“There's much I wish to learn about you, dearest,” he breathed. His gaze was so intense that she shivered. “But I have a life for that.”
“Me too,” Claudine whispered. She felt as if her heart would melt. They had their lives together. It all started from tonight.
“My Claudine,” he whispered into her hair as he embraced her again. “My love.” She felt him push her body back toward the bed.
* * *
Francis shivered as he lay beside Claudine on the bed. He looked down at her. Those generous curves made his loins ache with need. Her breasts were full and they pushed against the high neck of the gown, wanting to be freed. He reached down and stroked her body, wondering at the sweet softness of her. He could smell the scent of lavender from her gown and he wanted to bury his face in her, breathe in the mix of sweet and woman that was her scent.
“Claudine,” he whispered. He could barely believe she was here. On the bed. With him. It had been something he'd dreamed about.
“Francis.”
He lapped at her full, plump lips, feeling the contact fire his loins again. He had to take her soon or he was actually going to pass out with longing. However, he wanted to make this a wonderful night. It was about her. Spoiling her. Making her know what she meant to him. How he wanted her.
He reached down and stroked her soft, pale hair. Looked into her eyes. As he kissed her again, he reached round and unfastened the first button on the top of her dress. He heard her gasp and then he leaned forward, gently reaching round to the next. Then the next.
By the time her gown was opening at the neckline, he was actually shuddering. It felt as if he was unwrapping her and he was aching with need to reach the end. Yet, he wanted to tease himself. Taking it slowly was as pleasant for him as for her.
He reached the fifth button and undid it. Then he could wait no longer. As the gown loosened, he reached up and worked the neckline down, exposing a filmy under-dress over her breasts. They were full and high and he bent forward eagerly, burying his face in them.
She gasped and sighed and he breathed in her scent and felt like he was drowning in pleasure. He was impatient, then, unbuttoning the dress just far enough so that he could slide it off her body. Then he eased down the under-dress, pulling that off, too.
He looked down at her. He stared.
She was naked on the bed, her sweet curves unwrapped.
His gaze consumed her. He started at her pale neck, staring down toward her full, high breasts. Then he followed their curve down her pale belly and to the sweet parting of her gently rounded thighs. His eyes lingered there at the sweet cleft and he ached to part them, to feel himself fill her. However, not yet. Not yet. He had so much else he wanted to do before then.
He leaned down and sucked a breast. She let out a big sigh and he worked a little harder at the nipple, loving the warmth and point in his mouth. He licked it vigorously and then moved lower, kissing down her body.
When he reached the sweet parting of her thighs, he stared up at her. Her lips were parted, eyes shut. He smiled and gently parted them, testing her with a finger. She gasped.
“Oh! Francis.”
Those blue eyes regarded him wonderingly, but he saw no fear. He smiled up at her. He parted her thighs a little further and then leaned forward, licking her.
She cried out and the sounds she made encouraged him to greater efforts. He could feel her trembling and knew from experience that if he didn't stop soon he would make her reach her own limit. He sat up quickly and undressed with lightning speed.
* * *
Claudine watched Francis undress through eyes half-closed with sleepy wonderment. She watched how he rolled those big shoulders, muscles rippling in the light. She stared. She had never seen a man unclad before. He was beautiful. It surprised her.
The troubadours don't mention that.
They tended not to say that men were beautiful. Yet this one was. With those rippling muscles, that broad chest, the slim waist, she was sure she'd never seen anything that delighted her so. She watched him, her whole body tingling and throbbing from the ways he'd touched her, and smiled at him.
“Claudine,” he murmured. He parted her thighs gently and she let him do so, surprised when he came to kneel between them. She trusted him – so far he had not hurt her, only made her feel indescribably good. “May I?”
Claudine frowned, then, with a rush, she understood. She knew now what the explanations had vaguely hinted at – she had heard about this once, from a nursemaid, long ago, and then later from a maidservant chatting to another. She hadn't imagined this.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Oh, yes.”
Francis smiled and touched her again, then gently made some motion with his hand, guiding himself into her.
Breath stopped. Heartbeat stopped. The world, in that instant, seemed to stop. It all melted away in bliss. There was some pain, but it was fleeting, and then the bliss returned.
“Oh!” she gasped.
Then he was moving inside her. She caught her breath, feeling the feelings work through her and into her and flood her as he did so, and soon they were unbearable. She felt as if she was melting, soaring, shaking...
She cried out in wonder as the sensation rose to a pitch that was almost pain it was so pleasant, and then crescendo was replaced with a tender, floating peace.
She heard him cry out a second or two later and then he collapsed onto her.
She sighed and felt her arms wrap him, holding him close.
They woke later in the night and did it all again, more slowly, more tenderly. She knew what to expect now and her own eagerness surprised her and delighted him. They dozed and then they did it again.
It was gray in the room, the new day flowing into the chamber, before they finally found rest.
EPILOGUE
“My dear, are you sure?”
Claudine smiled. The concerned voice of Francis broke through her drowsy somnolence. “Mm?” she asked, then, realizing what he meant, she agreed. “Yes. Indeed yes.”
