Munro lifted Sarah off his lap and stood. “All arranged. Ye’ll stay here this night with Giles, and move to the shop on the morrow.”
Luke swayed, staring at Munro. “Here? In this room?”
“Aye.”
He rubbed his eyes. “In this bed?”
“Aye.”
Luke climbed back onto the bed, toed off his shoes and crawled to lay his head on the pillow.
Sarah tucked him in and smoothed his hair off his face. “He’s dropped off already.”
Munro stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “Too exhausted to take it all in.”
“Don’t worry,” Giles piped up. “He’s not used to a bed. I found him asleep in an empty stall in the stables. I’ll explain it again when he wakes up on the morrow.”
“Good lad,” Munro replied, patting him on the back.
Giles hugged him, then Sarah. “Good night,” he murmured with a wink. “Sleep tight.”
All In Good Time
Munro and Sarah followed Richards through the kitchens and left The Swan by way of the rear entrance. He thanked the landlord again for all his trouble.
“No trouble. Yon Addison’s got more money than God. If he wants to spend it here, well…”
Huddled together arm in arm, they walked briskly down Edgbaston Street. “What kind of a world is it,” he asked sadly, “when the prospect of sleeping in a proper bed knocks a lad off his feet? I dinna think he got as far as understanding what we said about Scotland.”
“The foreign land, you mean?” she quipped.
“Aye, I hope ye’re prepared to live among barbarians.”
“I canna wait,” she replied, imitating his brogue as she handed the key over to him. “My little domain is your home now, for a while anyway.”
He unlocked the door and carried her over the threshold, filling his lungs with the herbal aromas.
She laughed. “I do the same thing every time I come into the shop. It’s soothing.”
“Aye,” he agreed, “I’ll learn to tell one smell from another in time.”
He turned to face the stairs, but she wriggled to be put down. “They’re too steep.”
He set her on her feet. “As ye wish, my lady wife.”
She wandered into the shop itself, taking off her shawl. “We may not be here much longer.”
“Ye sound wistful about that, but what are ye nay telling me?”
“It will be hard to leave. I love what I do. But my place is in Scotland, with you—barbarians notwithstanding.”
He took off his cloak with a flourish. “And?”
“It was something Addison said. I get the feeling he’s searching for a buyer.”
He removed his hat and scratched his head. “The mon never ceases to amaze me. He certainly is grateful for yer defense of his son.”
“We’ll see. Now, husband, can I lead you to bed?”
His eyes widened. “Music to my ears.”
Love had loosened Sarah’s tongue. She’d become a flirtatious wanton. However, love wasn’t the only reason for the changes. Trust played the bigger part. She trusted Munro and knew he would never let her down. It was a stunning realization for a woman who’d been betrayed by everyone in whom she’d ever put her faith. She lifted the hem of her skirts and hurried up the stairs, Munro in hot pursuit.
He caught her at the top. His momentum carried them both to the bed where she collapsed onto her back, giggling like a child. He loomed over her on hands and knees, his eyes bright with desire. “Ye canna escape, Sarah Pendray.”
“I dinna wish to,” she replied, fighting to regain her breath.
They gazed at each other for long moments, before he loosened the ties of her coif and eased it off. “I love yer hair,” he breathed.
She reached up to run her fingers over the stubble on his face. “I love everything about you.”
Nostrils flaring, he slowly lowered his head to kiss her. Intoxicated by the taste of the rich, red wine from the goblet, she draped her arms around his neck and surrendered to the pure pleasure of moist, hungry lips. Their tongues mated playfully. The warmth of his skin heated her body.
He rained kisses the length of her neck, then brushed his lips across the swell of her breasts. “Let’s get rid of these clothes,” he rasped. “I want to see my wife.”
He backed off the bed, pulling her upright as he stood. She expected to be gathered into his arms, but he quickly shrugged off his tunic and waistcoat before yanking the shirt over his head. She gazed at his sculpted beauty, swaying until he put his hands on her upper arms and looked her in the eyes. “I intend to make love to ye, Sarah, but I’m nay a mon to take my pleasure and leave my wife wanting. I meant it when I vowed to worship ye with my body.”
She blinked away welling tears. He sensed without being told she’d known only degradation with Reginald. “I hope to prove worthy of your adoration,” she whispered, flattening her palms against his chest.
His growl echoed in her womb. “Ye will be. I just dinna want ye to fear intimacy with me.”
She cupped his face in her hands. “I long for it, Munro Pendray.”
Smiling, he slipped the straps of the red frock off her shoulders, but the tight bodice remained in place. He smoothed his hands over her breasts, looking puzzled. “I’m nay an expert with ladies’ garments.”
It was unlikely he appreciated the reassurance his words provided. He was no philanderer. The brush of his thumbs over her nipples bolstered her courage. “You can watch me undress, if you wish.”
