by Lynsay Sands
"Do you think so?" Jetta asked hopefully.
"Of course he will. Aulay is a sweetheart. He'll definitely be gentle," she assured her and then added, "that linen Rory wrapped around yer ankle seems to be working nicely. Ye're hardly limping."
"Oh aye," Jetta muttered distractedly. "But I did not mean do you really think Aulay will be gentle with me. I already knew he would. I was questioning . . . Do you really think Aulay has tender feelings for me?" she explained. "I mean, I know he wants me, but he said he was not sure he loved me. Mayhap all he feels for me is desire and gratitude that I am not put off by his scar."
"And ye want his love," Saidh said quietly.
"Aye. I love him," she pointed out.
"Are ye sure ye do?" Saidh asked softly. "Or is it possible all you feel is desire and gratitude fer his saving yer life?"
"I--" Jetta began, and then paused and gave the question the consideration it deserved. Was it possible that she only loved him because she desired him and was grateful for all he'd done for her?
"Good God!"
Giving a start at that intrusion into her thoughts, Jetta turned to peer at Aulay with surprise. He was all finished getting ready. He'd changed, brushed his hair to a fine sheen and even had a quick wash in the basin in their chamber from what she could tell. The man was ready and they hadn't even begun to start on her. They hadn't even reached Murine's room yet.
"Ye've no' even started," Aulay squawked, as if he'd read her mind.
"We are going now," Saidh said firmly, catching Jetta's arm and ushering her the last few steps to the door to Murine and Dougall's room. Opening the door, she urged Jetta inside and called out to her brother, "Go on and head to the church. We'll be right behind ye. This will no' take a minute."
The other women had rushed into the room as she spoke, and the moment the last word was out, Saidh pushed the door closed.
Turning to Jetta, she smiled wryly and said, "It matters little if ye love him now or he loves you. Ye want each other, and more important, ye like each other and that's a good start. More than many begin marriage with."
"Liking is more important than wanting?" Jetta asked with interest.
"Oh aye," Jo assured her as the women set to work on removing the gown she wore. "Passion is like the waves, rising and falling with the hour, day and season. Friendship, though, is much more steady. It will get you through those days when passion is the last thing on your mind."
"Like when ye've a crying baby on your shoulder, and two chewing up yer teets, and ye're so exhausted ye can no' see straight, but he thinks to cheer ye with a little houghmagandie," Saidh said dryly. "Ye'll want to take a battle ax to his head then."
Jetta's eyes widened.
"But friendship will stay your hand," Jo said with amusement as the gown Jetta wore dropped to the floor and Murine approached with the pale green one she was to wear. As they lifted it over her head to put it on her, Jo continued, "And in a couple hours, days, or mayhap even a week, when you are well rested and recovered, you will again be interested in that houghmagandie he suggested earlier, and the sweet release he can offer."
"Aye, and 'twill be the same fer him," Murine assured her as the gown dropped into place and they set to fastening her stays. "He will have days where everything that can go wrong will, or that he is so blind with exhaustion that houghmagandie is the last thing on his mind and nothing ye do can raise his interest."
With the stays finished, they turned their attention to her hair as Murine admitted wryly, "Mind ye, those days are much less frequent fer the men. At least they are with Dougall."
"But yer friendship will see ye through those days too," Edith assured her.
"But that will no' be fer a while," Saidh assured her. "Ye and Aulay will be in yer room more than ye're out fer the next little while."
"Aye, so 'tis good we're here to help catch the attacker while ye're busy," Murine murmured, and admitted, "I can no' wait to tell the men that we discovered how the attacker eluded them."
"Aye," Jo said with a smile. "They will be so annoyed."
"No doubt," Saidh said cheerfully as they all stepped back to survey their handiwork.
"Lovely," Edith pronounced.
"Aye, perfect," Murine murmured and then turned Jetta toward the mirror on the wall so she could see herself as she added, "ye can no' even tell they cut her hair away."
Jetta peered at her reflection and blinked, barely recognizing herself. They'd made her look lovely.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"No thanks are needed," Saidh assured her with a smile. "Ye're a member o' the family now. Or will be once we get ye to the church."
