Page 35 of The Duke’s Scottish Bride (Scottish Duchesses #3)

“We will take it slow, my tempest. I will make sure every moment we share together fills you with sheer bliss,” he said as he walked to her, leaned over her on the sofa, and kissed her cheek reverently. “You do not need to worry. Not now and not ever. I will make this perfect for you.”

“I daenae ken what to say…I…I…”

“Say that you are mine, my tempest.”

“I am yers, Anselm.”

“That is a good lass,” he said as he lowered his body onto hers. “Kiss me.”

She raised her mouth to meet his so that they might resume the hot, tender deluge of soft kisses, licks and nibbles. She wrapped her teeth around his bottom lip and tugged slightly enjoying the fullness of it.

“I need to…to stop.” He pushed himself away from her abruptly.

“What in the bloody hell is the matter?” Marion asked, startled at the pause. “You cannae stop now!”

“We cannot do this here, much as I need you as soon as possible. Quick, put on your clothes.” He dressed hurriedly, grabbing his breeches and stepping into them. “We are going to my room. I will not let our first time be on your studio sofa. There will be time for that later.”

“Aye, ye are right!”

She jumped to her feet and began to dress, even more quickly than Anselm, throwing up pieces of fabric and hoping they covered the appropriate places. As soon as she was somewhat decent, he swept her up into his impossibly brawny arms and she let out a giggle.

“Are you ready for this, wife?” he asked as he kicked open the door of the studio and carried her quickly down the hall.

“Somethin’ tells me you have done this before,” Marion said with a giggle.

“Not a chance,” he whispered in her ear, tickling her neck with his beard. “There are going to be many more firsts between us, Duchess. You are the only woman for me.”

Marion leaned forward, her hand fumbling for the handle before she managed to turn it.

The door swung open with a soft creak, and he swept her inside, kicking it closed behind them. He placed her down gently before undressing her, more slowly this time. It was as if the hot urgency of their earlier exchange tempered him, allowing him to savor the moment.

“I have never seen such perfect breasts,” he whispered as he brought her undergarments down her body and threw them to the floor.

“Ye really think so? I have never given it much thought?—”

“Surely you are joking; you are the perfect woman,” he said as he took off his clothes in front of her, casting them on the floor with her scraps. “I am a very, very lucky man.”

“Ye are one to talk! I think when they spoke of Adonis, they really meant Anselm Drummond!”

“Are we going to talk all night and dole out compliments, or can I finally make you my wife completely?”

Marion nodded then and a wide smile pulled on her cheeks. He lowered himself onto her and smothered her with tender kisses—first at her neck and then he trailed lower to settle on her breasts.

“Oh, me goodness,” Marion said as she tightened her legs together to quell her need to feel him there. “Your lips there… it is an incredible feelin’.”

“I cannot tell you how much you please me, just by being you.”

He continued to suckle her pert nipples, alternating between the two and palming them hungrily. He subtly shifted his weight to put himself between her legs as he rubbed his hard length up and down her wet sex.

“You are so ready to take me, wife. Do you feel it?”

“Aye.” She closed her eyes tight in response to the reeling sensations. “I think I am, although I daenae ken what to do. Ye will have to be patient with me.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

He trailed his finger down and settled on the soft bud in between her legs. He circled it gently, applying pressure with his thumb and thrusting his hard length in a rhythmic motion at her entrance. She bucked at the pressure, trying to pull him into her.

“Not so fast,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to get you good and worked up for me, my Scottish tempest.”

“I am ready,” she said as he pressed perfectly on her, pushing her over the edge. “I am ready for ye, I promise. Please.”

He slowly pressed his hard length inside of her, closing all the space between them until they were one being.

His movements were small and precise, which Marion knew had to be in sharp contrast to the urges he felt. He was tender and respectful of her as she adjusted to the fullness inside of her.

“Are you all right, my tempest?” he asked as he pulled out slightly to gauge her comfort. “Because if you are not, please…just say the word and I will stop?—”

“Keep goin’,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him tight against her. “Daenae stop.”

He picked up his pace then, filling her to the hilt again and again as she pulled him closer and closer with her strong legs. She looked up at him. The strength of his body was so hot as she felt him drive into her again and again.

It is as if we are meant for each other , she thought.

“You take me like the good girl you are, Marion,” he said as he picked up his eager pace. “I am close to release, but I need to feel yours again and on my cock.”

“Oh, I am right there with ye, husband,” she cried.

“Marion,” he growled huskily. His body convulsed as hot sweat dripped from his brow onto her full breasts.

He lowered himself onto his side next to her. After a moment or two of catching his breath, he rose to his feet to grab a cloth and wash basin. He dipped it in the cool water and began dabbing it on her, cleaning her almost reverently.

“Ye daenae need to do that,” she said as she tried to rise, which was useless as he guided her back down onto the bed.

“I told you, you will want for nothing ever again, my tempest,” he said as he dipped the cloth in the water and ran it over her hot sex. “I will take good care of you.”

After he finished washing her, he covered her with the lush duvet and walked over to a table that held watered wine. He poured her a small glass and offered it to her lips.

“Drink,” he said, and she did.

He crawled back into bed and pulled her close.

She settled her head on his chest as they looked up at the ceiling.

She had not noticed before the beautiful intricacies of his four-poster bed and the fabric on the ceiling.

There were tiny golden stars that created a pattern along a deep crimson fabric.

She found her eyes getting lost as she moved from one star to the next, creating shapes that morphed into moving comets.

“I like to look up at the stars, too,” he said. “Ever since I was a young boy.”

“I loved to go out to the fields and lay in the grass on warm summer nights to do just that.”

“We will share it together, my tempest,” he whispered in her ear.

“I like the sound of that,” she said as her heavy eyes began to close. “Aye, let us talk more of that… in the mornin’…”