Chapter 7
Lachlan entered Sloane’s bedchamber through the adjoining door.
Briefly, he ran his finger down the lock separating them.
The notion that she would need protection from him was absurd and yet, here he was, entering her room when he had no business seeing her that night.
He was supposed to be giving her room to breathe, but his fingers itched to touch her again.
She was dressed in a thin sleeping gown, so thin that it had to be years old. He made a mental note to have his mother go through Sloane’s wardrobe and make sure that she was outfitted properly. She was his wife, not some servant.
The dying fire in the hearth outlined every curve of her body and he stayed close to the wall and he struggled not to groan as his whole body tightened. She stood at the edge of the bed with her hands clasped in front of her as though she was awaiting his order.
“Ye didna eat much of yer dinner.” It felt absurd pointing it out. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it was nerves that kept her pecking at her dinner.
“I sampled a few things while I was learning the order of the kitchen staff,” Sloane said slowly as her gaze shifted down.
“Shall I add another blanket to yer bed? I doona want ye to get cold tonight.”
“There is no need to bother. I am not used to such luxuries.”
Angry, Lachlan bit off an oath. He didn’t want to be unkind about her father while she was within earshot, but he was close to wanting to beat the man senseless.
“Sloane, ye are the wife of a laird. If ye are cold, all ye have to do is say and we will remedy the situation immediately.”
“That is kind of ye. If I am cold, I will say something.” There was an uncertainty in her eyes that haunted him.
Sighing, he strode across the chamber and pulled the blanket down. “Come.”
Her eyes widened some and she reached for the buttons of her gown. “No. There is no need for ye to undress and ye will be warmer if ye wear the gown. I doona mean to take ye tonight.”
Timidly, she sat on the bed and slipped under the covers.
Before he changed his mind, Lachlan slid under as well and faced her.
“I want ye to get used to me in yer bed, Sloane,” he said baldly.
“I willna spend the entire night here, but I will spend some time here. I will ask ye to spend time in my bed as well.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Good.”
He relaxed a little and studied her. She was so dainty as the covers engulfed her. He wanted to tiptoe around her, clear the room, and make sure that nothing could break her, but he suspected there was something beneath the porcelain surface. No one had taken the time to draw that out.
“Tomorrow I would like ye to take the time and get to know some of Freya’s friends. I think it will help ye feel more at home.”
“I would like that.” Her voice trembled just a little as she stared at him.
“Sloane, if ye didna normally accompany yer father on clan business, why did he ask ye to accompany him to Quinn’s funeral?”
Clutching the furs, she drew them up to her chin and blocked any view he had of the lovely swells of her breasts. “I doona know. He sent a servant to pack for me and he didna say much while we journeyed here. ’Tis not my place to question him.”
Not her place. He hated listening to those words come out of her mouth. “Doona do that here,” he muttered. “If ye have a question, ask it.”
“All right.”
Bloody hell. She was so damn complacent even though he could see the mix of fear and hesitation in her eyes. In time, he would have to show her that she had more free will.
“Did ye think of the kiss?” he asked her hotly as he tugged the furs back down. Mutely, she nodded and he grinned. “Good. I thought of that kiss as well. Would ye like another?”
“Ye are my husband. ’Tis yer right to kiss me.”
“’Tis not what I asked,” he whispered as he pushed himself up on his elbows.
Gently, he pressed against her shoulder until she rolled onto her back and he skimmed his hands down her arm until he could feather his fingers along her side. She inhaled sharply and shivered. “Do ye want me to kiss ye again?”
“Aye.”
With a sigh of pleasure, he leaned over and teased his lips over hers but held himself back. He wanted her to get used to his body against hers and become confident enough to ask what she wanted. He didn’t want complacency. He wanted a taste of the passion he suspected simmered within her.
“Tell me how ye feel, Sloane.” Leaning back, he became a little bolder with his touch and danced his fingers over her abdomen.
“I doona think I should.”
He nearly smirked. Now she was going to question him? “Are ye embarrassed?”
“Aye.”
“Then let us make a new rule. In this bed, ye have absolute freedom and will feel no shame. Ye may ask and say what ye wish without fear of retribution. So, tell me how ye feel, Sloane. Tell me what ye want.”
