Page 28 of Bride of the Wicked Laird (Sparks and Tartans: The MacKinnon Clan’s Romance #11)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I t felt to Davina as if her entire body was fizzing with some new and exciting sensation she’d never before experienced. And she was quite certain it was not simply due to the two cups of mead she’d sipped.

No. She was longing to be alone with Everard to find out if what she’d learned from Aileen about the happenings and explorations that took place between a lad and a lass had any truth to it.

Everard hooked her arm over his as they paced along the passageway to his bedchamber.

“I can hardly wait tae take ye in me arms, wee wifey. Yet I’m aware of prying eyes hereabouts. What I wish fer us tae be at last alone together.”

The fizzing sensation peaked, almost to overflowing. By the time they arrived at his door, she was breathless with anticipation.

“Come.” He opened the door and hoisted her into his arms, kissing her as he strode toward his bed in the antechamber. The draped velvet had been looped and tied on the bedposts and he gently lowered her so that she lay spreadeagled against the pillows, the skirt of her green gown falling above her knee.

His eyes were indigo-dark as he gazed down at her. “Ye’re a sight tae behold, Davina MacNeil, lying there on me bed like a feast waiting fer me tae take the first bite.”

She giggled, making no effort at all to slide her gown lower over her knees. Let his eyes take their fill of me.

Levering herself onto one elbow she watched him loosen the belt holding his great kilt, noting the very large bulge that had appeared. She grinned at him as he slowly undid the gold brooch with the MacNeil crest holding his kilt over his shoulder and lowered the length of plaid, allowing it to drop to the floor.

She sighed with disappointment as his laced-up shirt reached over his muscled thighs, almost to his knees. Whatever was causing that mighty bulge was hidden from her view, and she was longing to gaze upon it.

Aileen had told her that a lad’s shaft hardened and grew so long it almost seemed impossible that it could enter a maid’s body.

After shedding his high leather boots, he slipped one knee onto the bed leaning over her.

“Now, ‘tis time I removed that pretty gown of yers.” His eyes gleamed in the firelight and her pulse quickened. She would be naked before him and he would have his way with every secret place of her body. She trembled as he undid the laces at the front of her gown, with desire. Heat was rippling through her, her skin sensitized, tingling as she recalled the way he’d touched her, in this very bed.

He teased the top of her gown aside and she felt the warm air caress her naked breast, their nubs puckering, growing hard and sensitive. He grunted, lowering his lips to take one of the nubs in his mouth, suckling it, hard, while his hand toyed with the other.

She drew in a sharp breath, moaning slightly. “Oh me laird…”

He looked up, offering a cheeky grin. “D’ye wish me tae stop?”

“Nay, I dinnae wish ye tae stop, but I wish a kiss from ye.”

Keeping his finger and thumb rolling the nub of her other breast he leaned over her and kissed her waiting mouth. She parted her lips as his greedy tongue swept her lower lip, and she met it with her own. The kiss deepened and his hand went to her knee and drew the hem of her gown higher, sliding clever fingers over her skin until he reached her mound.

Davina moaned. Aileen said naught of how this would feel, this pleasure, this feeling that I might die if he daesnae keep touching me.

His voice was hardly more than a honeyed-growl as they broke from their kiss, breathing deep and fast. “Yer skin is smooth and soft as silk.” He shifted, so that he could take her knee in his hand, pushing it gently apart from the other knee, opening her. All the while plying her with kisses on that same silky skin.

She gasped as his lips dawdled their way along her thigh. She called out, “Everard!” as he reached the molten place between her legs, slipping his tongue along her slick folds.

He paused, withdrawing from her, so that she moaned and called his name again.

“Now, sit up fer me.” His voice was husky with passion. “I wish ye tae be naked. I want tae see ye lying there and let me eyes partake of yer beauty. I want tae see yer lovely face as I trace me fingers over every part of ye.”

Obediently, she levered herself up on her elbows so that she sat before him, and raised her arms. In a trice he had taken her gown up and over her head, stripping her. He flung it, without care, to the floor. Then he untied her petticoat, raising her hips so he could peel it off.

The quivering and fizzing had all but taken her over as he seized her shoulders and took her lips into another kiss. He leaned himself on one elbow as she fell back to the softness of the pillows, her loosened hair spreading around her. His freed hand traced from the arch of her throat, across her shoulders, finding her breast again.

She snaked her arms about his shoulders, marveling at the strength of his muscular arms and the ease with which he held her as if she weighed no more than wee Feather.

