“Dinna speak as though I am not here. I am nay a child.” Sutherland squeezed water from a fold of his kilt and shook it out. Silt from the rooftop and bits of wood flew everywhere.
Jenny waved away his words and gave Sorcha a reassuring hug. “Consider it done, sister. And dinna fret. I’m certain our chief will question everyone in the keep. He’ll find the wicked fool who did this.” Gathering up her skirts, Jenny skittered and hopped around the melting drifts and muddy puddles. She rushed across the courtyard and into the keep.
“Come.” Sorcha pulled on Sutherland’s arm, praying he’d relent and follow her to their rooms. While the day was warmer than it had been, the relentless wind cutting across the grounds would push the chill of his soaked clothes clear to the center of his bones. The griminess from the roof matting his hair concerned her, as well. The gash on his head was well on its way to healing completely, but it still needed to be kept clean. “Please, Sutherland. Ye can meet with Da and plot yer revenge after ye’ve taken the time to ease yer wife’s worries, aye?”
Stance wide, eyes narrowed and scowling at every flickering shadow, Sutherland bared his teeth and rumbled out the low throated growl of a cornered animal. “I canna abide a coward who willna battle me face to face. I tire of this foolishness!”
“I know. I know,” she soothed, wishing she could find the words to calm him. She felt the same, never fearing a battle as long as she knew who or what she fought. “Somehow, we’ll find this black-hearted soul and oust them. I swear it.” With a firm pull on his arm, she turned him toward the outer kitchens. “Come. Let me tend ye, and then we’ll battle this together, aye?”
With another swipe at the blood dribbling down from his scraped brow, Sutherland gave a disgusted shake of his head. “I am fine, woman. I dinna need tending like a bairn with a scraped knee.”
“But I need to tend ye.” With an arm locked through his, she reached up, took hold of his chin, and forced him to look at her. “I know ye’re a braw, fierce warrior who fears nothing and doesna need coddling, but as yer wife, as the woman who cares about ye, it gives me solace to do so. Would ye deny me such a simple thing that pleases my heart?”
Sutherland stilled like a dog commanded to stay. He stared down at her for what felt like a long while. Finally, his scowl faded. With a squeeze of her arm, he gave her the hint of a smile, just enough to lift her hopes. “I doubt I could ever deny ye anything, my lovely, determined lady.”
“Good.” Sorcha tucked closer and nudged him forward. “Now come, we’ll cut through the kitchens to get ye out of this wind.”
“As ye will it, m’lady,” Sutherland agreed in a resigned tone, casting another look back over his shoulder. “Who is usually assigned with the cleaning of the rooftops?”
Scooping up additional clean linens and a crock of cook’s best soap from the large cupboard just inside the door, Sorcha paused as she thought back over the past few wintry months. “I canna recall any one individual being responsible for the chore. Just whichever lad Mrs. Breckenridge happens to pick.”
Sutherland remained quiet, apparently a prisoner to his thoughts. They took the back stairs to the second floor and entered their chambers as a pair of lads were dumping buckets of steaming water into a large copper tub placed in the center of the main bedchamber.
“Mrs. Breckenridge had us fetch the laundress’s water since it was already boiling for today’s wash. Said it was urgent we get the bath ready right quick.” One of the young men beamed with a proud smile as they headed for the door with their empty buckets. “Got it nearly filled already, m’lady. Just another round or two and the chore will be done.”
“Well done, Steenie, and thank ye.” Sorcha pushed the chamber door closed behind them but didn’t latch it since the boys would soon return with more water. Turning back to Sutherland, she held out her hand. “Give me yer kilt. I’ll drape it as best I can between the chairs so the fire can dry it.”
Without a word, he complied, which, she had to admit, surprised her. He’d been unusually quiet ever since the kitchen. She placed his damp leather belt on the floor in front of the hearth, then draped one end of the great plaid across the back of a chair. Carefully fluffing and spreading out the folds, she stretched the long woolen cloth across the space between the two chairs, securing it so it wouldn’t fall nor draw up as the warm air from the fire dried away the wetness.