His eyes darkened, but he made no reply as he sat on the edge of the bed, his long fingers curled into the mattress.
She thought to begin with her boots. However, she normally sat on the bed to complete the task. That wouldn’t work. Neither would the chair. She hopped about on one foot, trying to look sophisticated as she unbuckled the strap.
A grin tugged at the corners of Munro’s mouth.
“I’m not good at this,” she admitted, feeling dizzy.
He patted the bed. “Let me help.”
He came to his knees on the planked floor as she sat and lifted one foot.
She’d never considered shoe removal a sensuous act, but it quickly became arousing as Munro lingered over unfastening the straps and slowly slipping off each boot. She groaned with pleasure when he kneaded his thumbs into the soles of her feet.
“Shall I help ye with the hose?” he offered, his hands already halfway up her thighs.
The muscles in a very private place pulsed of their own accord as he rolled the garters down her legs, then the stockings. When he kissed her toes, she whimpered and reached for his broad shoulders.
But he shook his head and sat back on the bed. “Ye promised I could watch.”
Her heart sang at the prospect of a future with a man who liked to tease. Was she brave enough to tease him back?
She stood, reached for the hem of her frock, and slowly peeled it up her legs, over her hips, and past her waist, then paused. He couldn’t fail to notice the effect crossing her arms had wrought on her breasts. “The bodice is too tight,” she lamented, fluttering her eyelashes in what she hoped was a provocative manner.
The arch of his eyebrows indicated he knew she was toying with him, but he came to the rescue, easing the fabric bit by bit over her breasts and lifting it over her head. “Temptress,” he whispered, swirling his tongue over a nipple straining against the linen smock.
She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling the sensations rippling through her body as she plucked up courage to remove the smock.
Suddenly, her arms were in the air and the garment was in Munro’s hands. “Oh,” she exclaimed, struggling not to give in to the urgent need to cover her nakedness. She prayed the bruises had faded, that he didn’t find her too fat, or too thin, or…
“Ye’re more beautiful even than I imagined,” he rasped, taking her into his embrace, “but ye’re shivering.”
“From the cold,” she replied, melting with relief.
“I have just the thing to warm ye,” he said, holding her hand to his arousal.
She moved her fingers on him, but he lifted her onto the bed. “All in good time,” he whispered. “First, I want to taste ye.”
Munro toyed with the notion of removing his trouzes, but the garment was the last obstacle remaining between his rampant shaft and Sarah’s warm sheath. He intended to give them both as much pleasure as possible before his tarse had its way.
He raked his eyes over her perfection, marred only by faint traces of bruising on her arms and legs. They were hallmarks of her will to survive unbroken and he thanked God for saving her from Reginald North’s brutality. However, he would never mention the man nor remind Sarah of him in any way, especially in her bridal bed. He prayed he would be equal to the task of erasing all memory of her first marriage this night.
She frowned when he put his arms around her calves and pulled her to the edge of the mattress.
“We’ll do naught ye dinna wish to,” he promised as he knelt, hoping his aching shaft was paying attention now he had set eyes on the pink folds of Sarah’s most intimate place. Earlier, he’d risked mentioning his thirst to taste her. She’d seemed titivated by the prospect, so he persevered, parting her nether lips with his thumbs before bending his head to suckle.
Her honeyed juices filled his senses. The whimpering sounds that emerged from her throat echoed in his sac. He flicked his tongue over the swelling bud, contentedly certain she was nearing a pinnacle as the mewling became more frenzied.
He tightened his hold on her legs when she screamed loud and long, arching off the bed, the linens clutched in her fisted hands. Watching her savor the euphoria of her release nigh on brought him to tears. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
Sarah slowly drifted back to earth and opened her eyes. Munro had lifted her to previously unknown heights of ecstasy, but there was yet something she craved. “Fill me,” she whispered, awed by the love in his gaze—and the thickness of the proud lance jutting from his body. He’d evidently removed his trews while she’d been soaring and now knelt between her legs.
“I screamed,” she murmured.
“Aye,” he said with a smile, “I loved it.” He lifted her hips. “Put yer legs around me. I want to bury myself deep inside ye. Ready?”
Bracing for pain, she nodded as he positioned the swollen tip of his manhood at her opening. However, she wasn’t prepared for the exquisite sensations as he slowly penetrated, then withdrew, then went deeper. “Munro,” she breathed as every slow thrust carried her closer and closer to another crescendo.
His body heated. They fell into a faster rhythm, matching each other stroke for stroke, growl for growl. She recognized the signs of an impending male release. She’d gritted her teeth and waited for it often enough. Now, she and Munro were locked in a journey to ecstatic release that would bond them forever.