“I am curious, me laird MacNeil. I wish tae lay me eyes on ye,” she murmured. She studied him as he lay over her, his shirt open, to her gaze so that she was able to enjoy his shapely, hard, belly and the broad, powerful chest with its smattering of black hair.

Her fingers toyed with the fabric of his shirt, and she raised it just a little.

“Nay, lass. Leave me shirt as it is.”

Registering a warning in his voice she removed her hand from him as if she’d been burned. “I dinnae understand. Ye take me gown, and leave me naked before yer eyes. As ye said, ye wish tae see all of me. Yet ye willnae grant me the same.”

His only response was a soulful groan.

Aileen didnae tell me of this. She said lads enjoyed their own nakedness.

“Ye’re right, me sweet Davina. Ye only ask of me what ye give me so readily.”

“Can ye explain this tae me? I wish tae gaze on ye, as mayhap ye wish tae gaze on me. Fer love, fer passion, fer delighting in one tae the other.”

He flung himself onto his back beside her and she eased herself down to lie against him, her hand reaching over his chest, her head on his shoulder.

He gave a soft laugh. “I’ve nay wish tae hide me shaft from yer wicked gaze, lass.”

“Then what is it that keeps ye from being naked before me?”

He studied her face for several moments without saying another word. Then he huffed. as if he was giving in to her. “Mayhap I can explain.”

When she nodded, he began speaking, but now his eyes were on a distant point on the canopy above the bed.

“I ken ye were raised by a cruel man. A man who showed ye nay love.”

She nodded, wondering where this was leading. She had no wish to be reminded of her father at this moment when all she wished to think of was loving.

“I ken ye dinnae wish tae hear aught but joy on this happy night of ours. But, ye’re right. I must explain meself.” He went on. “Me faither, too, was nae a kind man. He was ruthless, cruel at times, and insisted that all should obey him. Nae matter what he demanded.”

Davina drew in a breath. This was taking her to a place she didnae wish to dwell in. She raised her arm and placed a hand on his solid forearm. “Ye dinnae have tae tell me, if this story of yers will bring sadness tae our joy.”

He stroked the soft skin of her hand, folding his arm across his forehead. “Mayhap I understand more than ye ken about what ye suffered at the hands of yer fiather. ‘Twas well that yer brother took ye away.”

She gave him a tiny smile, taking his calloused hand and bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. “But how daes this concern ye and yer shirt?”

“Because she wasnae a lad, me faither disliked me sister Raven, a lass as sweet as a spring day, who ye have yet tae meet.” He moved his arm to tuck it around Davina’s shoulders and held her close. “He wished her tae marry a man who was naught but a brute. A grey-hair, whose wife had died, mayhap at his evil hands. When Raven refused his suit, our faither locked her in her room fer days, without food.”

Davina’s hand flew to her lips in horror, her mind racing back to the privations of the Priory under the cruel ministrations of Dame Maria.

“And what happened? Did yer sister agree tae wed this man?”

He gave a sad smile. “Nay, despite her sweetness she has a strong-will and the determination of a warrior. She was ready tae starve before she’d accept the man.”

Davina shuddered. This was all too familiar. “And he beat her again?”

Everard nodded. “That time he took tae her with his horsewhip. But I came upon him torturing her. I couldnae allow such a thing and I fought him. I dealt him a hard blow that felled him, forcing him tae leave me sister be.”

“So he switched his rage tae ye?”

“Aye. He ordered his guards tae take me tae the depths of the castle, where they laced me hands and anchored me tae the iron rings in the wall so that I couldnae move.”

He looked at her with stricken eyes and she could see that it pained him greatly to relate this dreadful tale. Her heart melted and she took his hand in hers.

“D’ye recall the vows we made this night?” She laid a soft kiss on his hand. “I vowed that me hands would heal ye and wipe away yer hurt. I am with ye now and I’ll dae whatever I can tae lessen yer pain.”

He gulped in a deep breath, and then another, exhaling slowly. “I thank ye from the bottom of me heart.”

He waited a few moments before continuing. “Ye can guess what comes next. Me faither took his whip and thrashed me until I was bloody and senseless.”

His face was a mirror of his pain. She wanted to reach out to him and sooth his twisted features, but she held back, not wishing to break into his thoughts.

“He left me there with nay food or water fer another day and a night.” His voice broke.

“Oh, me dear heart, ye’ve suffered at the hands of one who should have cared fer ye, just as I have. We are more alike than ever ye could tell. I ken only too well how yer soul must have cried out fer justice.” She leaned in and ran a gentle finger down his cheek and across his jaw. “And, he left ye scarred so that ye never wished another soul in this world tae look upon ye.”