“Jacket and waistcoat, sir.” She held out both hands, then nodded down at his boots. “And be ridding yerself of those muddy things. I’ll have one of the lads clean them for ye.”
Again, Sutherland complied without speaking.
A rap on the door alerted Sorcha the boys had returned with more water. “Ye may enter,” she called out as she hurried to her dressing table and retrieved a pleasant oil Aderyn had made from last summer’s flowery herbs. She added several drops to the water as Steenie and his companion added four large buckets of water, raising the level within the tub to the desired depth. The soothing scent of lavender, rosemary, and a hint of heather filled the room as a sheen of the oil spread across the ripping surface of the bath. A third lad, smaller than Steenie and his mate, hurried into the room, struggling under the weight of two more overfull buckets. “Want we should bring some more, m’lady?” the boy asked. “Mrs. Breckenridge says she’ll set the laundress to boiling more if need be.”
“Nay, Willie.” Sorcha tried not to smile at the boy’s heroic effort to keep up with the other two lads, even though they were twice his size. “This is plenty. Just leave those two beside the tub for rinsing. I thank ye all for such fine fast work. Tell Cook I said ye’re to have a reward for yer valiant efforts. Ale and fresh baked bread with as much butter and honey as ye wish.”
“Thank ye, m’lady,” the three sang out in unison, then scooted out a great deal faster than when they had entered.
Sorcha closed the door behind them then turned to find Sutherland wearing nothing but his lèine and a smile. His obviously improved mood pleased her. She hated seeing him so distraught—and the longer she had insisted on waiting to christen their marriage bed, the more easily his moodiness flared at anyone foolish enough to cross him. But they had been wise to wait. She felt sure of it. Old Aderyn was never wrong.
It wasn’t as though the waiting had been easy on her either. She pressed a hand to her throat, then fanned herself. The room suddenly seemed overly warm, and it was his fault. The sight of him stirred the memories of all he had done to tempt her. He’d been relentless with heated kisses and unabashed nakedness—flaunting all she could enjoy if she would only allow it. She pressed her thighs together, fighting the return of the hungry aching that had become a constant companion. Even now, the muscular lines of his legs and his hardened member shone proudly through his tunic.
“Into the tub with ye,” she said, irritated at the squeak in her voice. Sutherland’s intent stare, filled with determination and enough heat to warm the entire keep, made her feel all squirmy inside. She hurried to gather the crock of soap and a washrag. Her breath caught and held when she turned from the table to find her husband stripped-down naked as the day he was born.
He stood beside the tub, wide stance, broad chest flexed, and jaw set to a defiant tilt. “The only way this is going to happen, m’love, is if ye join me. Today is the day, Sorcha. Ye promised.”
Mouth gone dry and heart pounding, she forced a swallow to be able to speak. “Join ye?”
“Aye, my love,” he said in a rumbling tone that weakened her knees. “It is time, and ye know it as well as I.”
Time. Allowing her gaze to dip down past the rippling muscles of his torso, Sutherland’s meaning was as clear as a Highland stream. And heaven help her, he was so right. The breath-stealing mountain of a man seemed hale enough to sire the healthiest of babies. Dropping her gaze to the floor, she motioned toward the tub. “Why dinna ye get in the tub and be warming yerself whilst I undress, aye?”
“Trust me, mo ghràdh, I am warm aplenty.” He closed the di
stance between them in two broad strides. “Allow me to help ye with yer laces.” His voice was softer now, seductive and gentle as a loving caress.
It was well enough that he offered his help. Her hands trembled, and she doubted she could manage them even though the bodice she had chosen laced up the front and displayed her favorite embroidered stomacher. Before she could answer, he moved closer and ever so slowly began sliding the ties free.
She stared down at his hands, so tanned even though the dead of winter had barely passed. His long fingers mesmerized her, as did the rippling muscles of his forearms. Saints above, how was a woman able to manage breathing whenever her husband touched her?