Francis rolled over. They were laying side by side in their bed, at Annecy, his home. The fire burned low in the grate, making auburn hair bright. Claudine rolled over and looked into his eyes lovingly. She still sometimes just couldn't stop herself staring with pleasure. .
“But Claudine, it's not a name your family would like...It's a Scots name.” he protested.
She interrupted him, smiling.
“You know that father would be pleased. He has already said we are free to choose whatever we wish as a name for our son.”
“I know,” Francis said. “But as it is, you are already so accepting of my...differences...and...”
She laughed. “Francis! How many times do I need to say it to convince you? I love your differences, as you put it. You silly dearest.”
She kissed his cheek and he snuggled closer, kissing her face.
“Well, very well,” he said. “But you must let me insist that we wait before we travel to Scotland. A year.”
“A year! Oh, Francis.” Claudine sat up, gazing down tenderly. “I'm not ailing now.”
“I know. I've never seen a woman healthier,” he agreed with a grin. “But you should rest after the birth. Everyone says that.”
Claudine sighed. “I know. And I know you treat me so gently that I'm sure sometimes you think I'm Venetian glass.”
Francis chuckled. “You are more precious than that. Than anything. You are closer than my own heart.”
Claudine sighed fondly. “You say such beautiful things, dear.”
“I mean them,” Francis said firmly. “Like I mean I'll brook nothing harming you.”
Claudine smiled fondly. She lay down again, cuddling closer to his muscled warmth. “Well, if you insist.”
“I do.”
“Well, then, you must let me insist, too. Our son will be Conn. Or Duncan, for your grandfather. Whichever you choose.”
“Claudine...you're wonderful.”
She chuckl
ed. “There's no being wonderful about it. I like the names. Your family has beautiful names. Wild sounding and different. I imagine Scotland to be like those names. I would go there, experience it...see if I'm right.”
Francis laughed. “You are right. Not that I've been there myself, mind. But Father says it's wild and different.” he chuckled fondly. He kissed her hair. “But are you sure..?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “I believe you.”
“Yes.”
He laughed.
They lay there side by side in the bed. Claudine felt as if her heart had melted. She was so full of love. She still felt amazement at how full her life was.
Here I am, with a handsome husband who loves me and his child within me. And my health and a loving household.
It was all the stuff of her happiest fantasies and now it was really here.
“Claudine?” Francis whispered, drawing her close to his body as he kissed her in a way that made longing flare again.
“Yes, dearest?”
“If we...what if she's a girl?” he persisted. “Could we...could we name her Claudine? After you?”
Claudine blushed and giggled. “Oh, Francis. You're so sweet. But I was thinking we could name her for your mother, mayhap.”
“Or yours,” Francis said softly. “Or yours.”
Claudine felt a lump in her throat. She tried not to think about the Lady Nicola, her mother. It was a strangely blank spot in her mind. It had been like that since hearing of her death when she was four years old, barely able to comprehend it.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Let us call her Nicola.”
“Nicola it is,” Francis agreed.
“Nicola Bernadette.”
“Perfect,” Francis said again. “We could add “Leona” to that, too. It's a French name already.”
Claudine nodded. His mother's name was Leona, she had come to learn.
“Yes. Nicola Bernadette Leona it is.”
Francis nodded, and then chuckled. “Well! Our babe will wish to be a daughter, I think. We have so many lovely names for her, and just two for our son.” “Yes. But he gets Scottish names. And they're better.”
Francis sat up and stared at her in some surprise. “You dear woman! You think so?”
“I know so,” Claudine said. “Thin:I grew up with French names. I never even heard the names Conn and Duncan before I met you. They're interesting.” She leaned over, kissed him, and felt her own belly tingle with excitement. “Like you.”
Francis chuckled. “Well, French names are beautiful. Like you.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him and Claudine had to bite her lip to resist the thrilling, pulsing tide of longing that was starting to rise inside her and flow through her and make her sigh.
“We will go to Scotland as soon after the birth as you are ready,” Francis promised.
“Thank you, dearest,” she said.
“Well, then,” he said, rolling her over and leaning down to plant a kiss on her lips, his hand already stroking her shoulder in a way that rendered her weak. “I look forward to taking our son – or daughter – to see her distant kinsfolk.”
“And I, too, look forward to that,” Claudine murmured. Francis was stroking a finger down her chest in a way that made her shiver with wanting. “But first, I look forward to the birth.”
“Indeed,” Francis nodded, smiling. “So do I. My beautiful, beautiful woman! I look forward to every second of my life with you, you know that?”
Claudine closed her eyes, feeling tears form there. “I look forward to that too, with you.”
She had never thought such happiness could exist. They kissed. Her heart was filled with joy.
