Page 29 of Bride of the Mad Laird (Sparks and Tartans #12)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

L yra’s scent was in his nostrils and his heart was beating fast as he took her in his arms and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. Already he felt his shaft growing harder, yet he knew full well that he must use every scrap of restraint in his power.

She was an innocent, a lass who had never viewed a man’s rod when it grew into steel. Despite her eager responses to his kisses, he was aware he was a big man and sometimes daunting for the lasses he had bedded in the past. Mayhap she would be horrified.

He carried her across to the chair by the fire and let her slip through his arms so that she stood before him.

“Would ye care fer a sip of mead or wine, me lady wife?” He asked, suddenly at a loss as to how he should behave. After all, this business of marrying was new to him too.

How was a groom supposed to be with his new wife on their wedding night?

She glowed in the firelight, as he handed her a goblet of wine and poured himself two fingers of whisky.

“Well,” she said after taking a sip of the fine French wine. “Will ye kiss me again?”

He gave a small laugh at her boldness. Mayhap this night would not be such a trouble after all. He placed his whisky on the table and took her in his arms.

Apart from their tender kiss in the chapel under Father Padraig’s instructions, he had only given her gentle, brief kisses that day, when all the while he’d been aching for her.

When he had first glimpsed her on Edward’s arm walking toward him in the chapel his heart had all but left his chest. He had marveled at her beauty and at the glorious –and scarcely believable – fact that she was to be his.

Lyra’s face was upturned, her eyes closed, her lips parted just so, waiting for his kiss. He dipped his head and took her mouth with his.

At first the kiss was chaste, soft, delicate as a robin’s wing, yet she wound her arms around his neck, urging his head down, her tongue teasing his lower lip. In response, there was the rush of blood in his veins, a swirling heat that started in his belly and went to his groin like a flame igniting. He felt himself growing hard.

As the kiss deepened, their tongues melding together, her breasts pushing hard against his chest, a little sound issued from somewhere deep in Lyra’s throat, that brought an answering growl from him. He pressed her curves close, folding his hands over the round globes of her buttocks, his hardened shaft finding a place between her thighs.

She gasped, one hand reaching between them, feeling his jutting member beneath his kilt.

“Och, me dear Lord, that part of ye has grown tae a giant size, me husband.”

He chuckled, holding her at arm’s length. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “Aye lass, daes it discourage ye?”

She gave a soft laugh in return and wiggled her hips against him. “I dinnae ken. I’d like tae see it wi’ me own eyes. Such a thing can hardly fit inside me as Eilidh described.”

“Yet, ye are made fer it.” Without further words, he swung her into his arms and walked to the beside where he lowered her gently into the center.

She lay back, dressed in all her wedding finery, and he simply stood by the bed, gazing at her, wanting to emblazon the sight on his memory to last him for the rest of his days. His precious bride, perfect and untouched, waiting for his touch, eyes wide, chest rising and falling on his bed.

He ached for her, his fingers itching to stroke her satin skin, his shaft granite-hard.

She reached up to touch his hand. “Are ye to spend the night standing there gazing at me, as if I am another tasty morsel ye’d like to eat?”

He laughed, divesting himself of his jacket and undoing the gold brooch that held his kilt shawl on his shoulder. He hauled off his shirt and stood before her bare chested.

“Hmm,” she muttered, “ye’re a fine-looking man.”

He leaned down and pressed a firm kiss on her forehead. “Compared tae what? I thought ye’d ne’er beheld a naked man?”

She pshawed. “Never naked, but ‘twas nay difficult tae see the priests wi’ their flabby arms and their pot-bellies were nay as fine as ye even in their cassocks.”

He growled a laugh. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. It was past time to see her naked on his bed.After pulling off his boots, he sat on the bed and leaned over her, his hand toying at the neckline of her gown.

She sucked in a breath as his fingers trailed across her shoulder. “As I recall, ye told me ye would dae all manner of things tae me on this night. Ye said something about undoing the buttons on me dress...”

He reached for the braid.

“I’ll start wi’ yer bonny hair, and then I’ll decide where next I should pay attention.”

To his amusement and great delight, she huffed impatiently. He began to think she was as impatient for his touch as he was.

He untied the ribbon and slowly teased his fingers through the braid, until it was all undone. Then he spread it across his pillow in a great golden, fragrant, cloud.

Her eyes were dark emeralds as she watched him, her chest rising and falling with every deep breath she took.

“Now. Remind me what it was I said I’d dae tae ye?”

She hauled in a breath, blowing it out softly. “Ye... ye... said...” Her voice cracked as he undid the first of the buttons on her gown.”

“Was it something like this?” He paused, his fingers hovering over her newly exposed skin. He could hardly bear the waiting.

“Aye, aye, it was that ye’d undae all the buttons.”

“Ah, yes, I remember.” He grinned, his nimble fingers making short work of the buttons. “And then...?” He peeled the fabric away from her shoulders and arms, so that her breast were all but naked to him. He dipped his head and kissed the smooth, silk of her, angling down from her throat.

She brought one hand up and clutched at his arm, as if by holding onto him she could bring him closer. He nuzzled her breast and cupped it with his hand, laying bare the hard little nub and stroking it between thumb and forefinger, taking the other nub between his lips, to lave it with his tongue.

Her response was a groan of pleasure as she arched herself, her head back on the pillow, her eyes closed.