He tossed aside the bodice, stomacher, and stays, then gently turned her to untie the waist of her skirts and petticoats. As they fell down around her feet, he pulled her into his arms. “I’m crazed with the need for ye, mo ghràdh, crazed beyond reason.” His strong hands cupped her buttocks as he opened her mouth with his, pouring all his fiery desire into the kiss. She held on tight to his shoulders, sharing her own raging need with abandon. Aye, the time had come. The time was now.
Just as she thought she’d surely collapse, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed.
“Yer bath grows cold,” she weakly argued as he rid her of her shoes and stockings. “Dinna ye wish to soak and be washed?”
“To hell with the bath,” he murmured as he smoothed his hands up her legs, pushing her chemise well above her waist.
She’d never had a man look at her in such a way. A gasp escaped her as bent and kissed a burning trail back and forth across her stomach, moving lower with each pass. As he kissed, he tickled his fingertips up her inner thighs, drawing ever closer to where no man had ever touched her before. She found it impossible to lie still beneath his touch. Instead, she arched and gyrated, wanting more, needing the blessed relief only he could give.
Eyes closed, hands knotted in the sheets at her sides, a cry escaped her as he took her with his mouth, then slid a finger inside her. What magical heaven was this? She bucked and arched beneath Sutherland’s expert ministrations. All thoughts of what might be proper and expected left her as she draped her legs over his shoulders and hugged him with her thighs. But still, she needed more, or she’d surely die. “Please,” she gasped as she filled her hands with his hair and pulled him closer, writhing as he teased her with his tongue.
“Please, what?” he asked as he lifted his head and smiled while keeping his fingers buried inside her. “Are ye ready, m’love?”
“Aye!” She didn’t know for what, but she was most certainly ready for relief.
He lowered his mouth to the swollen nub of her sex and sucked it, pumping his fingers in and out with a faster rhythm.
A bliss she had never known before exploded through her, forcing a victorious cry as she shuddered and groaned. The delicious spasms flowed across her again and again. Just when she thought she’d surely blackout from such unadulterated pleasure, the sweet waves of ecstasy abated. When they had nearly left her, a sudden burning rip caught her off guard and triggered a different cry.
“Shh, m’love,” Sutherland crooned as he settled down beside her and pulled her into his arms. “Now, it will be less hurtful when we join.”
“It wasna so verra bad,” she hurried to defend between gasping breaths and kisses. “It merely caught me by surprise.”
But it did make her wonder what came next, and if it would be pleasant or not. She’d stolen many a curious look at his manparts and wondered how in heaven’s name such a massive thing would ever fit inside her without splitting her in two. He’d said it would be less hurtful now. Did that mean it would pain her every time? She risked running her hand down in between them and brazenly grabbed hold of the object in question, wrapping her fingers around its thickness. So very hard, and yet the skin was so velvety soft. She dared a rubbing pull, more than a little proud when Sutherland groaned and bucked beneath her touch just as she had done beneath his. Giving him pleasure aroused her own need even more. He suckled her breasts and returned his wonderful fingers into her sex, making her pump him all the harder.
“I can bear no more,” he rasped as he rose above her, then settled down between her legs.
“Aye,” she gasped. “Nor can I.” She slid her legs around him, arching, waiting, needing.
He pushed into her ever so slowly, opening her with his hardness, a wonderfully satisfying fullness. “Relax, m’love, relax so I dinna hurt ye.” He treated her to gentling kisses as he shoved in a little deeper. “Ye’re so verra tight, m’love.” More kisses and deeper still, he maintained his frustrating slowness. Heaven help her, she needed him to move faster.
“Faster, love,” she panted, raking her hands up and down his sides. “I need ye to move faster. Ye’re killing me with yer carefulness.”
“As ye wish, m’love.” Sutherland drove in as deep as he could go, then pulled out and shoved back in. He rocked into her again and again with an ever-increasing rhythm.
Sorcha joined in the dance, giving herself to the delicious sensations she had never dreamed existed. As he pounded into her, her world exploded into blissful shards of pure raw pleasure.
