Brides of the North

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Kicking open the door of their shelter, he was barely cognizant when Gaithlin called breathlessly to Malcolm, diverting the lad’s attention with chores and instructions while the adults were left to their pleasure. Setting her to their pallet in a heat of passion, he wedged the ancient door closed before returning to Gaithlin with an expression she had seen many a time before. Only this time, it was far more potent.

  His red-swollen mouth worked as if he was attempting to speak, somehow offering the summation of his emotions. But he couldn’t seem to form the correct thoughts regarding the most monumental event of his life and without further ado, he moved across the brittle rushes and pulled Gaithlin against his chest with more tenderness than he ever knew to exist.

  Fastened to his wonderful lips, Gaithlin moaned softly as his hands moved to the stays of her gown, removing it from her supple body with deft experience. She was so consumed with the delight of his heated mouth that she was unaware when his hands left her, removing his tunic with such blind eagerness that he tore a seam. The boots and breeches immediately followed and before Gaithlin realized the extent of their naked state, she was on her back and completely covered by his massive body.

  Christian thought he might ease her natural apprehension with a few well-chosen words at this point; in fact, he had been practicing such words for precisely this event. But as the actual moment happed upon him, he was so selfishly involved in the feel of their naked flesh that the only sound capable of coming forth from his throat was an animalistic rumble.

  There was nothing that mumbled words could convey better than his tender touch was capable of expressing. His hands roved and caressed, probed and stroked, as Gaithlin writhed beneath him with her usual abandon, as if she had experienced his desire a thousand times before. Christian devoured every movement beneath him, savoring the motion, knowing that never in his life had he sampled anything so incredibly wondrous.

  His mouth found her beautiful breasts, lapping and suckling the tender fruits with the greatest of pleasure. He could feel Gaithlin’s fingers in his hair, urging him onward, demanding his attention, and he was so consumed with his own erotic lust that his hands were literally shaking as he explored every inch of her mouth-watering flesh.

  Gaithlin’s mind was focused on one thing; the only matter of concern was Christian’s gentle, powerful hands as they possessively kneaded her breasts and the anticipation of the erotic delights his mouth had yet to introduce. Unafraid of his lustful onslaught as a proper virgin should have been, it was not within her nature to fear; instead, she was inherently moved to the brink of expectation as his wicked attentions continued towards untapped depths.

  Yet in spite of her eagerness to experience his passion, she bolted when his fingers gently probed the blond triangle of curls between her legs. Passion somewhat damped by apprehension, her eyes fluttered open to find Christian wedged between her open thighs, breathing heavily as he gazed lustily upon her most private core.

  “Christian…,” she licked her dry lips, struggling to form a complete sentence capable of relaying her natural concern.

  He tore his eyes away from her delightfully pulsating blossom, meeting her cat-shaped eyes. “Trust me, honey,” he rasped, running his hands the length of her torso until he came to her breasts. Fondling gently, he relished in her sighs of pleasure. “You must trust me. I have dreamed of this longer than you can know and I promise I shall be entirely gentle with you.”

  She shuddered violently when his fingers pinched her taut nipples and her eyes closed once more, her apprehension fading in lieu of the erotic anticipation. “How… how long?”

  Satisfied that she had relaxed once more, his hands left her breasts and moved to grasp her buttocks. “A long, long time. Months.”

  “Months?” her voice was barely a whisper. “We have only known each other a few days.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, smiling at the crystal-clear recollection of his nude water nymph on that searing August day. “I have dreamed of you every day since the first I saw you, wet and nude and uninhibited.”

  In spite of her lust-induced haze, Gaithlin managed to grasp the confusing gist of his words. “I… I wasn’t nude when you first saw me, Christian. True, I was wet, but… oh!”