COURAGE OF A HIGHLANDER
LAIRDS OF DUNKELD SERIES
A MEDIEVAL SCOTTISH ROMANCE STORY
BOOK 10 (Final Book In The Series)
* * *
by
EMILIA FERGUSON
Book Description
Daughter of a duke, son of a baron, and a ruthless English knight…
Lady Rubina Invermore has a luxury that not many girls enjoy in the Highlands, the opportunity to marry based on love instead of negotiation. However, she feels duty-bound to choose a marriage that will please her parents: one that will further their holdings and security in the face of a looming and bloody with England. Now her heart has betrayed her…and she’s in a bind.
A Brave Highlander
Sir Camden Invering is more confused than he’s ever felt after rescuing the beautiful Lady Rubina from her English captors. His heart is totally enraptured, and he thought that she felt the same. But her cold indifference has utterly confounded him. He begins to wonder if he’s totally misread her. When he is taken captive himself in retaliation for rescuing the damsel in distress, his fight is not for her love, but for his very life…
A Love That Can’t be Stopped
Soon Rubina must make the most challenging decision of her young life—she must choose between love and duty. Duty and romance beckon to her from different men…and the decision is solely hers. However, her handsome knight must once again be brave and survive the conflict that threatens to take the decision from them both…permanently.
Should Lady Rubina choose the marriage she’s always anticipated—her distant cousin Callum, who she does not love but her parents will approve without question?
Or should she follow her heart—her beloved Sir Camden, who both infuriates and ignites her in ways she never dreamed a man could achieve…and in the most delicious ways…?
PROLOGUE
“No, Daughter!”
Lady Amabel's laugh was a gentle thing, only a little mocking. All the same, Rubina frowned at her in innocent confusion, full red lips making a moue of confusion.
“Mama? What's so funny?”
At twenty, she felt grown-up enough to resent her mother making fun of her. She ran a hand through her own shiny auburn curls, moving them from her eye, obscured in the sweet and stubborn mass.
Her mother smiled. “I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to laugh. I was just...surprised.”
“Well, I was being sensible, Mama.”
Amabel grinned. “Well, mayhap too sensible, lass. I wasn't as sensible when I was your age.”
Rubina smiled fondly. It was impossible to think of age when she looked on that beauty – with a sculpted face, big blue eyes and that raven hair just threaded with sparkling white. However, in truth, Mama must have been Rubina's age two and twenty years before. Lady of Lochlann, she was dressed in a long blue velvet dress whose richness and simplicity matched her.
“Mama,” she said carefully, “I am the heiress of Lochlann and Buccleigh – if I married Cousin Callum, it'd be one way to keep the estates under the family hand. So I am sensible, saying it.”
Amabel smiled. “But, dear, do you love Callum?”
Rubina was surprised by the question. “Well, of course I do. He is my cousin, after all. And I've known him since I was a child, so...” she trailed off. Her mother was laughing again.
“I don't mean like a cousin, dearest.”
Rubina frowned. She was sixteen, and she knew she ought to know about...well...about those things. However, she had been raised at Lochlann more or less alone, save for the cheery presence of her cousins twice a year, and Blaire, her maid. She had almost no dealings with men. Of course there were the sons of neighbors who visited on hunting trips, but they were, well, them. The Camberwells and the Ives and the Braes – family friends. Their sons were what she imagined brothers to be.
Lady Amabel smiled. “Well, my dear, it's the ball tonight, and perhaps you will find someone who makes you know what it is I mean about feeling differently.”
Rubina frowned. “But I know everyone who'll be at the ball already, Mama. Henry Brae, Connell Ives, and Brod and Lennox Camberwell...how can I?”
Amabel smiled. “We did invite some new folk. After all, this is your ball. For your eighteenth birthday.”
/> “Yes, Mama.”
Somehow, despite the fact that it was her night, she couldn't find it in herself to be excited at the prospect of new people. What was wrong with the old ones? Henry, Lennox, her maidservant, her cousins...
Amabel grinned. “You know, Rubina, you have a big heart. It's one of the reasons why I simply won't agree to an arranged marriage. No, the choice is yours. As was mine.”
Rubina stared at her. This was news. She knew the story of her parents and how they'd chosen each other. How would she ever make such a choice though? This was the first her mother had mentioned of this.
It was highly unconventional: young ladies of her breeding would never have been called on to make a choice themselves. She had always just assumed she'd be married off to Callum or one of her other cousins.
“Thank you, Mama,” she said slowly. “But how..?”
Amabel smiled. “Trust me, my dear. When you meet him, you'll know. Nothing will be able to make you make another choice.”
Rubina frowned. It sounded a bit unlikely. In her world, love was an all-permeating thing, but a simple one. Rubina loved everyone and most people loved her too. Would it really be as dramatic as her mother suggested?
“Yes, Mama,” she said again. “And I hope I will choose wisely too.”
Amabel laughed. “Well, I did. Though on paper he was not what my parents would have chosen. A knight, from humbler means than myself. But the heart knows best.”
“Yes.” Rubina nodded.
Being sixteen would, it seemed, be a time to find out many things. Though she was fairly sure the kind of love her mother mentioned wasn't one. No, for all that she had seen it in her life, she was sure it wasn't going to happen to her. It just seemed too scary. Too big. Too much for such a simple sort as her.
Adventures of a Highlander Page 59