She squirmed under his touch and he moved his hands under the swell of her breasts until they brushed across her nipples. They instantly hardened and she whimpered just a little. The sound alone hardened everything in his body until his manhood ached.
“Hot,” she whispered. “There is a strange flush in my body and a need that I doona understand. A tension.”
“I can ease that tension, Sloane. I can satisfy that need.” This time, when he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers, she opened beneath him and tentatively touched her tongue to his.
Hands shaking, Lachlan groaned and forced himself to move slowly.
Her inexperience was strangely intoxicating and rather than dampening his own desire, it only served to inflame it.
Releasing her, he pushed the blankets off them completely and stripped off his shirt. Her eyes darkened as they swept over him. “Ye can touch me, Sloane,” he muttered as he covered her with his body. “I want ye to touch me.”
She moved and hovered her fingers over his bare chest, but she couldn’t close the inch between them, so he circled his hands around her wristss and pressed her hands against his skin. Her touch rippled through him and sent sparks through his body. Once she started touching him, she didn’t stop.
“Kiss me again,” she said hoarsely. “Please.”
Please. God. Dipping his head, he did as she asked, but it was harder, deeper, and more urgent. Her mouth was warm and silky as she grew bolder and stroked her tongue against his. With the small moan that escaped her throat, he began to see the woman beneath the blank mask.
More. He wanted more.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured as he kissed a line along her jaw and trailed it down her throat.
She explored more of him through touch and slid those questing fingers over his back and down his spine.
They hesitated at his hips and while he desperately wanted those fingers wrapped around his erection, he didn’t press. Not tonight.
Tonight, she would feel and understand her own release.
Tugging up her dressing gown, he caressed the creamy bare skin of her thighs. Gasping, she moved underneath him. At first, he thought that she was trying to close her legs and deny him access, but instead, she did the opposite as she buried her face in his neck.
“Nay, Sloane. Doona hide yer face from me. I want to see ye when ye climax.”
Her cheeks were pink as she settled her head back on the pillow. “What are ye going to do?” she muttered. “What are ye doing?”
“I’m touching ye, Sloane. Feel how slick yer thighs are? ‘Tis yer desire for me. That’s how I know that ye are ready for me, so when I slide inside of ye, ye will feel nothing but pleasure.”
“Now?”
“Ye have no idea how badly I want to say yes, but ye are not ready. I willna leave ye aching tonight though, Sloane. I want ye to understand yer own desire.”
Sliding his finger up her inner thigh, he captured her lips again and moaned when he felt just how hot and wet she was. A shudder ran through him and he slowly eased a single finger inside her tunnel.
“Lachlan!” she gasped and clamped her legs around his hand.
Chuckling, he nibbled on her neck. “While I love listening to my name in yer mouth, doona deny me this. How does it feel?”
“Good,” she muttered as she eased her legs apart and allowed him to stroke her. “Ah… are ye sure that this is right?”
“My sweet, sweet Sloane,” he whispered. “’Tis more than right. Sharing a bed with me will bring ye naught but pleasure.”
Knowing he couldn’t keep playing with her for all that much longer and still retain his own control, he slid his finger along her hot button.
Eyes filled with shock, she bowed under his touch and he watched part of her shell shatter.
Releasing all shame and uncertainty, she moved and gasped and moaned under his fingers as he continued to play with her.
“Release yerself, Sloane. Let it go,” he demanded hotly as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her throat.
A keen shriek echoed off the wall and he pulled back just in time to watch her shudder and fall apart around his finger.
Clinging to him tightly, she dug her nails into his skin and jerked as he continued to stroke her.
“No more,” she moaned. “Please. ’Tis sensitive.”
Gently easing his finger away, he kissed her softly. His muscles were so taut that they hurt and his erection strained against her, but he held himself back. Shaking from the control that it took not to sheath himself inside of her, he eased back and kissed her forehead.
“Get some sleep,” he whispered. “I will see ye tomorrow.”
He hated leaving her heat, but if he spent the night with her, there was no telling what he would do in his sleep if her body was curved around him. Regretfully, he escaped to his own room and shut the door.
Groaning, Lachlan leaned against the door, closed his eyes, and grasped himself. The mental image of her sweet face open and hot with her climax was burned into his mind and even after he spent himself, it stayed with him.