  Her back arched up from the rushes as his tenderly probing fingers found her swollen bud of passion. He laughed softly as her legs quaked involuntarily to his gently erotic touch. “Aye, honey, you were nude.” He bent low, depositing a line of sweet kisses just above the border of kinky curls. “You were swimming in a lake. And I watched you through the shield of the forest, dreaming of the moment when I would be free to touch you as I am now.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, her eyes opened once more and she raised her head, gazing at him with suspicion and lust-hazed confusion. “You… you saw me swimming in a lake? When?”

  He grinned, kissing her groin once more as his fingers raked her dark-blond mat. “Well over a month ago. A lake in the disputed territories that you frequented regularly.”

  She stared at him, the flush of passion abruptly transforming into a mottle of embarrassment and anger. Suddenly, she propped herself up on her elbows and attempted to slide away from him, struggling to close her thighs. Gripping her legs tightly, Christian was not surprised with her outraged reaction; in fact, he had expected it.

  “You will tell me why you were spying on me, Christian St. John!” she demanded. “And why did you not tell me this before?”

  He held onto her knees tightly, wrestling with her strong legs as she struggled to pull free. “Truthfully, because I never saw the need to tell you. It didn’t seem to be a staunchly pressing matter.” When she drove her heel into his rock-hard thigh, he grunted with mounting irritation. “Gae, I didn’t even know who you were at the time. Quinton found you weeks before while on patrol and….”

  “Quinton?” she shrieked. “Who is this Quinton? Kelvin mentioned him as well!”

  “My brother,” Christian grunted again when she inadvertently kneed him in the ribs. “My younger, more foolish brother who was as enchanted by your magnificent beauty as I was.”

  She succeeded in yanking one leg free and twisted to her side. Christian released his hold on her remaining leg and threw himself forward, trapping her between his massive body and the wool of their pallet. Gazing at the profile of her flushed, furious, beautiful face, he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at her indignity. In spite of her justifiable anger, he refused to allow her violent mood to spoil his own pleasure; dipping his head, he began to rain gentle kisses upon her neck and shoulder.

  “Don’t do that,” she insisted hotly, squirming beneath him in an attempt to dislodge his massive weight. “You will not be forgiven so easily for this… this embarrassment. Tell me; why did you not think it a staunchly pressing matter to mention that you had spied on me?”

  “I didn’t spy. I observed your water ballet with the greatest delight and respect,” he grinned maliciously as his lips delicately brushed her silken neck. “ ’Twas Quinton who spied.”

  She grunted angry, terribly distracted from her fury by his tender kisses. “So your brother saw me naked as well? Merciful Heavens, I have never been so mortified in my entire life! How can you not see the severity of this terrible situation?”

  He cocked an amused eyebrow, his lips dancing over the crest of her shoulder. “Because the situation is not at all severe. You were swimming in a lake within compromised lands and my brother happened across you while on patrol. Being a normal, lusty male, he was naturally enchanted by your presence and chose not to announce himself lest you become frightened or, coming to know you as I have, most likely violent. You could have very well injured my little brother in your anger.”

  She didn’t reply as she pondered his reasonable explanation, her jaw ticking in frustration and humiliation. He continued to grin at her, his mouth moving to her earlobe. Christian knew her anger was abating when he saw her eyes flutter closed as he suckled the tender
morsel of flesh.

  “Don’t be angry, Gae,” he murmured. “There is no need. I knew from the moment I first saw you frolicking about in the pond that I would have you.”

  Miffed but rapidly succumbing to his attentions, she found she could no longer maintain her shame. If Christian was not slighted by his brother’s knowledge of his future wife’s deliciously naked body, then she reasoned her insult was hardly worth the effort.

  Truthfully, there wasn’t any point in maintaining the furious shame. What did it matter that Quinton St. John had seen her naked; being a normal male, as Christian had so eloquently described him, surely he had seen a naked woman before. Clearly, she wasn’t a sight out of the norm. Furthermore, what did it matter that Christian had also seen her nude and exposed, her flesh displayed for all to see? He was seeing her naked now.

