. Married they might be, but she wasn’t ready to see her new husband in that state. She was glad that she’d changed into her night clothes earlier. She’d done it to make her request seem more believable, but now all she could think of was how embarrassed she would be, if Alistair saw her unclothed.
Behind her, Alistair chuckled. “Ye dinnae need tae be so modest, wife, nor fret that I’ll show ye more than ye’re ready fer.”
Intrigued, Niamh peeked over her shoulder. What she saw made her mouth dry and her heart skip a beat, heat pooling in her gut and sparking along her skin as she gazed at her husband.
Alistair remained in his kilt, but he’d removed everything else, and the firelight showed him clearly. Tall, lean, with muscular arms and a well-defined abdomen. His limbs were strong and steady, well-matched to the rest of him, and marked with surprisingly few scars, for a warrior.
He raised a dark eyebrow, and she read amusement in his green eyes. “Like what ye see?”
“I suppose I’ve seen worse.” Niamh turned away, her cheeks hot enough to rival the fire as she strode toward the bed and slid under the covers, facing away from him.
She heard him laugh, then the soft, near soundless slide of footsteps across the floor. Moments later, the bed dipped under his weight, and she felt the coverlet move as he slipped into place beside her. She felt his warmth at her back, and resolutely kept her face turned away.
They lay in silence as the fire slowly died down to embers, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Then, out of the darkness, Alistair spoke. “I ken ye’re nae happy with the situation. And mayhap ye dinnae trust me, with the way we met. But…”
His voice was slow and hesitant, and Niamh finally surrendered to her curiosity enough to roll over to look at him. “Aye?”
“Ye can trust me nae tae tak’ advantage o’ ye. If ye’re in need o’ comfort, or aught else, ye can trust me tae dae the best I can fer ye.”
Niamh recalled the way he’d held her, their last night in an inn. After a moment of hesitation, she slid closer to him, close enough to lay her head on his shoulder. His warmth surrounded her, even as his arm, which had been outstretched in her direction, wrapped around her waist in a loose embrace.
His presence was comforting, making her relax even more after the tea she’d drunk a few minutes prior. And yet, despite that, her mind refused to quiet enough to slip into sleep.
She was far too aware that she was lying next to a solid, male, and mostly unclothed body, and the awareness made her skin tingle and her body feel hot, as if she was blushing from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet. She wanted... something. Something more.
She tried to count sheep, and think of lullabies, but nothing helped. Finally, she gave up. “Alistair?”
“Aye?” The swiftness of his reply suggested he had been struggling with sleep as much as she had.
“I cannae sleep.” She felt childish, saying such things as if she were a wee lass begging for some warmed milk or a drink of water. “I dinnae ken why.”
“A difficult day can dae that. The mind willnae quiet, even when the body is wearied.” He sounded as if he had far too much experience with such things.
Niamh bit her lip. In other circumstances, she would have gone to the healer for a tisane. But this was supposed to be her wedding night, and she’d already asked for a soothing tea. Rumors would surely start if she sent for a sleeping potion as well. “Is there... dae ye ken anything that might help? Other than tea, or a potion.”
Alistair rolled onto his side to face her. “I ken a few things, but I dinnae ken if ye want me tae try them.”
“Ye mean…” She flushed. “Ye said we wouldnae…”
“Nae that. But there’s other ways, and other things I can show ye. Yer virtue would remain intact, but ye would get some sense o’ the way things are meant tae be between a married man and woman.” Alistair’s voice was low and coaxing, and Niamh found herself intrigued in spite of her trepidation.
She recalled Catriona telling her there were many ways for men and women to share pleasure. She also recalled the healer’s words that a good husband would see to her comfort and her enjoyment as much as he did his own. What Alistair offered her might be a good way to see what kind of husband he would truly be.
And, Niamh had to admit, she was curious. She had spent so much time fearing marriage and the marriage bed. She wanted to know more, in the hope that perhaps a greater understanding of marriage could ease her nightmares, as Alistair’s presence had done on so many occasions.
She reached out to him. “Aye.”
“Aye?” Alistair blinked. He clearly hadn’t expected her to agree.
Niamh took a deep breath. “I dinnae… I cannae…” She stopped, then reached over and took his hand. “I ken what I’m afeared o’ happening. Show me the things I’ve never imagined, the things that make women willing tae face the dangers that come with loving a man.”
Alistair’s fingers twined with hers, then he moved, leaning over her to cup her face with his other hand. His voice was low and husky when he answered. “Aye. I can dae that.”
His mouth fastened over hers, firm but gentle. She felt the touch of his tongue against the seam of her lips and hesitantly parted them, gasping as his tongue twined with hers and danced across the roof of her mouth, caressing and teasing.
Alistair kissed her almost senseless, his hand on her face as he broke the kiss to whisper lovingly in her ear. “Just relax, lass. And tell me if I dae aught ye dinnae like.”
With that, he kissed her again, but this time on the point of her jaw. Niamh inhaled sharply as his teeth nipped gently at the lobe of her ear. The sensation was sharp, but oddly pleasant, and made her skin tingle in a way that made her long for more.
Another kiss, this time to the pulse point in her throat, then another at her collarbone, this one accompanied by the bite of teeth and a soft sucking that made her shiver. It stung, but at the same time, she could feel sparks dancing under her skin, and heat pooling low in her stomach.
