Page 23 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

E verything went blank once Gerald’s lips met hers. Her emotions, once quickly unraveling, suddenly began to coalesce into a tight, aching warmth that spread to the tips of her fingers, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

The feeling only intensified once Gerald grasped her hand, briefly breaking free from their kiss to lead her palm gently across his face. His beard was surprisingly soft, with a hint of coarse curl that reminded Aileen of the harsh battles he’d faced all his life.

“Breathe,” he ordered softly.

She did so, taking in his scent immediately as the forest in his eyes quieted her soul. It was sharp, comforting; a mix of wood shavings and the fresh feeling snow gave when it first fell to earth.

Her fingers worked gently through his beard, toward the nape of his neck—he really did have incredibly thick hair, curled from years of tight braids worn for combat. Aileen let her arms rest against his shoulders, leaned in just enough to, perhaps, encourage him to offer another kiss.

And another kiss he did offer, one that lingered far longer than the last. With his own hands freed, Gerald moved to explore Aileen’s face as well, gently caressing her cheeks as the callousness of his skin sent pleasant shivers throughout her body.

Then, he moved across her chin, down her neck, and past her breasts, lingering close to her hips before stopping himself.

“It’s all right,” Aileen assured, wanting nothing more than for him to hoist her upright there and then.

But even with her assurance, Gerald seemed to reconsider, opting instead to return up to her bodice, his fingers flexing experimentally against the pull of her strings.

A hot wave of shame washed over Aileen’s face, and she wondered briefly if, perhaps, her husband found her lack of a bosom disappointing.

Yet, Gerald only continued to play with the strings, loosening them ever so slightly with a curious frown.

“There’s really nothing to look at,” she began, only to gasp as she felt him tug the string loose, causing the bodice to release its firm hold against her. Her gaze met his—still curious, still intent on continuing—but his fingers lingered, waiting for her to consent.

Aileen offered a slight nod, but Gerald remained still. “If … if ye wish,” she began, feeling completely ridiculous as she stood before him. “But, it’s nay as impressive as others, I’m sure?—”

A startled gasp escaped her as Gerald let go of the fabric, her bodice dropping to the ground and leaving nothing but the thin silk of her gown between them.

The sudden rush of cold air prickled across her breasts, her nipples immediately perked and were visibly present against her dress.

And all the while, Gerald seemed to be admiring her, flat and undefined as her bosom truly was.

His hands experimentally rose along her ribcage, the material bunching against her skin as Aileen’s breath hitched.

Then, with no objections from her, Gerald offered another kiss as he began to caress her tenderly.

His fingers explored the rise of her nipples beneath the silk, a sensation that caused a numbing warmth to pool between her legs.

She felt her legs give out briefly, and Gerald only leaned in closer, pressing her body against his desk as his legs gently trapped her waist.

She could feel him between her legs, a stiffness against his trousers; that, coupled with his teasing fingers and insatiable taste for her skin, quickly sent her into a dizzying state of euphoria. There were so many points of contact, and Aileen felt herself ravenous for more.

“Gods, ye’re beautiful,” Gerald growled suddenly.

Her hands clutched the back of his shirt, her fingers digging into his flesh as he continued to work her, kiss her, and touch every part of her she’d felt shameful of.

The flatness of her chest suddenly meant very little to her as he continued to tease the perks of her breasts, as his cock continued to press against the innermost part of her legs she once found too thin, too weak to even hold her own frame.

Each kiss sent a new wave of pride across her body, a sense of femininity Aileen hadn’t experienced for herself in a long, long time.

And all of it melded into an indescribable heat within her core, a bubbling warmth she had only managed to ignite with her anger, her feelings of desperation, and indignation.

And it built to a feverish pitch as his lips traveled across the nape of her neck, down the exposed parts of her chest not covered by her silken dress.

The brush of his beard, the tingling of silk against her nipples, the stiffness of his being against the skin of her legs …

an unfamiliar moan tore itself free from Aileen’s chest, fueled by the growing pressure at that spot between her thighs.

She felt the heat rush across her and out through the tips of her fingers, her toes, leaving behind a pleasant trembling that wracked her entire being.

Gerald was quick to embrace her, carefully easing her off his desk and making his own frame the support she so desperately craved in that moment.

He then sank to the ground, cradling her against his chest as her legs splayed out in front of them, his own forming a barrier to hold her within his embrace. To the fluttering beat of his heart, Aileen simply took the moment in, vaguely aware of her husband’s hand stroking her hair.

After a few moments of simply being, an apology began to work its way into Aileen’s mouth. But before she could get it out properly, Gerald’s gaze tilted down to meet hers. “If ye go and try to apologize for yer appearance, I’ll send ye to yer room for a good, long think.”

A startled snort escaped Aileen instead, and she quickly sat up, covering her mouth as embarrassment raced across her face. “I … I’m nae a child!”

“Aye, but I sense ye’ve been told otherwise.” Gerald’s hand continued to run through her hair, and Aileen found herself being pulled back into his embrace once more. “Folk around ye never paid proper respect to yer womanhood, and it shows.”

