Victoria Roberts - [Bad Boys of the Highlands 03]

by To Wed a Wicked Highlander

  When her husband finally walked through the door, he was dressed in his tunic and kilt. His warm eyes were full of something she could not quite identify, and although what he expected was not clear, there was something captivating in his look. Since Alexander still wore his clothes, maybe he had decided not to consummate the marriage this eve. If that was true, Sybella felt completely underdressed for the occasion.

  He placed a tankard down on the bedside table. “Wife.”

  “Alexander.”

  His gaze lowered, as did his voice. “Ye have yet to call me husband or Alex.”

  “We barely know one another,” she said quietly.

  “Now that simply isnae true. We have known each other since the day at the waterfall.” His tone was laced with subtle amusement.

  Her mouth dropped open. “The waterfall? We hardly spoke.”

  He gave her a roguish grin and Sybella cast her eyes downward. All too quickly, she had run out of diversions. How much longer could she postpone the inevitable? She tried to force her confused emotions into order and couldn’t stand the unwelcome tension. Praise the saints. There was no sense worrying about what could not be changed. One way or another, after tonight, she would no longer be an innocent woman.

  She took a deep breath and consciously masked her inner turmoil with deceptive calmness. But when the silence began to grate on her nerves, she decided to address the subject head on.

  “Is there something we need to do first?” She waved her hand in a nervous gesture.

  Alexander was momentarily speechless in his surprise. “I was going to speak with ye and offer ye a wee bit of ale, but if ye wish to have me in your bed…” When his eyes darkened with an unreadable emotion, Sybella flopped back onto the bed and adjusted her pillow.

  “I am nervous enough. This prolonged torture doesnae benefit anyone. Can ye please do what ye need to do?” She bit her lip in a nervous gesture.

  A gentle chuckle answered her as her husband stood perfectly still beside the bed. “Do what I need to do?” He dropped down beside her, facing her, while she continued to stare at the ceiling. Draping his arm over her waist, he shook his head. “Ye donna want any wooing words before we—”

  “Why would ye need to give me wooing words when I am already your wife?” she asked dryly.

  “Look at me.” When she turned her head, she saw a suggestion of annoyance in his eyes. “Ye are far too tense. Ye need to relax and calm yourself. This doesnae have to be unpleasant.”

  “Speaks the man with the…” Sybella gestured toward her husband’s manhood and quickly added, “cluigean.” Hanging thing.

  Her husband stared at her and then burst out laughing. When she started to grind her teeth, the amusement left his eyes. “Sybella, I only try to speak with ye to calm ye.”

  She huffed. “Ye have been doing naught but speaking. I donna think your words will change the end result, unless I am mistaken.”

  In one swift movement, he lowered his head and moved his mouth over hers. His kiss was surprisingly gentle. His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips and then explored her mouth. He shifted and kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat as blood coursed through her veins.

  She became instantly awake.

  Her husband’s arms encircled her, one hand at the small of her back. She could feel his uneven breathing on her cheek as he held her close. The warmth of his arms was so male, so bracing. His mouth was warm and sweet on hers.

  The mere touch of his hand sent a warming shiver through her, and she tingled from the contact. She felt transported on a soft and wispy cloud. Alexander’s demanding lips caressed her, and his slow, drugging kisses were driving her mad.

  With his tongue, he ravished her mouth. He released her briefly, only enough to breathe, and then repeated his ritual again.

  Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes. He slid the nightrail off her shoulders and down her arms, as she lay bare beneath his sultry glance. He tugged off his tunic and hastily tossed it aside.

  Sybella gasped as bare skin met bare skin and she felt her breasts crush against the hardness of his chest.

  Her husband picked up a lock of her hair and caressed it gently. “Ye are so verra bonny.”

  When he lightly kneaded her breasts with his rough fingers and teased her nipples into hard aching points, her mind was robbed of any coherent words. He lowered his head and kissed her taut nipples, rousing a melted sweetness within her. She found it difficult to remain still when he suckled the tips of her breasts.

  There was a heated swelling between her legs, a moistness she did not understand.

  When he slid his hand over her trembling stomach and then between her legs, she froze. He kissed her again and, with a few skillful strokes of his fingers, pushed back the shock of his personal touch. His finger thrust inside her, imitating the movement of his tongue in her mouth.

  He felt so strong against her body that she was completely enthralled by his masculinity. The possessiveness of his touch did not lessen her awareness of the man in her arms. In truth, she sensed a sudden secureness, protectiveness, coming from him. Is this what it meant to be husband and wife? Her mind was so cluttered with thoughts that she wasn’t exactly sure what she was experiencing.

  Her husband’s body moved to partially cover hers, his hands lifting her nightrail above her hips. She momentarily stiffened but quickly remembered Mary’s words of wisdom.

  ***

  As Alex crouched over his bonny wife, he cursed the dim light. From what he could see, Sybella was exquisite. Her creamy breasts filled his hands and her slender hips ignited his passion. Frankly, she aroused him so swiftly that he was afraid he might not be able to take it slowly. That would be a definite challenge.