He nodded.

“I’ll nae ask ye tae take off yer shirt again, now I understand the depth of yer sorrow,” she said quietly.

He gave a soft laugh and raised his arms to take his shirt in his hands and haul it over his head. “Nay. I am yers now. Only Maxwell and ye have the right tae me story. Even me wee sister daesnae ken what happened on her account. And she will ne’er ken. I dinnae wish her tae have tae wear such a thing on her conscience.”

He slowly turned so that she could look upon his back. She could scarcely contain a gasp at the sight of the deep ridges and raised scars that went from his shoulders all the way to his buttocks, some even wrapping his ribcage.

“I see the marks of yer agony. I understand how ye must have suffered.”

She bent and kissed his scars with the softest, gentlest kisses, following the cruel lines from his shoulders all the way to the lowest of them.

“Ah, lass,” were his only words.

She made no attempt to move away, staying close to him, her naked breasts against the roughness of his back, while she fluttered fingers across his shoulders and down the long, solid, mass of his strong arms.

He sat without moving, then as she raised herself again, he swung around reaching for her, taking her in his arms. There was a brightness in his face, the pain of memory gone.

As their eyes met, a silent promise hung in the air between them.

“I want ye, Everard,” she said, her heart stuttering in her chest. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Aileen told me what happens between a lass and a lad in their bed and, if it’s what ye want, then I wish tae ken it too.”

He gave a soft laugh and rose to his knees on the bed before her. “First, I must grant yer wish tae see the whole part of me that me shirt covered.”

She squealed at the sight of his shaft standing rigid and proud and, laughing now, covered her eyes with her hands.

He threw back his head in a great guffaw as she peeked through her fingers at him.

“Come now.” He sank to be bed beside her, gently prizing her fingers from her eyes. “Yer hands would be better placed… here…” He took her hand and curled her fingers around his steel-hard rod. He groaned loudly as she tightened her grip, moving her hand along the length of him and up again.

Shifting closer, he seized her in his arms. Hooking one of his legs around her ankles, he drew her close to him, so that all of her nakedness lay against his.

Squirming and breathless, she reveled in the sensuous feel of her body against his warmth and her smoothness against the rough hair of his chest and thighs.

Releasing a huge sigh, she unthinkingly parted her lips, inviting his mouth, unaware of anything but the taste of him, the honey-mead still on his tongue, and his man-scent, smoky and sweaty. Their kiss began with healing and joy and the special delight of two souls finding solace in each other. The air blessed them with glowing warmth and the sparks under her skin ignited one by one.

His hand stroked shoulders and down the bare flesh of her body to cup her breast and tease its nub. She moaned into his kiss as his hand slipped lower, raising her hips to meet his touch as he circled her mound and dipped lower.

He took his mouth from her lips and lowered it to the place where his so very talented fingers were tracing divine delight. His hands eased her knees apart so that she was open to his lips and tongue. Her last thought before she disappeared into the wildest depths of her passion was that this was the bliss that she and Aileen had spoken of.

She shifted so that she placed her thighs on either side of him, feeling the rapture of his fingers, gasping as he slipped one finger inside her, but wishing for more, wanting him.

He groaned as his lips and fingers traced her slick folds. “Ye’re so hot and wet and ready fer me.”

Attempting to speak her words came out as muffled groans. “Please,” was all she could manage, as she’d begged him once before. Then she’d had no idea of what it was her body craved so desperately. But now, she understood.

Aileen had told her that when a lass was ready to take a lad’s manhood, nature had a way of making her wet and slick so that he could ease himself inside her without causing pain.

He shifted, resting himself on his elbows and positioned himself so that his hard shaft was poised between her legs.

“Are ye ready fer this, me love? Dae ye ken what happens now?”

“Aye, I asked Aileen tae better understand and be ready. I have never been so sure of anything in me life,” she said, gazing into his eyes.

She raised her knees in invitation and lifted her hips. With agonizing slowness, he parted her folds and slid the tip of himself into her. Unable to resist her desire, she pushed up, taking more of him inside her.

He ground his teeth. “I cannae hold back much longer, me love.”

Her head thrashed against the pillow as she released a pent-up breath. “Dinnae hold back.”

There was no need to urge him further. In that instant he slid all that long, hard, length of him inside her. There was a moment’s discomfort before he withdrew and thrust again. This time, there was no pain as he filled her, again and again, until she found herself blindly gripping his shoulders, crying his name, convulsing around him, as cresting waves of sublime pleasure rolled over her, taking them both to rapture.