Alistair’s hand moved, gliding across her shoulder, down her arm, then back up in a caress, before stroking slowly across her chest to the laces that adorned the bodice of her night dress. Niamh shivered again as his palm ghosted across her breast, then slowly undid the laces and pushed the fabric aside to leave her bosom bare.
Cool air kissed her skin, then Alistair’s hand palmed her right breast, callused fingers gently kneading and teasing until her nipple was a hardened peak. Every touch sent a sensation like sparks through her, straight to her core, and Niamh found herself squirming slightly.
“Dae ye want me tae stop?”
“Nay.” She wasn’t sure what she felt, but she didn’t want him to stop.
Alistair bent to kiss her again, his weight shifting to blanket her further as his other hand caressed her left breast in turn. Niamh felt her breath catch in her throat as his hand drifted lower, stroking down the flat plane of her belly. His fingers found sensitive places she’d never known she had, making her muscles quiver under his hand.
Then his mouth fastened over her breast, suckling and teasing, and Niamh forgot everything else as a bolt of lightning seemed to shoot from her breast to her very core. Her back arched, a soft cry escaping her throat at the almost overwhelming onslaught of sensation.
Alistair made a pleased sound, a low, wordless noise that sent tremors through her. His attention shifted to her other breast, sending another bolt of heat through her. His hand left her belly and began to tug the skirt of her nightdress up her legs, until he could slide his hand under the fabric to caress her thighs.
“Will ye part yer legs fer me?” The question was low. Alistair’s voice, like smoke and velvet against her ears, sent another wave of heat through her. Her whole body shivered as his fingers stroked the line between her thighs, coaxing her agreement.
As if in a dream, Niamh hesitantly spread her legs. Alistair’s hand slid up to brush the damp curls of her sex, and he groaned. “Och, ye could drive a man mad.”
Niamh would have retorted, but his hand, stroking through the fine hair that covered the mound of her sex, stole her words. All she could feel was the gentle roughness of his fingers, the coil of slow moving heat within her as his hand caressed her most secret place.
It slid between her legs to cup her, his palm applying a light pressure to the outer lips of her sex, and Niamh’s back arched, her legs parting further without thought as she pressed into it.
His fingers slid slowly over her, as if memorizing every inch, and Niamh found herself whimpering, wanting more. “Alistair…”
“Patience, lass.” He laughed, the low sound sending shivers through her skin. He caressed her again, one finger on either side of her sex, and one finger tracing the seam, from her soft mound to her buttocks.
Slowly, gently, his finger slid inside her, pressing between the lips of her sex to caress her inner walls. Niamh gasped at the sensation, squirming against his hand as he pressed deeper inside, through the folds of her sex until he could brush his finger into her innermost channel and caress her core.
Alistair held still for a moment, then began to rock his hand back and forth with slow movements, his finger gliding in and out of her. Every motion sent another wave of heat and pleasure through her, adding to the building tension deep inside.
Alistair guided another finger inside her, stretching her, filling her channel with heat and pressure like she’d never known. His thumb slid between the outer folds and stroked over a small, sensitive nub of flesh. Niamh cried out, back arching as a bolt of pure pleasure traveled from his thumb up her spine. “Alistair!”
His thumb continued to caress her pleasure center, until Niamh felt she would go mad from the stimulus. She felt as if she was catching fire, the heat and pressure threatening to burn her up and carry her away. She whimpered in surprise as Alistair pulled his hand away. “What…?”
“Dinnae fret. I’ll nae leave ye wanting, but I want tae taste ye.”
She didn’t have time to ask what he meant before Alistair slid down the bed, put his head between her thighs, and slid his tongue across her sex.
Niamh shrieked in surprise. Alistair’s hands on her hips were the only thing, she thought, that kept her from leaping clear off the bed. Alistair laughed again, and the sound vibrated through her, before he licked her more.
Niamh lost track of everything – everything save the feel of Alistair’s mouth on her, and the pleasure that came with every stroke of his tongue. No two touches were the same, and she thought the ever-changing sensations would drive her mad.
Alistair’s tongue plunged deep, as if he wanted to taste her innermost core, then flicked lightly across the inner walls of the lips of her sex. Then he suckled lightly, as he had her breast, before plunging deep once more. Every stroke sent sparks along her nerves, and the heat and pressure that had diminished when he removed his hand began to build again.
The pleasure built, carrying her higher, filling her until she was sure she would fly away on a cloud of sparks and fire. She could hear herself whimpering, gasping Alistair’s name, begging for more, but had no attention, no energy to feel embarrassed or uncertain. All she knew was heat and pleasure and need.
Alistair’s tongue took her higher, higher, driving her mindless with pleasure she’d never guessed could exist. Then his tongue flicked up and curled around her pleasure center. He sucked, flicking his tongue again, and the world came apart in a wave of heat and light.
She was vaguely aware of her body arching, a shriek bursting from her throat as the fire burst through her entire body in a wave of pleasure that was beyond words. The wave of her release took her, carried her away helplessly, with Alistair’s arms around her as her only anchor.
There was no telling how long the wave of pleasure held her, only that it left her limp and boneless, her body filled with a sort of warm, glowing lassitude that made her feel as it she was swimming in honey.
“Sleep lass.” Alistair’s low, smoke-velvet voice washed over her, and Niamh followed it into sleep.