  He reached down and loosened his kilt while he continued to drug her with passionate kisses. He knew she was more than a little nervous, so he would continue to distract her in pleasant ways.

  Praise the saints. The lass was so wet and ready for him.

  He eased himself inside her and, with one quick thrust, made her his.

  Sybella gasped and he held himself up on his forearms, fighting to remain still. He tried not to breathe. His body shook with strain, and sweat beaded on his forehead. Damn, how he craved to move.

  He wanted to give her body time to adjust to him, but the feel of her tight heat was almost his undoing. He placed his head to hers, maddened with need.

  “Is that all?” she asked with rounded eyes.

  He tried to stay the laugh that wanted to escape from him. “Nay, lass, there is much, much more.” He grasped her by the calves and gently pushed her legs up until her knees were bent.

  When he pressed deeper within her, she clamped her eyes shut and cried out, “Yan, Tyan, Tethera, Methera, Pimp, Sethera, Lethera, Hovera, Dovera, Dik—”

  “What are ye doing?” he asked through clenched teeth, his chest heaving. When she hesitated, he thought she was about to answer him. But her eyes remained shut and she continued to chant—louder.

  “Yanadik, Tyanadik, Tetheradik.”

  “God’s teeth, Sybella!”

  “I count sheep,” she said, her voice cold and lashing.

  His wife’s emotionless words killed his ardor like a bucket of ice-cold water. When Alex pulled back, Sybella swiftly rolled to her side, tugging the blankets away from him. She became as quiet as a mouse, her behavior unsettling.

  Momentarily taken aback by her change in attitude, he swallowed hard, trying not to reveal his anger. He’d tried to be patient with her, but when his beloved wife purposely ignored him and did not even stir, he’d had enough. He promptly stood and grabbed his kilt and tunic from the floor. With one last look at the bed, he glowered at the wily female and stormed through the adjoining door. Her actions were as cold and empty as the bed she would sleep in this eve.

  Whe
n Alex reached his chamber, he contemplated what the hell had happened. His mind turned to their embrace on the parapet. The lass had given in freely to the passion of his kiss. He would love to know what had changed between then and when he’d left her bed only a short moment ago.

  He’d never forget the expression on her face. With her eyes clamped shut, Sybella’s look was one of pure torture. He was as gentle and careful as he could’ve been for her first time, but when his wife started to count sheep beneath him, that was the last straw. He would never forget the relief that crossed her face when he rolled onto his side. He wasn’t a total arse. He was going to stay and offer her comfort. But from the look of things, she wanted no part of it—or him.

  Whatever his wife’s issues were, she had better get over them soon. He would be visiting her chamber often and would not think about leaving her alone until she became with child. He was disappointed in her. She had seemed so willing to start anew when he kissed her that afternoon, and for a brief time, he was foolish enough to believe they had an understanding.

  He refused to dwell on his wife’s odd behavior any longer.

  At least the MacKenzies would be leaving in a few short hours. Maybe then, he could finally get everything and everyone around him back to normal. That had not been the case for so long that he needed to remember exactly what normal entailed. Nevertheless, he had one less problem to worry about. His clan would be fed; his union with Sybella taking care of that.

  And poor Aunt Iseabail.

  Perhaps once all of the commotion had ended and everything settled down, she would have time to rest. The festivities seemed to be taking their toll. Although his aunt obviously favored the companionship of William MacKenzie, the last thing Alex wanted was another of Sybella’s pesky kin under his roof. By this time on the morrow, it would all be over.

  ***

  With a long, exhausted sigh, Sybella pulled herself to her feet and then quickly dropped back onto the bed.

  Her body ached.

  No wonder. But at least the toughest part was over and she now knew what to expect—although it wasn’t nearly as insufferable as Mary had described.

  Sybella rose from the bed, wanting to spend some time with Colin before he took his leave. When a feeling of loneliness washed over her, she willed it away. Everything would be all right. She would accept nothing less. Even though the last few days had unsettled her, she would smile and hold her head high when her clan left for home.

  She pulled out her day dress and had turned to the bed when she noticed a spot of blood on the covers. Lifting her nightrail, she observed the same underneath.

  Mary never mentioned blood.

  Dear God.

  Why was she bleeding? It was not her time.

  There was a knock on the adjoining door. “Wife?”

  The door cracked open and Sybella ran to close it, barely missing Alexander’s face. “Please donna come in here,” she said in a rush of words.

  Her husband’s large hand gripped the door. “Why? What is amiss?”

  She pushed again, but the door would not budge against the huge mass of her husband. “Please, Alexander. There is naught—”

  He shoved the door open and walked through, stealing a glance around her chamber. “What is amiss?”

  “’Tis naught,” she said with as much innocence as she could muster. She whipped the covers up on the bed and bunched up her nightrail, holding it to the side. When his eyes narrowed, she was keenly aware of his scrutiny. She continued to stare at him, feigning indifference.

  He let out a long, audible breath. “Did we nae discuss that I will nae tolerate lies between us? It has only been one day, and already ye forget my words.” He leisurely walked over to the sitting area and pulled out a chair. “I will simply sit here until ye speak the truth.”

  When she lifted her brow, he returned the same gesture and waited.

