Chapter Fourteen #2
Merry’s cheeks heated at the very thought of what tonight would bring. Her sisters had fully informed her of what to expect, but she still couldn’t quite imagine what it would be like. If it was nearly as wonderful as Duncan’s kisses… Her cheeks burned even hotter.
“Merry, are you holding your breath again?” Serendipity asked with sisterly concern.
“Why do ye hold yer breath?” Duncan cupped Merry’s face, barely caressing her cheek with the heel of his thumb. “Are ye unwell, lass?”
“I am not holding it.” She pulled in a deep breath and blew it out to prove her point. “The excitement of the day has simply made me giddy.” The smile he gave her thrilled her even more. “You’re smiling.”
“Aye, my own. Because ye have made me the happiest man in the world.”
Coming up behind them, Simon cleared his throat with a loud harrumph. “Forgive the interruption, but here be yer copy of the marriage lines, m’lady.”
“Thank you, Simon.” Merry took the document and handed it to Chance. “Will you give this to our solicitors for safekeeping?”
He tucked it inside his coat. “Happy to, Lady Kirkston.”
“Now, that has a fair ring to it,” Duncan said as he escorted her into the neighboring pub.
“I fear it will take some getting used to, both for myself and your mother.” As they sat at a table beside the window, her ring caught a ray of sunlight and took on an even richer shade of blue. “This ring is so very lovely. I adore sapphires.”
“It was my grandmother’s, and now it is yers.”
Merry wiggled her fingers to make it sparkle even more. “And someday, our son can give it to his wife.”
Duncan glanced aside and resettled himself in his chair as though struggling to get comfortable. “What shall ye drink, my own? Spirits, or will a fine spot of tea suit ye better?”
Confused by his sudden oddness, Merry touched his arm. “Duncan? What is wrong? Is your arm troubling you?”
“Nay, love. I am fine.”
She couldn’t question him further because Malcolm returned and gathered everyone else over to the table, followed by the barmaid with a tray of drinks. He raised his glass in a toast. “To the newlyweds. Long life and happiness to them, and a house overflowing with bairns!”
“Hear, hear!” Everyone echoed—everyone except Duncan.
Sensing something wasn’t quite right, but not understanding what it might be, Merry studied Duncan as closely as she could without actually staring at him.
His coloring was good, and he used his right arm as much as he dared, even lifting his tankard with it.
But there was something in his eyes. A worry of some sort—and the way he had looked away when she had mentioned that someday their son could give this precious ring to his wife. What had that meant?
*
Duncan’s jaws ached from clenching his teeth so tightly.
Guilt over the decision he had made overshadowed the joy the day had brought him.
But he had to be strong. His beloved wife’s life depended on it.
Merry would understand. She would be disappointed, but eventually, she would understand. At least, he prayed that she would.
Head bowed, he knocked on the door to their room at the inn. He had allowed her a wee bit of privacy before joining her on this special night. He sucked in a ragged breath and blew it out, settling hard and fast into the determination to carry through with his plan no matter what.
She opened the door, partially hidden by it as she stepped back so he might enter. “You had me worried.”
“Why is that, my own?”
After closing the door and securing the latch, she faced him. “In the pub…I could tell something wasn’t right.”
He drew closer, unable to resist combing his fingers into the silk of her unbound hair. A mesmerizing river of gold, it tumbled across her shoulders and down her back.
“I never dreamt such happiness could ever be mine,” he whispered, truly amazed that his life had come to this.
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch while sliding a hand up his chest. “Our lives will be rich with love and laughter.”
If she only knew what a rare and precious thing that was. He bent his head and took her mouth, groaning at the supple sweetness of her lips. Never would he get enough of her. “Ye are my heart and soul, my own. Forevermore.”
She kissed him back with a fervor that both inflamed and alarmed him. What a passionate woman he had married. Heaven give him the strength to do what needed to be done to keep her safe, and if she discovered his intentions, heaven help her forgive him.
Gently tugging at his jacket, she eased a step back.
“Do not think me wanton, but might you remove a few things? I do not wish to hurt your arm.” Then she bit her lip.
“What my sisters described seems like it could cause you pain. After all, it’s only been a little over a week since you were shot.