  When his tongue began to stroke the curve of her dainty ear, her humiliation and fury evaporated like a puff of smoke. Grinning with the thrill of his erotic touch, she forgot all else in favor of his magnificent attentions.

  “And how did you know that?” she asked softly, turning onto her back and gazing into his beautiful face. “You said yourself that you did not know who I was.”

  “Mayhap I didn’t know factually, but I had a reasonable suspicion.”

  Her arms wound themselves around his thick neck and she matched his knowing grin, devouring the delicious lines of his angular features. “You suspected that I was a de Gare?”

  His massive arms embraced her lanky, slender body, feeling the silken texture of her skin against his flesh. “It was logical.”

  She rubbed her nose against his affectionately, her smile broadening. “Then if you suspected my heritage, why did you not kill me immediately?”

  He continued to gaze at her, wedging his thick legs between her thighs to ease his body weight off her torso. Rubbing his nose against hers as she had done to him, more gently on his second brush, his mouth hovered tauntingly above her fully ripe lips. “Because if I had, I would have never known the pleasure of loving you.”

  His lips descended upon her mouth before she could reply, suckling the breath and life and blood from her very bones. Gaithlin, her mind still swimming with the impact of his softly uttered confession, moaned low in her throat as she responded wildly to his passion. The further he kissed and stroked and caressed, the hotter she became.

  I would have never known the pleasure of loving you.

  Christian could not believe he had admitted the emotions of his heart. But he had confessed nonetheless, and he was not at all astonished to discover that he did not regret his words. In fact, he found himself wondering why he had not admitted it before this moment. Caught up in the heated strains of a most emotional circumstance, it had been the natural thing to do.

  As natural as making love to her. As his emotional demands matched the physical needs of his voracious body, he gripped Gaithlin behind her long thighs and pulled her knees up, winding her supple legs about his hips. Breaking away from her delicious mouth, he gazed down at his heavy manhood as it pressed gently against her tender core, watching with the greatest of excitement as their bodies prepared to join.

  Pleasure and excitement for the both of them. Gaithlin’s fingers were anchored deeply into his hair, feeling the newness of his throbbing member as it sought her sensitive center. Christian’s head blocked her view of the erotic spectacle about to occur, but through her panting and maddening desire she could feel his fingers as they alternately stroked her delicate folds and guided his manhood nearer to its target.

  Once brought to bear, he seemed to slip into her virginal passage with amazing ease. They both groaned with pleasure and surprise as he barely anchored himself an inch, but it was an inch nonetheless. A very effortless inch, as she was literally dripping with excitement and moisture from his expert attentions.

  Christian could hardly contain himself, but restrain he did; a painfully difficult employment of his years of training in the art of self-control. Feeling the tiny muscles contract around the ruby-red tip of his phallus was the greatest torture he had ever known and he growled low in his throat, straining fervently against the natural urge to drive into her. The pain, the pressure, the unbelievable ecstasy was more than he could have possibly comprehended.

  It was an overwhelmingly supreme effort to move slowly, withdrawing himself and then pressing into her again, gaining headway in minute quantities. He would have been doing quite well with his controlled efforts had Gaithlin not writhed and panted beneath him, fracturing his concentration and threatening to cast him off the edge into the erotic abyss.

  But he maintained his composure, groaning softly with every new millimeter gained, feeling her incredibly tight sheath drag at him, calling to him with the silent shout of desire, and he considered it a monumental achievement that he had yet to fully answer the call. With every miniscule progression gained, he felt as if he was being reborn.

  He was well aware of the fact that his entire body was quaking with anticipation and powerfully reined hunger. But his restrained held firm as he inched into her and he was in the process of congratulating himself for his control when the unexpected happened – in a blinding flash, he suddenly found himself seated to the very hilt.

  Gaithlin yelped quietly with the force and swiftness of the action and Christian’s eyes flew open wide, his astonished expression coming to bear on Gaithlin’s taut face. He froze, poised above her, as she struggled to catch her breath. Her clawed hands, gripping his rock-hard buttocks, dug crescent-shaped wounds into the flesh.

