Chapter 13
Oscar dropped his hand.
It hung at his side while the music below beat faintly through the floorboards. His shoulders remained rigid beneath his coat, and his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. His gaze moved from her face to the laces she had touched while waiting, and one scarred hand opened and closed.
He had commanded her upstairs. And now that he was here, with no one watching, he held himself several paces away.
“If ye want me gone, say it.”
Ceana blinked. “Ye ordered me to wait for ye.”
“That was downstairs. Ye have the freedom to choose again.”
She crossed to him and laid her palm over his heartbeat. “Stay.”
His fingers closed around her wrist. “If ye want me to stop, tell me.”
“I will. And ye will listen.”
“Aye.”
She searched his face. “Do ye always break yer promises so quickly?”
“Ye are the one who tested me.”
“A laird ought to survive one question.”
“It wasnae the question.”
“Then what was it?”
His gaze traveled over her slowly before returning to her face. “It was the invitation.”
Heat spread across her cheeks, though she kept her hand against his chest. “Then I meant it.”
A cheer rose from the hall.
Oscar released her and crossed to the window. He drew the inner shutters closed, dulling the music to a pulse beneath the floor. The celebration continued beneath them in muffled fragments. He then went to the chest, unbuckled his sword belt, and laid the weapon across the lid.
Each slow step gave her time to refuse the next. When he stopped before her at last, he reached around her and waited.
“Aye,” she whispered, then turned.
He undid the laces. Each pull released another eyelet, and the gown grew loose around her ribs while his knuckles brushed her through the linen of her dress. With each released eyelet, more of the gown’s weight settled into his hands.
Ceana held her breath until it hurt, then let it out slowly. Halfway down her back, she caught his wrist and turned around. “I want to see ye.”
He reached around her again and undid the remaining laces while she watched his face. She eased one sleeve from her shoulder, and he guided the other down her arm. The heavy wool slipped to her waist before he lowered it to the floor.
Oscar carried the gown to the chair. Paisley’s embroidered ribbon slid from the folds, its end falling toward the floorboards. He caught it and placed it on top, smoothing the silver stitching with his thumb.
Ceana swallowed thickly and went to him.
Her first attempt at unfastening his coat failed.
Oscar covered her hand with his, guided the hook free, then let her continue.
His coat opened beneath her hands. She pushed it off his shoulders and loosened the ties of his shirt, grazing warm skin with her knuckles.
He watched until she lifted the linen over his head.
Scars marred his body. Lots and lots of them.
“Oh,” she gasped.
A pale line marked one shoulder. At his ribs, a thick scar pulled the skin when he breathed. Ceana pressed both palms against his chest. The beat under her right hand was faster than the one she had felt through his coat.
She brushed her fingertips over the scar on his ribs. “This one?”
“A blade.”
She traced the raised edge, and his body tightened beneath her touch. He caught her hand and pressed her palm flat over the scar.
She rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him.
Oscar went still beneath the first brush of her lips. His hand rose to her waist when she kissed him again, firmer this time. He gave her a breath to retreat, but she curled her fingers around his neck and opened her mouth beneath his.
He drew her against his chest, deepening the kiss with the care he had used on her laces, though his restraint had begun to fray. Ceana kissed him harder, coaxing a rough sound from his throat. When his mouth moved away, she followed it.
Oscar looked down at her, his breathing ragged. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and pulled him back by the nape of his neck. His hand curled around her waist as he kissed her again, nudging her one step back. He followed until her knees met the mattress and she was forced to sit down.
He stood between her knees, his lips swollen from their kiss, and reached for the tie at the neck of her shift. But then he paused.
“Take it off,” she demanded.
Together they lifted the linen over her head. Cool air kissed her heated skin. Her hands rose on instinct before she lowered them to the blanket and allowed him to look his fill.
His gaze shifted to the faint mark above her breast. “Did the dress hurt ye?”
“Nay.”
His thumb passed over the mark. “Tell me if I do.”
He kissed it, his mouth following the curve toward her breast, and her fingers curled into the blanket. When his lips closed around her nipple, her breath stuttered. He watched her face as he sucked on her until she moaned. He then released her nipple and trailed kisses to her throat.
Ceana ran her hands over the firm muscles of his shoulders and the scars across his back. Every time her fingers found one, he drew a sharp breath.