Should we wait until you are fully healed? ”
Gads alive, what all had her sisters told her?
Doing his best not to flinch at the dull ache in his arm as he removed his jacket, waistcoat, and stock, he chose his words carefully regarding the consummation of their vows.
“Accommodations can be made to ensure all is well.” His arm was the least of his worries at the moment.
The wants and needs of his aching man-parts were first and foremost in his mind—and keeping her safe from getting a bairn.
Her delicate scent of lilacs wafted all around him, making his mouth water and driving him to bury himself inside her and never leave.
The way her thin, lacy shift outlined her curves teased the lusty beast within him.
He itched to tear it away, then drop to his knees and worship her the way she deserved.
With every layer of his clothing that he shed, her eyes went even wider. The soft golden light of the single oil lamp lent her an almost ethereal glow. She plucked at the shoulder of her chemise and untied the ribbon closing its neckline.
After removing his boots and stockings, he rid himself of his kilt and draped it over a nearby chair.
“Uhm…” she said, almost making it sound like the purring of a kitten.
“It will be all right, lass.” He sauntered closer. “I swore to always protect ye, remember?”
“You are so…” She didn’t finish that sentence either and appeared to be struggling not to stare below his waist.
Lore a’mighty, the way she looked at him nearly caused him to spill himself before he’d ever touched her.
With a flick of her fingers, her shift fell to the floor and puddled around her feet. The sight of her standing there, a lilac-scented golden goddess, made him groan.
Then she rushed into his arms and molded herself against him, pulling him down for a kiss.
He tightened his embrace. To hell with his arm.
He needed the velvety delight of her flesh against his.
Cupping her fine, round buttocks, he pulled her closer.
Hellfire and damnation, his plan to keep her from getting with child was going to be an almost insurmountable chore.
But he would do it. He had sworn to keep her safe.
The most delightful noises, little, yearning moans and gasps, escaped from her as he nibbled and kissed his way along her throat, across her collarbone, then tasted each of her lovely breasts.
As he worked his way lower still, trailing his fingertips ahead of his kisses, she arched into him and tangled her fingers in his hair, clutching fistfuls and crying out as he sampled where no man had ever touched her before.
When her knees buckled, he lowered her back across the bed. The way she fisted her hands in the bedclothes roared through him with an urgency to take her. But not yet. He wanted to make her ready, pleasure her until she was too limp and sated to notice how their lovemaking ended.
With her legs draped over his shoulders, he reveled in her with his fingers and tongue, adoring her until she bucked and shuddered, crying out her pleasure.
Then he kissed his way back up her body, trailing his touch along the supple length of her, memorizing every dip and curve, cherishing every part of her.
“My own,” he said softly, nuzzling the warm, salty sweetness where her neck met her shoulder. “I love ye with a fury I have never known.”
Hugging her legs around his hips, she arched up to meet him. “Take me, my champion. Make me fully yours.”
He braced his legs against the side of the bed to keep from collapsing where he stood. This way would serve them best, not only because of his arm but so he could withdraw before it was too late. “I dinna wish to hurt ye,” he said as she stretched to hug him closer.
“I am not a hothouse lily, remember?” Even in the shadows, daring and a hunger for life danced in her eyes.
“I am lilacs and heather. We brave anything.” She touched his cheek and teased her thumb along his bottom lip.
“And my sisters said it’s just a little sting that is well worth it.
” She pressed up against him again. “I ache for you. Take me.”
A deep, rumbling groan worked free of him as he eased into her. Gads alive, she was so feckin’ tight. Struggling for control, he went deeper, then completed their joining with a quick thrust.
She gasped, and her eyes flared wide again, then she smiled. “Now, I am yours.”
“Mine,” he growled as he withdrew and thrust into her hot, wet depths again. As easily and wonderfully as they had fit together when they danced, she immediately matched this rhythm, meeting him thrust for thrust.
He had to hold out a little longer. If he could just last until she found her pleasure again… Instinct told him that if he withdrew before then, there would be hell to pay with explanations.
And then she moaned, shuddering as she crested once again, pulling at him, enticing him to bury himself as deep as he could and fill her until she could hold no more. She clutched at him, crying out as wave after wave of ecstasy shook through her.