"Speaking of which, shall we, ladies?" Jo said, heading for the door.
Jetta found herself hustled from the room and hurried down the hall by the four lovely, laughing ladies who were about to become her family.
Chapter 15
"Congratulations, m'laird! We're all right happy fer ye, and look forward to toasting to yer happiness together."
"Thank ye, Fergus," Aulay said, sincerely.
Jetta smiled and thanked the man too. She'd never met him before, but suspected he was one of her husband's soldiers. Many soldiers and servants had stopped to congratulate them since the ceremony had ended.
"We should go back and toast to yer happiness," Dougall said with a smile, slapping his brother on the back as the last of the people of Buchanan moved away and started back to the keep.
Jetta saw the frown that briefly crossed her new husband's face, and then he smiled, and nodded. "Aye. But first Jetta and I need to thank Father Archibald fer performing the service so late and after his long journey back."
"Oh aye." Dougall glanced toward the priest who was talking to people near the door to the church.
"You and the others go ahead," Aulay suggested lightly. "We'll be right behind ye."
Nodding, Dougall slapped him on the back one more time and then turned to gather the others and usher them back toward the keep, telling them that Aulay and Jetta would follow in a moment.
"Come." Aulay swept her up in his arms and turned, not toward the church or the keep, but away from both and ran through the darkness, straight into the stables.
"What are we doing here?" she asked with confusion as he entered the stables and slowed to a walk.
"Ere we left our room I made a promise to ye that within minutes after the ceremony, we'd return and finish what I'd started," he reminded her solemnly, carrying her past the stalls to the bales at the back of the stables. "Howbeit, if we return to the keep, I'll no' be able to honor that vow. Our people will insist on a toast, and then another, and it'll be hours ere we can retire to our room," he pointed out.
"Aye," she agreed, blushing.
"But do we stop here for a little bit," he added, lowering his head to nuzzle her ear, "I can keep me promise."
"Oh," she breathed as he raised his head again.
Aulay peered at her silently for a moment, as if memorizing her features, and then bent his head to kiss her.
Jetta's mouth opened on a gasp of surprise as he released her legs, and his tongue slid in to fill the open space at once. At first, she was too startled to respond, but then his hands drifted down over her body, massaging her back and pressing her closer before dropping to cup her bottom and lift her off the ground until he could press hard against the junction between her legs. His tongue thrust into her mouth in time with his grinding into her, and Jetta gave in with a groan and started to kiss him back. It seemed like she'd barely started to respond, though, when he tore his mouth away.
Shifting his lips to her ear, he nuzzled it as he growled, "I'm still hard fer ye, love. Are ye still wet fer me?"
"I--" She halted on a gasp as his hand shifted to the back of her thigh and drew her leg up and around his hip again as he had in their room earlier. He then slid his hand under her skirt and along her leg to find out for himself.
"Oh God, ye are," he groaned, and then covered her
mouth with his own and kissed her passionately as he began to caress her.
Moaning, Jetta clutched at his shoulders and kissed him eagerly back, her hips moving into the caress. She broke their kiss on a gasping cry when he suddenly slid a finger into her, and Aulay returned to her ear, this time nibbling and sucking at the lobe as his hand worked its magic.
"Husband, please," Jetta whimpered, and sure her legs were about to give out, clutched at him desperately.
"Please, what?" he growled, thrusting harder. "Give me yer pleasure, wife."
"I--I, O--!"
Aulay cut off her cry with his mouth, kissing her deeply and continuing to thrust his finger into her as she convulsed and trembled in his arms. Jetta rode the wave he'd placed her on, expecting the lazy relaxed feeling to claim her again as it had that time at the lodge, but instead her excitement began to build again as he continued to caress her.
Tearing his mouth away, Aulay growled, "I want to taste yer pleasure."
Jetta blinked her eyes open with confusion at those words, and then gaped down at him in dismay when he suddenly dropped to kneel before her.
