His breath was hot on the inside of her thigh, as he made room for himself betwixt her legs, his shoulders twisting, parting knees that felt as soft as ribbon draped over his arms.
She was melting like carved ice at a summer party. What else explained the embarrassing sensation flowing from her once secret female centre. Secret no longer, for Niall savoured her, his lips slurping as if she were a juicy peach and he intent on eating every morsel.
And worse—her reaction was to press closer, to indulge in each thrill that shot through her belly and burst into her breasts. Painful and hard yet bereft without the touch of Niall’s hands, she felt driven to press her palms over her own nipples, as if that would still the insistent ache building inside—an action that only added to her dilemma.
Niall’s mouth had turned her into a bundle of sensations she could not control. Sensations that rocked through her, made her feel split in two as first his tongue then his fingers slid inside. Celestina’s hips undulated against these new ministrations, providers of both pain and pleasure until she was awash with a pleasure that tossed her about as easily as the waves had spewed her onto the beach.
Niall
Never in all the years since he discovered the best use of the prick in his groin had he been with a lass so responsive, so fitted to his touch, that made him want to give more than take. The Selkie sprawled back on the sheets, eyes closed and limbs bathed in moonlight, lying as if too weak to move.
He swiped his forearm across his mouth then, letting his elbows take the weight, rose over her. Her chest still heaved as if there wasnae enough air in the world to bring her back to life, but a flutter of her eyelids gave that the lie. ‘Ach bonnie lass, have ye gone to sleep?’
Her eyes remained closed, but her lips whispered, ‘I am awake still, trying find words for what happened.’
Niall couldnae help but laugh, ‘The French call it ‘le petit mort’, though he couldn’t help but cogitate that what had passed betwixt them and what yet to come had to do with life, not death.
The getting of a life.
A son.
That’s the only news likely to get his father off his back—an heir.
Dipping his head, he nipped her in the place betwixt shoulder and neck where the Selkie had shown to be particularly sensitive, and she didnae prove him wrong. Her back curved in response until her soft belly rubbed against his eager prick, so eager that the simple touch of its head, skin against skin, wrought a heartfelt moan from his throat.
‘Are ye hurt?’
‘Nae, merely a wee bit eager to finish what we started,’ he told her, and before she could respond, he took her mouth again and found her answer in her kiss, in the way her hips lifted for him.
A fingertip told him the lass was well wet, ready for him, as he pressed forward, and then again, giving her time to adjust to his size, for it wouldn’t do to hurt her and have her go off the notion he had that this mating was meant to be, that this is why she had been sent to him, this bonnie magical creature with temptation in her eyes and heaven in every scrap of her person.
Niall felt her body clench around him and decided it meant she was ready to move on and he could get past the effort it took not to hurt her. He felt sure another kiss should do the trick, and though his arms trembled as he leant closer to reach her lips, he thrust forward and filled her, capturing any pain she felt with his mouth.
For what seemed like long minutes they lay still, apart from the kiss he didnae want to end in case she might curse him for taking her before she was ready. In the end it was the wee Selkie whau began to move. ‘Yer all right then lass? I didnae hurt ye?’
‘A bit, but it’s mended now.’
‘Thank the Lord for that,’ he growled as he drew back then sank into her again, suiting his rhythm to hers, enjoying the slap of their bodies meeting. Her heels dug into his hips to hold herself steady as he plunged on and on, riding toward the bright light he could see behind his eyes, unwilling to reach his goal until he was sure she was with him. Yet it was the Selkie that pulled him on, her soft channel clenching round him, dragging him deep into the light until there was naught left but darkness and the sound of his breath scraping against his throat and the Selkie’s soft, swift puffs of air against his cheek, hearts beating against one another in a tune he had never heard before.
Gradually, hearts and breathing settled, slowed to a comfortable pace. Niall rolled onto his side and took the lass with him, holding her tucked into his chest where he could rest his chin on her head. Neither spoke, and for a long time they were content simply to be, yet he was aware from the way her eyelashes tickled his chest that she was awake.