  It took him a moment to realize she had impaled herself upon his rod of iron. He had been aware of her long, slender body wrapping itself about him tightly, her hands to his buttocks, but he hadn’t imagined that she had possessed another purpose in mind other than to simply brace herself for the inevitable stab of pain as her maiden’s barrier was breached. He would have laughed at her boldness had he not been shocked with the concept that she had thrust her pelvis forward in an attempt to capture the entire length of his throbbing maleness.

  “What… what did you do?” he demanded, scarcely able to speak.

  She licked her lips, squirming uncomfortably beneath him. “I was tired of waiting,” she whispered, her deep blue eyes meeting him with a certain degree of guilt. “I am sorry, Christian. But… but you were torturing me with your prolonged pace and I was eager to be done with the pain I knew was yet to come.”

  His brow furrowed faintly. “So you thought to hurry me along?”

  She shrugged, wrapping her legs more tightly about his hips. “The anticipation of my maiden’s agony was unbearable,” she said softly. “Are you angry?”

  He shook his head, chuckling weakly. “Nay, my lady, I am not,” kissing her nose, he shifted his weight and braced his powerful arms on either side of her slender body. “In fact, your bravery is amazing. Imagine when I boast that my wife took her own virginity with the aid of my manhood. Certainly, there is something strange to that declaration.”

  She giggled, the stabbing sting radiating from her groin lessening by the moment. “It will be our secret.”

  He matched her grin. “Indeed. I would be embarrassed to admit that you did my job for me.”

  She twisted again, still smiling as she attempted to find a measure of comfort within the fading pain. “You did all of the work, my dearest Demon. I will avow the fact ’til I meet my grave.”

  He gazed deeply into her eyes, watching her face as he slowly withdrew from her deliciously snug sheath. Their smiling expressions faded as he thrust into her again, very slowly, seating himself to the hilt with tender force. Beneath him, Gaithlin shuddered with ecstasy and Christian watched, entranced and overwhelmed, as her large nipples hardened in response to his physical demands.

  It was as he had always imagined it be, greater than he could have ever imagined it to be. As with the very first time he had seen her, fantasizing the sensations of her supple legs wrapped around his body in passion,
her incredibly responsive body reacting to his unspoken desires, the excitement was almost more than he could withstand. His thrusts increased, feeling her body pull at him, the friction building greater than any he had ever known.

  As the scorching heat between them mounted to giddy heights, Gaithlin found herself completely upswept in the newness that was erotic ecstasy. Knowing now what it meant to couple with a man and wondering in the same breath if every experience would be as wondrous as the first.

  Truthfully, beyond the pain of losing her innocence, she hadn’t known what more to expect, which was why with every thrust, every withdrawal, she was pulled deeper and deeper into a world where Christian was lord and master over her world. Where every breath she took depended upon his skill as a lover and where every beat of her heart was reliant upon his amazing physical prowess.

  As the sun rose upon the deep green countryside, Christian took his captive to heights never before mastered. For Christian and Gaithlin, there was only one world worth existing in – theirs. When the pinnacle of their passion was finally unleashed, Gaithlin’s screams of surprised and euphoria echoed off the mighty Scot pines, intermingled with the unearthly growls of the Demon’s pleasure.

  As Malcolm lingered fearfully outside of the shelter door, wondering if the lady and her English knight had somehow managed to harm each other in the midst of their vocal struggle, he was wise enough to realize that entering the shack would not be the correct decision. Whatever transpired, he would wait until the warlord was calm before interjecting his defense of the lady. Even though he had come to adore Christian, the man was still inherently frightening.

  Unaware of Malcolm’s dilemma outside the hut, Gaithlin struggled to recover her composure as she nestled within the powerful embrasure of Christian’s arms. Cradled against his magnificent, sweaty chest, her mind was a maelstrom of warm, giddy thoughts.