  Sybella paled at the enormity of the command. She had not forgotten the words they spoke on the parapet, but she was intensely humiliated. She sat down on the bed, her fingers squeezing the bridge of her nose. “Alexander—”

  “I am listening.” His tone was the same as if he were talking with a child. Pausing, he seemed to choose his words carefully. “I thought we had an understanding last eve. I expect the truth. Mayhap I wasnae clear in my purpose. When I ask something of ye, I presume ye would be honest. I told ye as much before. I donna tolerate lies.”

  Why would he make her speak of this? He folded his muscled arms over his chest and was not going to relent. Why did this come as no surprise? She had no choice but to yield to his command. She was forced to speak the truth, no matter how humiliating, but she certainly didn’t have to look at him while she spoke.

  “I bleed and ’tisnae my time,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  Sybella repeated her words louder and closed her eyes. Footsteps stopped in front of her and a hand rested upon her shoulder. When she did not glance up, Alexander sat down on the bed beside her.

  “Lass, ’tis normal for your first time. The reason I called upon ye this morn was to tell ye I ordered a bath for ye. It should help to ease the soreness ye feel. There is naught to be ashamed of, and ye donna need to hide such things from me. I am your husband. We are as one.”

  She was helpless to halt her embarrassment. “I…didnae know it was normal. When I saw the blood…”

  He smiled warmly. “Didnae your mother speak with ye about such things?”

  Sybella shook her head. “My mother became ill before she had the chance. There was only Mary.”

  A strange look passed over his features. “Mary?” When an unwelcome blush crept onto Sybella’s cheeks, he grabbed her hand. “I am your husband. Tell me. What exactly did Mary say to ye about such matters?”

  “Obviously, she didnae tell me about any bleeding.”

  He patiently listened while Sybella repeated most of what Mary instructed her.

  “And the sheep?”

  “As I already said, I am to remain perfectly still and close my eyes. When that cluigean goes in, I am to count sheep to ease the pain.”

  Alexander glanced sideways, and she swore he laughed and then covered it quickly with a cough. What was the matter with the man? He’d asked what Mary said, and Sybella had spoken honestly. After all, that’s what he demanded.

  “Nay worries. Is there anything else I can do for ye?” he asked, rubbing her shoulder.

  She shook her head. The conversation had already gone too long. If this was any indication of how her day was going to go, she suddenly had the overwhelming urge to crawl back into bed and cower under the blankets.

  He rose from the bed and kissed her on the top of the head. “Your bath will be here soon.”

  Sybella watched Alexander walk through the adjoining door. Closing her eyes, she sat bent over with her face in her hands. Among other emotions was a deep sense of shame. How could she not know what was happening with her own body? And worse yet, she’d needed a man to explain it to her. Her pride had been seriously bruised.

  There was a knock at her bedchamber door, and the men carried in a tub as well as steaming buckets of water. What a welcome sight. As soon as the door closed behind them, Sybella quickly disrobed and sank into the hot bath. She moaned aloud and did not care who heard her. The hot water felt so comforting against her skin. She swore she had only shut her eyes for a moment when there was another rap at the door.

  “Sybella, ’tis Mary.”

  Sybella groaned but not because of the soothing water. “Come in.”

  Mary walked into Sybella’s chamber and closed the door. She pulled out her skirts and sat on the edge of the bed, but not before she spotted the stained nightrail thrown carelessly on the floor.

  “I see ye are still in one piece. Are ye all right?” asked Mary.

  “I donna know. I did
what ye said and barely moved to ease the pain. I think the counting helped as well. It wasnae as bad as I thought it would be. Howbeit ye didnae tell me there would be blood.”

  “Aye, well, I didnae want ye to worry. Some women bleed more than others. Ye will be sore for a few days, but it will nae be as painful the next time.” Mary smoothed her tresses. “The men are packing our belongings. After we break our fast, we will take our leave.” She smiled down at Sybella. “I will miss ye, and I wish ye naught but happiness with your new husband.”

  “I will miss ye as well, Mary.” Sybella pulled herself to her feet and Mary handed her a drying cloth.

  “Ye can always come to visit. And besides, Anabel would welcome the sight.”

  “She has grown so fast. I can only imagine the young lass she will become by the time I see her again.”

  As long as the Highland weather permitted, Sybella often found escape in the confines of the village. Ever since Anabel was a bairn, she had been taken with Sybella—well, who was she fooling? Sybella had been taken with Anabel. The little girl’s temperament was irresistible. In some aspects they were similar, always wanting to be included, to belong.

  Refusing to give in to her spell of listlessness, Sybella dressed quickly. Mary helped to pin up her tresses, and even though her cousin-by-marriage frequently pushed her to the edge of sanity, Sybella would truly miss her. After all, Mary was the only woman companion she had in her life.

  They walked into the great hall and Sybella gazed upon the faces of her kin, a difficult task knowing in a few short hours the room would be filled with nothing but MacDonells. When a flicker of apprehension coursed through her, it was almost as if Colin sensed her discomfiture and was immediately by her side.

  “How are ye, Ella? Are ye all right? If he harmed ye—”