Clouds swamped the moon, and the chamber was in darkness as he lay there, pecking wee kisses against her scalp, content, thinking on everything and naught. Wondering what measure he should take to make sure he didnae lose the lass in his arms back to the sea the way it had happened in Aileen’s stories.
Before he had thought of a plan, the moon, lower than it had been when he came into the chamber, flooded the bed with light again and the lass in his arms set her hand on his shoulders. She pushed back, looking up at him, eyes full of moonlight and lips swollen from his kisses, so beautiful that his hand shook as he tucked a thick swatch of hair behind her ear to make sure naught was hidden from his gaze.
‘Am I your wife now?’
Though it seemed that at last things seemed to be going his way with very little effort on his part, his heart began to pound and he wondered if she could hear it as well. Pitching his voice as quiet as the chamber, it took on a breathless tone, almost anxious if the truth be known as he said, ‘Is that what ye want?’
She nodded, ‘It is.’
‘Then my wife is what ye shall be, I give ye my word, lass.’ And on that note he let out a sigh that tangled with one from the lips of his future wife.
Chapter 10
Niall
The sun was well into the sky when the door flew open and Aileen bowled into the chamber, a towel draped over one shoulder, calling, ‘Are ye going to lie abed all day, Sellie? The lasses have all bathed, and if ye dinnae move yerself they will have eaten all the porridge.’
Pushing up on one elbow Niall confronted their visitor. The auld nurse’s expression was as easy to read as some of the tales she told, and for once it was slightly flustered. ‘Niall. … I apologise, I didnae ken ye had moved back into yer chamber. I was looking for Sellie. The lass is usually downstairs long before now.’
Niall swung his legs over the side of the bed, keeping a hold of the top of the sheet to cover his nakedness just as his darling wee Sellie sat up beside him. ‘Hang on to the sheet, bonnie lass, we have a visitor.’
‘Oh, Aileen, am I late?’ she said, speech improving every minute to his way of thinking. He looked over his shoulder and saw her follow his advice, tucking the sheet under her arms, the white linen emphasising the pink flush of her skin.
For the second time in his life, he had shocked his auld nurse. Her jaw dropped and mouth opened; for once she struggled for aught to say. That was until Jean bustled in behind, peeking past Aileen’s shoulder. ‘I’ve taken a flat iron to yer dress, Sellie. Oh, dear. I’m sorry Laird. I didnae ken ye were here,’ the maid stuttered, though the gleam in her eyes more speculative than Aileen’s was shocked.
‘Give that to me and I’ll lay it on the bed for Sellie, then ye can get away down to the kitchen and nae gossiping,’ Aileen ordered, taking charge.
‘Nae, wait,’ Niall cancelled the last order. ‘Ye can both do something for me first.’ He took hold of Sellie’s hand, their fingers each threaded through the other’s.
‘Sellie and me have decided to become hand-fasted and will marry when the priest next comes to Inverbrevie. And since yer both here, Jean can join Aileen as our witnesses.’ Sellie’s hand still clung to his, and he tucked it under his arm until they were sitting side by side, Sellie pressed against him.
‘I, Niall McDonall have become hand-fasted with
Sellie—of the sea.’
He gave the wee Selkie a nudge. ‘Yer turn, Sellie.’
She looked up at him, eyes wide, and he whispered, ‘After me,’ and mouthed, ‘I, Sellie of the sea have become hand-fasted to Niall McDonall.’
Sellie’s voice wasn’t near as strong as his, but she followed word for word, and he lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her on the knuckles. Done, he raised his gaze to pierce Aileen and Jean with a warning. ‘Nae gossiping. I’ll tell my daughters myself. Now have some folks fill the bathing tub and tell cook when we’re done we’ll expect to break our fast with eggs and ham.’
Celestina
Hand-fasted? Did that mean they were wed? That she was a wife?
She should ask him, mayhap after she had bathed and smelled nice. Her mother had explained about married love.That was how she had referred to the pleasures she and Niall had shared last night. Making love was what Niall called it, but she was uncertain if this thing, these emotions he drew out of her, could be compared to love.