"Husband!" she hissed with horror, her gaze shooting to the open stable doors and back as he caught the hem of her gown. "What are you--Oh God," she gasped as he disappeared under her skirt. Trying to catch his head in the material, she whispered, "What if someone comes in?"
He pulled his head back out briefly to say, "The gates are closed and the bridge is up. No one will need the stables tonight, and Fergus is the stable master."
"Fergus?" Jetta echoed blankly as his head disappeared under her skirt again, and then recalled the last man to congratulate them. The man looking forward to drinking to their happiness, she recalled, and then fell backward as Aulay urged her legs apart. Fortunately, she fell onto the bales he'd stood her in front of. The moment she did, Aulay used his hold on her legs to shift her to his liking and then tasted her pleasure as he'd said he wished to do.
Covering her mouth with one hand to keep from screaming, Jetta reached for something to ground herself as he set to work on her. All she found was straw, but she dug her fingers in, tearing at it for all she was worth as Aulay seemed to try to devour her whole. His tongue moved up, down and around, and then he suckled at her tender folds before concentrating on the center of her excitement. He did that for what seemed like an eternity, urging her toward the release she craved, and then pulling her back by shifting his attentions until she thought she would go mad . . . or punch him if he did not stop driving her mad like that.
The thought nearly made her laugh as Jetta realized that, dear God, Saidh was right! And then Aulay suddenly slid a finger inside of her, and got serious with his mouth, and the combination sent her off. Screaming into her hand, she bucked on the bale as her release hit her, her mind drifting briefly loose as sensation overwhelmed it.
Jetta didn't know how much time had passed when she realized that Aulay hadn't stopped what he was doing. He was continuing to work on her with his fingers and mouth, though he'd eased away from the now-sensitive nub. And then his finger seemed to grow inside her. Which she knew was impossible, so could only assume he'd eased a second finger in to join the first. He was also moving them differently, she realized, spreading them slightly, spreading her, she realized, trying to prepare her for--
"Oh!" Jetta panted into her palm, losing interest in trying to figure out what he was doing as his tongue returned to the center of her excitement again. Dear God, she couldn't--He had to stop. She could not--
"Husband!" she cried out as she did find release again and her body began to shudder and jerk. Jetta was so caught up in the waves rolling over her that she hardly noticed when Aulay withdrew from beneath her skirt, stepped between her legs and clasped her hips. She definitely noticed, though, when he thrust into her. That was a little hard to miss, and that was when everything kind of stopped for her. It wasn't because it was excruciatingly painful as she'd feared it might be. In fact, Jetta wouldn't have described it as painful at all. It was more uncomfortable, like trying to squeeze into a dress that was too small. Or maybe the opposite of that. She was the dress that was too small, and he was the one trying to squeeze in. Although he'd already squeezed in. He was there, all of him, and unmoving as her body struggled to accommodate this new experience.
"Are ye all right, love?"
Blinking her eyes open, Jetta lifted her head to peer at him. His sword lay on the bale next to her, and his plaid was gone, his shirt the only thing remaining, but he'd pulled the front up and behind his head while leaving his arms in the sleeves so that it was more of a halter. A shoulder halter that left his beautiful chest and everything else on display. Well, everything but where he was joined to her, she thought.
"Love? Are ye all right?"
Raising her eyes quickly, Jetta met his gaze and frowned when she noted the pained expression he wore. His voice had been rather pained too when he asked his question, she thought, and instead of answering, asked, "Are you, husband?"
Presumably he took that for an "aye, I am fine," because he moved again then, easing himself back a bit, and then pressing back into her again.
Jetta bit her lip and waited, but there was nothing. No pain, but no pleasure either, just that strange, uncomfortable sensation.
"Am I hurting ye?" he growled, pausing again.
"Nay," Jetta assured him.
Nodding, Aulay eased out again, a little further this time, and then slid back in. He watched her face as he did this time, and not sure what he expected or wanted to see, Jetta tried a smile. She suspected it was the wrong expression when a breathless laugh slid from his lips. But then he moved one hand between them, to just above where they were joined, and began to caress her again.