Sutherland rumbled with a deep roar, then held fast. Shuddering with his arms locked around her. After a long span of thundering heartbeats, he relaxed on top of her, panting and gasping as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Yer mine, mo ghràdh. Never forget that ye’re mine forever.”
She smiled as he locked his arms around her to keep from crushing her. “As ye are mine, my precious love.”
He hoisted himself up and locked eyes with her. “I am going to tell ye something, something I have never told any woman ever before—and that ye must believe.”
“Aye,” she encouraged. “What is it ye would tell me, my husband?”
“I love ye.” The look on his face touched the very center of her heart. “I love ye so much it frightens me, ye ken?”
Tears welled free and a horde of emotions knotted in her throat, making it impossible to speak, so she nodded and softly touched his face. Swallowing hard to regain her composure, she managed a tremulous smile. “And I love ye as well. Love ye more than ye will ever know,” she whispered.
After moments more precious than she ever thought possible and several nuzzling kisses, Sutherland slid out of the bed, cradling her to his chest.
“What are ye doing?” she asked, intrigued and more than a little excited at such brazen behavior.
He treated her to a long, slow kiss. “It is time for our bath, m’lady.”
*
He emerged from the depths of sleep with Sorcha softly snoring on top of him. Her head was nestled in the center of his chest, and her delightful body sprawled down the length of him. The fullness of her breasts and softness of her belly hardened him immediately, reawakening the insatiable ache to return to her sweet warmth. His need for her was unquenchable. No amount of loving this precious woman would ever be enough.
As he smoothed a hand down her shoulders and rested it in the small of her back, she stirred slightly but didn’t awaken. That brought him a smile. She enjoyed the sleep of the well-loved and fully sated. Good. He had done well for his wife’s first pleasuring.
From the looks of the window, they had loved away the day and on into the night. Sutherland bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling at the memory of the wide-eyed chambermaid backing out of the room and quietly closing the door behind her. Sorcha hadn’t seen the girl who was probably coming to light the evening candles and stoke the fire. With her head at the foot of the bed and her legs wrapped around him as he held onto the bedposts and pounded into her, his lovely wife had been entirely too busy to notice anyone entering the room.
Sutherland swallowed hard. Damnation, he throbbed to take her again but felt guilty at even considering it. They had loved over and over for hours. His poor, formerly virginal, lass would probably be so sore she wouldn’t be able to walk. He ran his other hand
down her back and linked it with the other, lacing his fingers together as he pulled her tighter against him.
She stirred again, wiggling her legs between his with a soft sigh. As she smoothed her hands down his arms, she lifted her head and pressed a kiss to his chest. “My bed shall never be cold again as long as I have this lovely warmth to sleep on.”
“I should say I’m ashamed to have awakened ye,” he said as he filled his hands with her buttocks and squeezed. “But it would be a lie.”
“It never stops—my needing ye,” she murmured as she scooted up higher for a long, tender kiss. Breasts flattened against his chest, she straddled him, rocking and rubbing with every teasing flick of her tongue. “I never knew it would be this way.” She rose up and buried him inside her with a satisfied groan. She suddenly stopped moving, her head tilting as she looked down at him with worry knotting her brow. “Has it been like this with every woman ye’ve been with?”
Her innocent question stabbed him straight in the heart. Damn his wandering ways all the way to hell and back. If he hadn’t been such a thoughtless rogue, not treated women in such a callous way, she never would have thought to ask such a thing. He reached up and brushed her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “It has never been this way with anyone, ever.” He stroked her hair again, praying she would hear the truth and sincerity in his words. “I feel as though ye’re the missing part of my life I’ve been searching for all these years.” He took hold of her shoulders and gently rolled, settling on top of her while staying buried within. “I meant it when I said I had never told another woman I loved her.” With a soft brushing kiss across her mouth, he rocked into her. “I love ye, Sorcha.” He rocked in and out again. “And I’m crazed for ye as well.” A groan escaped him as she drew her legs up around him and squeezed. “And the wanting ye never leaves me. The need to touch ye. To taste ye. Join with ye and be one.”
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