Page 15 of The Unencumbered Warrior (Highland Wishes Trilogy #1)

R aff had set her on her feet and stepped aside to disrobe.

Ingrid turned to keep her back to him while she did the same, leaving on only her sleeveless underdress.

She fortified herself with a deep breath, prepared to turn, but hesitated.

Though eager to couple, she was also apprehensive.

While some women were ignorant of what went on between a husband and wife in bed, she wasn’t.

Her mother made sure of it, detailing the act precisely, so—as she claimed—her daughters would not be shocked when her husband’s shaft entered them.

However, the shock of their mother’s description had the three of them thinking it was nothing but a tale she told them to keep their distance from men.

After coming upon some of the animals mating, she realized it hadn’t been a tale.

But now that she faced the prospect of experiencing it herself, she was a bit anxious.

She jumped when Raff’s hands settled on her shoulders and tingles shot through her when his lips nibbled along her neck.

“It comes naturally,” he whispered near her ear as if he understood her hesitance and gently turned her to face him.

He was completely naked. She’d never seen a man that way and she doubted many men looked as appealing as her husband. He was lean with natural muscle tone that covered all of him. He had a few old scars here and there and she touched one on his chest, gently tracing it.

A question settled in her eyes.

“A tale for another time,” he said and let her hand continue to explore him.

There was an intimacy about touching him, feeling his muscles ripple beneath her hand, his warmth tickled her fingertips, and his strength settled around her like a comforting hug.

She traced around his nipples, down along his mid-section and her eyes widened when she saw his shaft protruding from the nest of hair where it usually rested.

She didn’t seek permission. She slipped her hand around it and smiled softly at its hard yet silky feel. She stroked it, then as if realizing what she was doing, her eyes shot up to meet his eyes.

“You are my wife and can touch me wherever and whenever you wish.”

She heard the tautness in his voice and spotted the heat in his eyes and understood that he fought to control his passion.

“I do like touching you?—”

“And I love you touching me, but it is only fair I get to do the same to you.”

Her hand fell off his shaft as he took hold of her underdress and swiftly pulled it up and off her, tossing it carelessly aside.

She gasped when he lifted her naked and laid her down on the bed, then stretched out on his side next to her. Then his hand began to roam her much more thoroughly than she had done to him.

“You are beautiful, wife,” he whispered and kissed one nipple, then the other.

She tucked her hand with the two fused fingers beneath her, not chancing that he would look upon it and ruin this moment.

He took hold of her wrist, pulling her hand out from beneath her and kissed her fingers, each one of them.

“When I say you are beautiful, I mean all of you. And I will always defend you against anyone who says otherwise just because two of your fingers never separated. There is not one of us who is born the same, Ingrid. We are all different some way or another, and some more so than others. I love you. All of you. And I always will.”

Her eyes grew misty. “I am so happy you are my husband.”

He winked at her. “I’m about to make you even happier.”

She smiled and it was soon replaced with soft groans of pleasure as his lips roamed over her with kisses while his hand roamed as well. Her mother had claimed the act was a pleasurable one, if a woman was lucky enough to find the right man.

She was lucky—extremely lucky.

Her own hands reached out, needing, aching to touch him as she did before only more so now. She was soon lost in a haze of pleasure as their hands roamed, kisses were sought, lingering ones, then hard and fast ones.

When his fingers slipped inside her, she gasped. It shocked her but felt so good and she was eager to feel his shaft slip inside her.

“Please, Raff, I can’t wait any longer,” she said.

He kissed her cheek. “I am glad to hear that, since I can’t either.” He positioned himself over her, nudging her legs further apart and entered her slowly.

She raised her hips, eager for him to go deeper.

“Hold tight to me,” he said.

She gripped his arms and threw her hips up just as he slipped further in, driving him deep inside her.

She gasped loudly at the sting she felt but the pleasure overtook any discomfort.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked concerned.

“Nay. Nay,” she groaned.

He grinned and whispered, “Tame your moans or the whole village will hear you.”

She gasped again, then shut her mouth tightly.

“Hold on,” he said, and they soon were both lost in a world of pleasure.

She kept her moans trapped away when she wanted nothing more than to scream out with passion. She had no choice but to open her mouth, needing more breath, and she panted softly as her pleasure mounted.

Raff watched her, seeing the pleasure on her face increased his own.

After a few moments, she managed to say, “I—I—I?—”

Raff saw she was about to climax, and he rushed his mouth to cover hers and captured her scream as she burst with satisfaction. He followed soon after, throwing his head back and stifling his own roar.

They lay side by side bathing in the afterglow of their lovemaking, their hands clasped, their breathing beginning to calm and their heated bodies beginning to cool.

“That was amazing,” Ingrid said.

“Aye, it was,” he agreed, squeezing her hand lightly.

“I am glad we handfasted and didn’t wait. And I think it would be better for everyone to know we are wed.”

He turned on his side. “Why is that?”

Ingrid turned toward him as well. “I want us to be together, share our meals together, sleep together, like any husband and wife does. I want all the time I can get with you.”

“What about your mum?”

“I will deal with her when the time comes. Besides, we can appease her by holding a ceremony during the harvest festival.”