Her eyes immediately widened incredulously as her earlier excitement instantly burst back to life. It was as if it had just stepped aside to allow her to adjust to this new experience, but was eager to return. The next time Aulay moved, the uncomfortable sensation was negligible and the time after that, Jetta found herself pushing into it. After the fourth move, she couldn't bear to not participate more, and rose up on the bale to wrap one hand around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.
Aulay complied at once, his tongue sliding between her lips to whip her excitement to a frenzy as he began to pound into her hard and fast. This time when Jetta found her release and cried out, her husband cried out with her, although the sound he made was more of a roar. His legs must have gone weak as hers had earlier, because he then sort of collapsed against her, forcing her onto her back and following her down. He quickly rolled them both then, though, so that she rested on top of him instead of him crushing her. He also held her close and kissed her forehead, then ran his hands gently up and down her back.
Jetta sighed and snuggled against him, and then stiffened in surprise.
"What is it, love?" Aulay asked and she could hear the frown in his voice.
Tipping her head back, she peered at him uncertainly, and then said, "Ye're still--" She cut herself off with a blush, unable to say that he was still inside of her and still hard.
He had no compunction about saying it though. "Aye, I'm hard still and inside ye."
"Oh." She wasn't sure what to say. She had no idea if it was normal or not.
"I was aroused quite a while," he pointed out gently when she didn't say anything, but didn't relax against him again either. "Since before the ceremony. 'Twill take a while to go down."
"Oh," she repeated, and then asked, "Is it normal? I mean, you did . . . ?"
"Aye, I did," he said with amusement. "And aye, 'tis normal. Fer me anyway," he added wryly, his eyes closing.
Jetta considered that, and then asked, "Does that mean we can do it again?"
Eyes popping open, he jerked his head up and stared at her briefly, and then asked, "Do ye want to do it again?"
"Aye, please," she said solemnly.
"Well--oomph," he gasped when she placed her hands on his chest and pu
shed herself upright.
"Sorry," she muttered, realizing she'd knocked the wind from him briefly as she'd shifted to straddle him.
"'Tis fine," Aulay said quickly, reaching to tug at the neckline of her gown.
Jetta glanced down in time to see him pull the material under her breasts, leaving him free to cover them with his hands. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip and shifted on top of him as he cupped and squeezed and kneaded her breasts and then toyed with her nipples.
"Ye're so beautiful, love," he growled, and raised his knees behind her, tipping her slightly forward and more firmly into his hands.
"So are you," she whispered, opening her eyes and planting her hands on his chest to balance herself as she shifted over him, experimentally lifting herself slightly and then easing back down.
Aulay chuckled with disbelief at the claim, and pinched her nipples lightly as if punishing her for what he considered an untruth, but then said, "Touch yerself."
Jetta only realized her eyes had closed again when those growled words had her blinking them open.
"Go on," he urged, covering her breasts again and squeezing eagerly. "Slide yer hand down and touch yerself. Show me what ye like best."
Jetta swallowed uncertainly, her movements briefly ceasing.
"Please," he added solemnly.
Not wanting to disappoint him, Jetta reluctantly removed one hand from his chest and moved it down to touch herself tentatively.
"Close yer eyes and pretend 'tis me," he urged. "Only ye're directing me hand."
Jetta closed her eyes and pretended it was him caressing her . . . and was surprised to find it did make a little difference. Her fingers now pressed more firmly, and moved around her most sensitive area as he'd done, and then along either side of it and back to go around and round again.
"That's it," Aulay growled. "Aye, move how ye want, lass. Take yer pleasure from me. 'Tis yers."
It was only then Jetta realized she wasn't sliding up and down on him in the same kind of action as he had used with her. Instead, she was all over the place, moving up and down, from side to side, forward and back and her movements were no longer tentative. She was grinding herself into him, riding him willy-nilly, one hand between her legs and one now clasping one of his wrists for balance as he kneaded her breasts. She suspected she was giving him little pleasure with her actions, but damn, it felt good to her, and she was so close . . .
