Page 24 of The Lady’s Reckless Abandon (Safely in Scotland #1)

W hen they returned home, Mrs. MacDougal and Mrs. Feather had prepared a proper wedding feast. The spirits were passed around but neither Lily nor her new husband partook of a sip.

She knew what had stopped her. After her earlier mishaps, she knew she didn’t want to spend her wedding night with her head a muddle. But as the festivities wore down and Finn offered his arm and a warm smile to lead her to his bedchamber, Lily wished she might have had a sip. Just enough to stop the shaking in her legs as she climbed the stairs at his side.

“Is everything well? If you don’t wish to—”

“Everything is wonderful. I do wish to,” she sounded more certain than she felt. It was silly really. She wasn’t even a virgin. She knew what to expect in his bed.

Uncomfortable fullness, followed by a pleasant few minutes until it was over and she was left feeling hungry, but not for food. She didn’t even have to worry about the pain for that part had been done away with by a man who hadn’t deserved such a gift.

She paused just inside his door and turned to face him when he closed it behind them. He took off his coat and waistcoat so he was just in his shirtsleeves.

“I should say something,” she said, though she wasn’t certain how to say what she wanted to tell him.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged when she said nothing else. He crossed his arms to wait.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said.

“There’s no need to be sorry. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

She shook her head, wishing she’d not spoken at all. She was ruining this perfect moment. But it was too late to stop now, so she pushed forward.

“No. I’m sorry I’m not…I can’t give you…I’m sorry I’m already…That I’m not a…” This was the hardest thing she’d never actually said.

His brows pinched for a moment before understanding dawned on his beautiful face and he was shaking his head adamantly.

“Lily, I don’t care about that. Do I wish that scoundrel hadn’t hurt you in that way, yes, and I always will. But you are my wife. And trust me when I tell you, it makes no difference to me so long as you share my bed every night.”

She nodded and let out the breath she was holding. She saw nothing in his eyes that made her think he was anything but sincere.

“Shall we start with kissing? We are quite good at that,” she said.

He chuckled and nodded before moving close to whisper against her lips.

“We are very good at that.”

Their lips touched, and like the times before, a soft kiss soon turned into an all-consuming need. But this time they didn’t need to stop. They could continue on. She reached for his cravat and tried to tug it free without pulling away, but the bloody thing wouldn’t come free.

With a frustrated huff, she stepped back so she could focus on loosening the knot as he slid aside his braces, and pulled the shirt from his breeches.

He pulled his shirt over his head and she reached out to touch the flat planes of his chest and stomach, but instead he took her hands and turned her so she was facing away from him.

He started loosening her laces, his fingers pulling them through more adeptly than any maid she’d ever had. She briefly wondered how many times he’d done that service for a woman and decided it didn’t matter.

He didn’t care about what had happened in her past so she would provide him the same grace with his own past.

He spun her again, causing her to laugh before he was kissing her.

She lost track of which articles of clothing came off next, she was only happy when they were both naked and he was laying her back on his bed, his large body coming down over hers.

She expected he would move inside her and her body tightened as she prepared for the invasion, but he only stopped kissing to look down at her.

“What happened?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I was just getting ready.”

He smiled. “Nay, lass. We have all night. I want to spend most of it touching every part of you.”

She didn’t understand, but she was not going to argue if it meant putting off that part of the ordeal a little longer. She was happy to kiss him. She enjoyed when he kissed her neck and then gasped when he kissed her breasts and sucked the peaks into his mouth. That was quite pleasant.

He didn’t stop there, though, he continued down, and down until he settled her legs to the sides and licked her in the place she was expecting something else. But this, was incredible. As he continued, she felt the familiar building of tension in her body as she had before. As if she were climbing but never reached the peak.

Except as he continued, he slid a finger in her body and the combination of the movements on the inside and what he was doing on the outside were enough to shoot her to that place she’d not gotten to before.

She couldn’t catch her breath and her body throbbed as if trying to grip his fingers and hold him there. She realized she was making noises and even speaking, but it was just gibberish and his name over and over. Until his entering her stole her breath away.

She was shocked at how easily he slid inside her body despite the size of him being larger than that bumbling oaf she refused to think of. It seemed her body had smoothed the way, as if welcoming the duke.

When he began to move inside of her, she realized the only feelings she had were pleasure. There was no sting, no burning. Just a warm want.

And then that earlier feeling returned yet again. Urging gasps and sounds from her throat as he built her up and pushed her over the edge. Strange that she would find this place twice in so little time when it had remained out of her grasp that night at the inn. She could only account the difference was this man.

And then as she was still enjoying the echoing throbs of their passion, he stopped moving and she felt the hot pulsing inside of her that indicated he had finished. But his release was so much more satisfying after she had completed her climax as well.

A few minutes of silence were broken when she couldn’t help from asking, “What was that?”

She thought she might need to elaborate on her question, but her new husband must have understood for he chuckled in a way she could only think of as smug.

*

Finn had not wanted his bride to compare their experience to what had transpired with the arse. But knowing she had not been satisfied did bring him a certain degree of pleasure.

She may not have come to his bed chaste—something he cared little about—but at least he was the first man to bring her to climax. That was an even more desirable first in his mind.

“You have not experienced such gratification before.”

She was the one to laugh now.

“And don’t you look like the cat that got in the cream over that fact?”

“Should I apologize?”

“No. I think you’ve earned the right to feel superior. You are so, in every way.”

His cheeks hurt from his grin.

“I am pleased to have pleased you, duchess.”

“My, I didn’t think I cared about the title, but when you say it like that it gives me an odd thrill.” Her words were proven by a little shiver against him.

“How did I say it?” He hadn’t thought he’d said it in any particular way, but he wanted to make sure he said everything in the same fashion if it caused such a reaction.

“I’m not sure. Possessively?” she pondered.

That made sense. “I imagine I do feel possessive, though not in a barbaric way. But you are mine now.”

“I would not judge you for being barbaric, you are a Scot, after all,” she teased. “And now that I’m a Scot by marriage, I’m feeling rather barbaric myself for if I am yours, that makes you mine as well, does it not?”

He liked a playful, sated, Lily, and hoped to keep her in this state as often as possible.

“Aye, lass. I am yours, and happy to be so.”

She laughed, no, giggled. Probably at her bravery and the outcome. He kissed her shoulder and then her neck before reaching up to claim her lips.

“Are you not tired?” she asked.

“Very. But there is much of the night left and I will not waste a moment in sleep.”

“We will do it again?” she asked. From her tone, he thought she was hopeful for such a thing. Without the worry of her being sore, they were able to continue.

“I’ll need a few moments to recover, but yes. We can start again with kissing if you wish.”

“Oh, yes. I do enjoy kissing you, Your Grace.”

He’d been addressed as “Your Grace” since his father passed when he was ten and six, and in all those years, it had never made him shiver with such excitement as when his wife said it in a breathy, desperate voice. It seemed he wouldn’t need as long as expected to recover.