“I am glad and relieved that you feel that way, since I don’t know how I would have kept myself away from you. You are home to me, the place I feel safe and loved.”

“Then tomorrow we will tell everyone, and you will move your things—home.”

“I can’t wait,” he said and took her in his arms, a chill running over them both.

Ingrid sprang up in bed and looked around as if she expected to see someone.

Raff sat up as well. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you feel that chilled breeze that swept around us?” she asked.

He nodded. “A draft.”

“That was too strong for a draft.”

Raff grabbed the blanket to pull over them as he fell back on the bed taking Ingrid with him. “It matters not. We can keep each other warm.”

They settled comfortably in each other’s arms and Ingrid was soon asleep, not so Raff.

He worried the chilled breeze had something to do with the witch who had granted his wish.

Was she letting him know she was not pleased with his marriage?

Did she intend to do harm to Ingrid? He would see her dead before she did that.

The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to kill a witch, so she stayed dead.

Ingrid was dressed and already busy fixing the morning meal while Raff was adjusting his plaid.

“I’m pleased you don’t mind a quick morning coupling,” he said with a teasing smile.

She blushed. She couldn’t help it. “Like I left you a choice.”

He went to her, stepping behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pressing his cheek to hers. “I wanted you as much as you wanted me.”

He kissed her cheek as a knock sounded at the door, and it flew open before anyone bid the person to enter.

Edith rushed in. “Do you—” She froze seeing Raff hugging Ingrid.

“We handfasted last night,” Ingrid was quick to explain.

“Well, it’s about time,” Edith said with a huge smile. “I am so happy for you both. The others must be told.” She turned and hurried off before Ingrid could stop her.

“We best go see to this or we won’t get the morning meal to ourselves with people dropping by to see if the news is true, or a tale Edith spreads,” Raff said with a chuckle and finished dressing.

The morning was overcast and the crisp air a bit windy, sending the canopy of bare tree branches tapping at the thatched rooftops and swirling debris across the harvested fields.

Raff and Ingrid walked hand in hand toward the center of the village where most of the people could be found. A cheer rang out as they approached, Edith having spread the word fast.

Agnes clapped her hands. “About time!”

Raff grinned, slipping an arm around Ingrid’s shoulders. “We wed yesterday, in her cottage. A proper handfasting, witnessed by the hearth’s fire.”

Ingrid’s cheeks flushed as more cheers followed. An elderly woman wiped her eyes and muttered something about good signs for the winter. Children danced around them. Even the goats seemed more agreeable.

“We’ll do it again at the festival,” Raff added. “So, all can bear witness. There’ll be ale and song to enjoy.”

“And not a man among us left sober,” Latham called out.

Laughter echoed and everyone took their turn congratulating the couple.

But then the mood shifted when a sudden pounding of hooves broke through the celebration. Laird Chafton’s warriors approached, and all cheerfulness faded. They rode in, six of them, dressed for battle, their eyes sweeping over the gathered villagers like they expected resistance.

The largest warrior dismounted, dark eyes scanning the crowd.

“By order of Laird Chafton,” he barked, “the search for the witch continues. As he warned, someone better speak up. Look for a witch’s mark on her, a sign upon her body, something unnatural, something rarely seen.”

A hush fell so deep not even the birds dared sing.

“If such a person lives among you,” he went on, “you are commanded to speak. The next time we come, it will be to collect the witch. Anyone hiding her will be judged the same—by fire.”

No one spoke. No one pointed. But Raff felt it, the invisible ripple of glances not cast, the careful stillness. His hand tightened around Ingrid’s.

He could feel the blood drain from her fingers. She tried to tuck her left hand deeper beneath her cloak, as she always had.

She had lived on guard with her difference all her life—the joined ring finger and pinky, the strange birthmark of bone and skin—but never had it been called what it now threatened to become.

A mark of death.

The warriors turned and rode out, leaving silence in their wake. The joy of the morning curdled in the air.

Raff watched the villagers begin to disperse, slow and silent. No one had said a word. Not yet. But he saw the worry forming in their eyes. And he knew, if things turned darker, silence wouldn’t last forever.

Edith and Agnes even looked Ingrid’s way with concern, realizing what he had. Fear would turn one of the villagers into a trader.

Raff nor Ingrid spoke until they were back at her cottage.

Raff shut the door behind them and leaned against it, arms folded, as if to prevent the world from entering.

Ingrid stood in the center of the room, her cloak still on, her left hand hidden beneath its folds. “They’ll demand someone when they return, and fear will force someone to speak.”

Raff crossed to her. “They’ll have to go through me first.”

She looked up, her eyes brave but shadowed. “I will not see you harmed because of me.”

He reached for her concealed hand and gently drew it forward, his thumb brushing the curve of the fused fingers.

“I will let no one take you from me.”

“You cannot win against six warriors,” she said sadly, her eyes shimmering as she stepped into his arms, resting her head against his chest.

He held her close, letting the stillness speak what words could not.

But over her shoulder, Raff’s gaze found the window and the forest beyond it.

If the witch who cursed him still lingered in the shadows, he would find her.

And if the curse had chosen Ingrid as its price…

then he would do what he must to break it.

Even if it meant calling the darkness to him once more.