As soon as the door closed behind the departing women, Niall leapt out of bed and pushed the room’s only chair where it would block the door. ‘Privacy,’ he said as he strode back to the bed. She found it impossible to answer and now knew what folk meant when they said they had been struck dumb. Putting aside all that had passed betwixt them through the night, the intimacies they had shared, she had not seen him naked—fully naked—until he walked into the arrow of sunlight piercing the narrow window.
Niall had long legs, muscular, and a stride to go with them. His chest, too, was well muscled and no secret, for he often went without his shirt. Yet she flushed, remembering how she had played, sipped on those flat brown nipples that had risen under her ministrations. It was, however, the extremely male flesh nestled among black curls below his navel that held her gaze. She could not take her eyes off it—confused, then not so confused as his member grew large to the size she remembered by the time he reached the bed.
He laughed and clasped his hand around the thick erection as if to prevent it moving around, as if it had a mind of its own. ‘This is yer own doing, lass, looking at me with yon bonnie blue eyes. Ye make me remember the guid use we put my prick to last night.’
Another reason for blushing. Celestina’s cheeks burned as he threw himself onto the bed to lie on his side, head supported by hand and elbow on the pillow next to her while he stared, at her breasts in particular. Suddenly she discovered his look could have the same effect on her as she had on him. Her breasts felt heavy, and the nipples pouted above the sheet she no longer hid behind. Curiosity got the better of her, ‘Is it always huge?’
A bellow of laughter burst from his lips, and he rolled onto his back, shoulders shaking. ‘Did ye think it was the sunlight that made it grow? Nae lass, it’s yerself that makes it grow, yer eyes on me and the thoughts behind them obvious, as ye remember it inside ye. Of course that has the effect of making me remember being inside ye, and makes me want to do it again. We have a few minutes while they fill the bathing tub. What do ye think?’
All it took was a few words to make her womb clench low down in her belly. How could anyone forget the pleasure he had wrought with hand, mouth and the erection that waved slightly above his groin.
Already Celestina felt as if she were melting inside again. ‘Do ye want?’
More laughter and a proud grin preceded his answer, ‘I’m a man. As long as we have blood in our veins, we want our woman, our wives.’ He lifted her left hand, placing a kiss on the ring finger. ‘That’s what we need, a ring to show yer mine, as well as a scowl from me to warn other men away.’ His expression grew serious, brows drawn together. ‘Yer mine now, till death do us part, and we’ll make it official when the priest arrives. I’ll send for him. I don’t suppose ye have religion under the sea, but I’m a Catholic man and boy, and nae matter that they took off our queen’s head because of it, I’ll never change.’
Somehow, it made her happy to know they shared the same religion, the one that had driven her mother’s family to Spain—the reason she was here now, pretending to be a sea creature, a Selkie from the deep blue sea on the Scottish coast.
When Niall unfolded her fingers and turned her hand until its palm was open for his kiss, Celestina felt the thrill travel from hand to heart and should have been shocked when he pulled it close to his erection and wrapped her fingers round the base, yet they did not meet. ‘Ye have a small hand, Sellie, but I dinnae doubt ye can feel the blood pulsing through my prick, and that it’s for ye. I swear this will never pierce another woman, for none can rouse the blood in my veins the way ye do. Ye were my gift from the sea, a treasure I might not have deserved yet cannae refuse.’
Celestina’s hair still tangled about her shoulders, yet he fisted a hand in it and pulled her closer for his kiss. As his mouth closed over hers, she was filled with a sensation never experienced before in her short lifetime. Heart swelling, her lungs seized, while behind her eyelids she saw stars, flashes of light that felt like beacons marking her way forward.
When she could breathe again and he let loose her hair, she realised he was laughing again. ‘Ach, lass, ye learn quick.’ He chuckled, looking down at his erection. She still held it and was smoothing up and down its length. A bead of liquid had appeared at its blunt tip, and it made her think of the hot gush of seed he had released inside her. She rubbed the pad of her thumb across the tip, smearing it with his seed and, for some reason she did not understand, as Niall looked into her eyes, Celestina raised her thumb to her lips and sucked.