With his mouth still busy with her breast, he raised the hem of her gown so that her legs were laid bare. He inched the skirt higher. She sucked in a harsh breath, as his fingers strayed above her knee to the soft velvet of her thighs.

Her legs were long and shapely, but as his hand moved higher, she pressed them tightly together.

His hand stroked gently up and down, each movement taking him higher.

“Oh,” she exclaimed.

“Is that touch nae tae yer liking?” He held his voice steady, even though it was breaking him to move with such restraint. All he wanted was to plunge into her and take her every scrap of her being, body and soul.

She was gasping. “I didnae think it would feel so....”

“So what?” He grinned, delighting in the emotions he glimpsed on her face. Doubt, confusion, delight. A sucked in breath of surprise.

“So... thrilling.”

He gave the softest of laughs. “It will become even more thrilling.”

As he stroked, ever closer to her mound, she shifted her thighs, opening them. His fingers traced the inner satin, and she made a little guttural cry of astonishment. He drew his hand away and she clutched it, bringing it back to her core.

“Dinnae stop,” she commanded.

He couldn’t resist her lips, so he leaned in, dizzy with her sweet fragrance of lavender and roses, his senses on fire for her, his shaft almost unbearably hard.

“And, now I’ve come tae the part of me story where ye shift yer hips and raise yer arms so I can lift yer gown and take it over yer head.

She was quick to oblige, and with a few swift moves her gown was off and carelessly tossed over the back of a chair next to the bed. He made short work of the strings of her petticoat, pulling it down over her feet until, at last, she lay naked before him. Her eyes gleamed in the candle light, her hair spreading in glorious waves over his pillow.

It was just as he'd dreamed on so many nights as he lay tossing fitfully in his bed or under the stars on a rocky hillside.

“But ye...” She reached for the belt holding his kilt. “Ye must be naked wi’ me.”

He laughed at her earnestness as she grappled with the buckle until it was finally undone and the belt and his kilt fell away leaving him with his shaft jutting and his breath coming in rapid pants. She reached a tentative hand to his member.

“I didnae ken what it would feel like. But ‘tis soft, yet as hard as the iron poker by the fire.”

She glanced up with a dubious expression, her brows drawn together. “I cannae believe such a very large thing can fit inside me, me husband.”

He lay beside her and took her in his arms, his kiss strong and unrelenting. He felt her molding to him, her body limp in his arms so that he could hold her as he wished. He took one of her legs beneath the knee and drew it across his own, so that they lay side by side, and she opened to him.

“And what comes next in yer story?” Her voice was husky, her body moving against him, his shaft between her thighs.

“Why, me lady wife, what comes next is that I cover ye wi’ kisses.”

“All of me?” she asked in a small voice.

He rolled her over so that she was on her back and layered soft kisses on her eyelids and then her cheeks to the arch of her throat and descended further.

She filled his senses with the touch of her silken, alabaster, skin, her throaty moans, her lavender and roses scent mixing with the musk of her arousal.

He took her breast in his mouth, laving it with his tongue, nipping with his teeth until she cried his name. All the while his clever fingers were stroking her, parting her thighs, parting her folds, slipping into the sleek wetness of her quim.

His kisses trailed lower and she stiffened as he played with his tongue among the golden curls on her mound. He kissed her folds and she shuddered under him, his finger moving now into her soaking velvet. Her hips rose and fell to the rhythm of his fingers.

He lifted his head, sensing the need for a warning. “Some lasses find their first time tae be somewhat painful.”

Between gasps, she giggled. “I’ve heard that it’s nae painful fer lasses who’ve sat astride on horseback.”

“Ah,” he muttered. “And who told ye that, pray?”

“It was Eilidh. She told me that mayhap, because I rode wi’ ye on Paden’s back fer three days, there’d be naught but pleasure in me first time.”

He spluttered. “Well me lady, methinks it is something we shall learn the truth of sooner, rather than later. I am aching tae be inside ye.” His words sounded bold to his ears but that was the truth of it. If he didn’t plunge his shaft into this heavenly creature who was now his wife, and lose himself in her soon, he’d die and surely go to hell for wanting her so badly.

Arching her back and pressing herself against his hand she dragged in a tortured breath, uttering the softest laugh.

“And I wish fer naught but tae consummate our marriage.”

She tangled her hands into his long dark hair and pulled his head to her for a kiss, weaving her legs around his. “Show me what happens between a lass and a lad on the night they are wed. I cannae wait any longer tae ken it.”

He rolled her under him and without a word she opened to him, lifting herself so that her core was close to his rigid shaft. He stroked a hand between her thighs, slipping a finger into her entrance, widening her to take him.

He poised his shaft, afraid of causing pain, but she rose her hips to him, taking him inside her with one intense movement. He moaned, abandoning himself to the silken, smooth intoxication of her.

She met his thrusts with a wild cry, her nails scraping his shoulders, her legs wrapped tight around him.

All his pent-up restraint was gone as he claimed her, grunting, groaning, making her his own with the age-old rhythm of passion and desire. He felt her tightening around him, bucking against him, screaming his name, lost in her own glorious climax. Then he was gone into another realm where there was naught but pleasure and the sweet lass he clasped in his arms.

As their night wore on, they slept, they wakened, they kissed, they made love. Tòrr taught Lyra many things about the ways of a lass and a lad and learned a great deal in the process.

One thing he learned was that, without a shadow of doubt, he would lay down his life for her.