Aileen’s legs curled upward, her arms beginning to hide her lack of chest once more. But Gerald’s hands found hers, intentionally keeping them in place to keep her bosom on display.

“There isnae a thing to be ashamed of. This body of yours is one forged from survival; ye refused to let the odds beat ye, and that is something to be admired for.” Gerald’s voice was stern, though Aileen could sense it came from a place of reassurance.

It was not a command, but a simple stating of the facts.

Her vulnerability—one she hadn’t even consciously registered until this moment—wasn’t being taken advantage of.

“And maybe one day …” Gerald’s sentence trailed off, and Aileen found her curiosity piqued.

She stared long and hard at his expression, trying to find any hint as to where he meant to take the conversation.

“And, maybe one day …” His body shifted, easily lifting Aileen to her feet as he took a step back. “Ye willane need me to tell ye that.”

Aileen blinked, suddenly feeling quite cold. She glanced around for her bodice, only for Gerald to suddenly drape her in his night coat. When he had crossed the room to fetch it for her, she couldn’t rightly say.

“Now, ye should be off,” Gerald instructed, hastily clearing his throat. “We daenae want Mollie to worry about the … noises ye made in here.”

Aileen’s face burned terribly, and she tightened her grasp around the night coat.

“Hopefully ye ken I willnae be sendin’ ye off so easily,” Gerald added. “And ye ken where ye stand within this keep.”

The euphoria of their unexpected intimacy began to fade from Aileen’s mind, and she blinked furiously, realizing she, in fact, still hadn’t the slightest clue where her relationship with Gerald stood.

“Ye’re an enigma, ye ken that? I still havenae gotten any closer to gettin’ an actual answer out of ye. ”

Gerald’s brow rose slightly. “Was that nae answer enough?”

A spark of irritation rose in Aileen’s voice.

“I … yer head’s full of mince, ye ken that?

How can ye be so willin’ to have a moment like that with me, but refuse to clarify what we are?

” She pulled his jacket tighter, huffing loudly.

“Well, fine! If ye daenae wish to be straight with me, I willnae make things easy, anymore!”

Gerald snorted with laughter, clearly bemused. “Aye? Is that so?”

“Aye, it is!” Aileen insisted. “I tried to explain meself to ye, but clearly, this is nothin’ but silly fun for ye. So, that’s the last time ye’ll be havin’ yer way with me, me Laird.”

He cocked his head toward her, and for a moment, Aileen wondered if he’d truly kiss her again. Desire clashed with her irritation, with the latter winning out as she ducked beneath him and started toward the door. “Fix yer lock, and this willnae ever happen again!”

Before she could properly reach it, Gerald rounded out from behind her and stood between her and the door, his hand pressing against it to keep it closed.

“Is that an order, sweet wife?” Gerald asked, his smirk a perfect match for the dangerous glint in his eye. Beast of Braeriach indeed; it was like staring into the face of a stalking wolf, one who had just cornered the prize he’d been hunting for days on end.

Aileen exhaled loudly, her lips tightly formed into a frown as her gaze remained steady.

“A suggestion, dear husband. As to nae cause any further mishaps between us.” Every part of her wanted to break down and run, but she stood firmly in place, postured in a way she was certain a more confident lady would have.

A long, terrible moment passed between them, but eventually, Gerald reached down for the door’s handle and tugged it open.

His eyes never left Aileen as she dutifully stepped out, and she refused to glance over her shoulder while she made her way to their room.

Much as she desperately wanted to.

As Gerald closed his study door, he found himself completely taken in by the mess. Papers and books still lay scattered across the floor, now with the addition of Aileen’s bodice crumpled beside his desk.

The buzzing thrill had finally quieted in his head, and the realization of what he’d just done with Aileen hit him with the weight of an axe against the trunk of a massive tree. Boundaries—where had all of his boundaries gone?

“Completely out the window, apparently.” Gerald scolded himself, bending down to try to clean some of the mess he’d made.

He hadn’t meant to be so intimate with her.

He hadn’t meant to be anything to her but a vague protector, yet the memories of Aileen bent over on his desk remained in Gerald’s mind.

Each stack of papers he made reminded him of her silken gown beneath his fingers, each book against his chest mimicking the weight of her body against his once it was all said and done.

There was more to her now, he realized; no longer was she the thin husk of a woman he’d found half-starved in Marcus’ study.

Her body had far more definition, even if she couldn’t see it herself.

But he had seen it—he had felt it with his own hands—and it burned him to think that others in her past had denied her pride in her womanhood.

The face he’d been carving … he could try to deny it all he wanted, but Gerald knew he’d long since been bending the terms of their arrangement.

Since the moment he met Aileen, that resolve to uphold it began to waver, and as he stared at her visage on the wood, he let out a far more gentle sigh.

“I didnae think this would be so hard, Ewan. I wish …”

He wished his brother was here, instead. Wished it was Ewan coming to him for relationship advice, wished he could be the one to poke and prod at him as his older brother struggled to maintain his visage of lairdship.

Gerald often pushed the thoughts aside when they resurfaced in his mind, but this time, he allowed what could have been to linger a bit longer. Imagining what could have been, if only Marcus hadn’t done what he did.

If only he had been stronger that day.