Men were strange creatures, and there was little doubt that she had a lot to learn, especially when her action elicited a groan from Niall.
‘Lassie, yer killing me here,’ he growled and pushed her back amongst the pillows. ‘We have just time for a quick ride, are ye too sore? Will we wait?’ he asked, a pained expression on his face as he awaited her answer. Such courtesy.
Niall deserved more love-making. After all, he had called her wife and had little need to ask. That much she knew about Spanish men. His laughter became contagious. She giggled, throwing her arms around his neck to peck little kisses over his prickly face, his eyes, cheeks, the corner of his mouth. ‘We will be quick and Niall will teach me more of love-making please.’
In a short space of time, Niall achieved much more than she had ever imagined. It was good to have a husband with a care for satisfying his wife before himself.
Chapter 11
Celestina
Eight days hand-fasted, and apart from spending her nights in Niall’s arms, very little had changed, but then only Aileen and Jean had witnessed the simple ceremony, a custom she had discovered was peculiar to the Scots.
While they shared the bathing tub that morning, Niall had taken the trouble to slowly explain what it meant, a habit that was becoming frustrating, but having declared themselves in front of witnesses they were bound together for a full year. After that they could either enter a legal marriage or part. Her husband had decided that it was better not to tell his daughters until he had a response from the messenger he’d sent to fetch a priest. Six days since the lad had left, and still neither messenger nor priest had yet arrived.
In a way, she understood the delay. Though Inverbrevie Keep was built on the coast, the land to the east and south towered in high mountains that more often than not were wreathed in morning mist or rain blown in from the Atlantic, the way it had blown her.
Today was beautiful, the sun hot on their backs as she took the three girls for a walk and some fresh air. Autumn was upon them, the leaves turning red and gold round the edges. She fell into wondering what it would be like at Inverbrevie Keep in winter. For a brief moment, she felt a pang of longing for Spain and its sunshine, then remembered the restrictions for a woman of her class. She would never have been allowed to walk like this in the open without a duenna, and with her father dead, the best she could have hoped for was life in a convent—a bride of Christ. She would put up with cold winters a
t any price to avoid that. And then there was Niall. She could not imagine feeling cold at night with her husband to keep her warm.
She had not paid much attention to the direction they had taken, simply letting her mind wonder what lay in the future while her feet wandered in the girls’ footsteps.
The girls walked, heads together whispering and giggling then, suddenly, Fiona looked over her shoulder, calling, ‘Catch us if ye can, Sellie,’ and they began to run.
Knowing all the little paths and tracks gave them an advantage, though their squeals tended to give them away, soon they were racing down the sloping path to the beach, skirts hoisted up around their knees, with Celestina in their wake, careful not to trip over her hem. At the bottom, Beth toed off her shoes and tossed them onto the foot of the path then started on her stockings. ‘Take yer shoes off, Sellie. We want to wade.’
She shuddered, hands rubbing up and down her arms. ‘Not me, the water’s too cold,’ she told her, unprepared for her smart retort.
‘But are ye not used to the cold, out there under the ocean waves.’
A fine thing to be caught out by a girl less than half her age, so much so that she forgot the pretence of still learning to speak their language. ‘When ye have a few more years under yer belt, ye will learn that becoming used to a thing doesn’t necessarily mean you have to like it.’ Celestina tilted her chin and looking down her nose stamped a foot. ‘I refuse to remove my slippers.’
‘Ye are awfully funny, Sellie, but we like ye,’ Fiona chortled, reminding Celestina that she was the one who was always happy. ‘So much has happened since ye arrived. At least ye are not boring.’
Beth cocked her head to one side as she pulled off her second stocking. ‘Did ye hear that Pa has sent for a priest? It’s years since a man of God visited Inverbrevie. One of the kitchen maids reckons it’s because of the hanging.’ She looked at Celestina as if to say are ye listening. ‘I think he doesnae want to use Gordon’s wee house again until it’s been blessed.’
Bride From the Sea Page 8