He gently laid her on the bed and followed, bracing his weight above her. He trailed kisses over her stomach, down to the inside of her knee, then slowly up her thigh. The first brush of his fingers against her sex startled a yelp from her.
He stopped. “Look at me.”
She raised her head. His hand remained still against her thigh.
“Do ye want me to touch ye?”
“Aye.”
His mouth curved faintly. “Good.”
His fingers moved again and found the swollen spot right above her heat. It made her hips buck. The sensation was too sharp at first, then softened when he eased the pressure.
“There?” he asked.
“Aye. Again.”
He obeyed.
Her thighs trembled with each patient stroke of his fingers. When she arched into him, he kissed the inside of her knee and moved higher, giving her time to get used to the sensation. The feeling briefly startled her before she settled into it again.
“May I?”
She opened her legs further. “Aye.”
His mouth found her right as her heel dragged across the blanket, and her hand curled into his hair. He slowed his ministrations when she tensed, then followed the rocking of her hips when she stopped trying to hold them still.
“Oscar.” He lifted his head and met her gaze. “Daenae stop.”
He dove back between her legs.
Each breath broke past her lips as the pressure in her core grew. She moved with him, learning which small tilt made her pleasure climb fastest. Her inner walls clenched around him, and she cried out his name as climax crashed over her.
As the aftershocks receded, she lay breathing hard while his palm stroked up and down her leg.
As soon as she could lift her arm, she reached for him. He came over her, and she slid her hand down his body. His eyes closed for one breath as he guided her hand to the bulge in his breeches. Her fingers curled around him, and his jaw clenched, his hips bucking into her palm.
“Again?” she asked.
He caught her wrist and kissed it; his rough breath was answer enough.
After a while, he removed the last layer between them and settled between her thighs.
His gaze moved down her body and settled on her lower belly. Then his weight shifted away, and his hand left her hip. He sat back on the edge of the bed, his jaw tight. Without his warmth near, she felt more of the cool air.
He had seen all of her and still changed his mind.
“What is wrong?”
Oscar turned his face away and curled one hand against his thigh. “I cannae risk puttin’ a bairn inside ye.”
Ceana pushed herself upright and reached for his arm. “There is nay bairn to risk.”
His head snapped toward her. “Ye cannae promise me that.”
“I can. There is somethin’ I should tell ye.”
Oscar narrowed his eyes, and she tightened her grip on him.
“I cannae bear children.”
Oscar’s hand stopped above the breeches he had discarded beside the bed. For one breath, he remained as still as anything, every muscle tense. Then he straightened and turned.
Ceana could read nothing on his face. His gaze held hers until she reached for the blanket and drew it over her breasts. The cover offered little comfort. He had already seen and touched every part of her.
“Who told ye that?”
“Nay one had to tell me.”
His brow furrowed. “Then how do ye ken?”
Ceana’s hands tightened on the blanket. “Daphne was born first. I came after her, so I am counted the second daughter.” She watched his face and found no help there.
“Every second daughter born to second daughters in me maither’s line has failed to bear children.
Everyone kens it. I heard it spoken as fact before I was old enough to understand why it mattered. ”
Oscar drew nearer. “And ye have proof other than the tale?”
Her throat tightened. “Me courses arenae regular. Sometimes they are late by weeks. Sometimes longer. It began the same way for the others, or so me maither said.”
She had put together the pieces years ago. Speaking them before a naked man who had just drawn away from her made the conclusion plain again for some odd reason.
“That is why nay man wanted me.”
Oscar stared at her. A muscle ticked in his jaw before he spoke again. “Ridiculous. Any man with eyes would want ye.”
“Every man with eyes kens the second daughter of a second daughter in me maither’s line cannae bear children.”
He crossed the remaining distance between them and stopped beside the bed. “I took Ceana Tulloch as me wife, nae the promise of bairns.” His fingers closed around the carved bedpost. “Ye deserve to be wanted because ye are ye, wife.”
Her eyes stung. She blinked until the candle flames stood clear again.
Oscar looked down at the blanket gathered in her hands. “The moment I saw ye, I wanted to worship ye.”
Ceana let the blanket fall to her waist and rose onto her knees. She caught his hand and pressed it over her breast. “Then show me.”
His thumb moved once across her skin before he pulled his hand away. “Do ye truly believe ye cannae conceive?”
“Aye. I have believed it all me life.”