“Come with me,” he exclaimed, as his seed erupted from his body. She teetered on the edge of something monumental. She was falling…falling, but he held her fast as she tumbled.
Every Inch
Munro basked in a glow of contentment. Satisfying his male needs had brought him physical release, but joining his body with Sarah’s had been akin to a spiritual awakening.
He wanted to stay inside her forever, but his tarse eventually curled up happily in the warm nest of her moist folds.
He became aware she was tracing circles on his back, lifting up on his elbows when he realized he was lying with his full weight on her. She was smiling, languidly, like a woman well-bedded. He suddenly felt smug. “Did ye enjoy that?” he asked confidently.
She chuckled, deep in her throat, twirling a finger in his hair. “I’m drunk with happiness. You’ve intoxicated me.”
He laughed, lifting her to lie atop him as he turned onto his back. “And I plan to keep ye in a permanent state of intoxication.”
Straddling his hips, she nestled her head against his neck and molded her breasts to his chest. “Can we do it again?” she asked, bathing his shaft with warm wetness.
“Sooner rather than later, if ye keep that up” he replied, offering a silent prayer of thanks he’d banished one of Sarah’s demons. The prospect of a lifetime of marital bliss made him giddy. He moved Sarah to his side and spooned his body around her. “We’ll sleep for a wee while.”
She reached for the candle lantern, but he stayed her hand. “Leave it. I want to watch yer face when we make love again.”
Sunlight was filtering into the apartment from the shop downstairs when Sarah woke, cocooned in Munro’s warm embrace. She’d lost count of the number of times they’d made love during the night, but she wanted more.
His steady breathing seemed to indicate he was still asleep, but she gently moved her foot up and down his calf, relishing the soft, dark hair, so unlike her own legs.
The sound of another person breathing suddenly became vitally important. It was as though she and Munro breathed together, for each other, in unison. She closed her eyes again and thought of Henry Marten lying abed, listening to Mary’s breathing. It was a strangely comforting notion.
“What are ye thinking?” Munro asked lazily, kissing her shoulder.
“That I want to lie in bed forever just listening to you breathe.”
He chuckled. “’Tis all ye require of me?”
She turned to face him, draping one leg over his. “No. I have other husbandly duties in mind.”
He kissed her nose. “Making porridge, mayhap?”
“Aye.”
He traced a thumb along her lower lip. “Rekindling the stoves?”
“Aye,” she replied, already losing control of her hips.
“Fetching water from the pump?”
“Aye,” she laughed, letting her hand wander down his belly to his manhood. A compulsion to take his hard arousal into her mouth seized her. She threw back the linens, knelt between his legs and licked the swollen tip.
“Ye dinna have to,” he rasped, but his eyes betrayed his longing. “I—”
He groaned when she enveloped his length, savoring the salty taste, the aroma of a man in lust with his wife. She could scarcely believe the transformation in herself. Sarah North had metamorphosed into a sensual woman who craved every inch of the man she loved.
Munro Pendray had banished the ghost of years of physical and emotional abuse.
She was free.
Our Bairns
Sarah and Munro enjoyed bowls of oatmeal in bed. “I’ve never been served breakfast in bed before,” she admitted.
“I’ll wager ye’ve never kent a mon who could make porridge,” he replied.
“True,” she said around a delicious mouthful. “It tastes better than mine. What’s your secret?”
He tapped the side of his nose. “Mine to keep, although I might divulge it—for a price.”
“Later,” she admonished. “I’m getting worried about Giles and Luke. It’s nigh on noon.”
They rose and made themselves ready for the walk to The Swan, but when they reached the front door, a stranger stood in the street, hand raised ready to knock.
“Do folk nay ken we’re on our honeymoon?” Munro asked belligerently.
Sarah touched his cheek.“Be patient. He looks vaguely familiar.”
Still pouting, he turned the key. “We’re closed,” he explained.
“The shop will be open on the morrow,” Sarah added. “We’re newly wed just yesterday.”
The man fidgeted with the hat in his hands. “I know, and I apologize, but Mr. Addison suggested this would be a good day to come. I’m Thaddeus Baxter.”
The name stirred a memory.
Munro bristled, but locked the door after she beckoned Baxter into the shop.
“We’re already late for an appointment,” she said. “What is it you want?”
Baxter turned to Munro. “I’ve a proposition to make,” he said. “To buy the shop.”
“Then ye’d best speak to
my wife,” he replied.
Baxter was clearly surprised that a man would defer to a woman, but Sarah was tempted to fling her arms around Munro’s neck and rain kisses on his scowling face.
“I already own an apothecary shop, in Deritend. I’ve wanted to expand into this part of Birmingham, and Mr. Addison—”
“Deritend?” Munro asked.
“The other side of Digbeth,” Sarah explained, understanding now why the man seemed familiar. Reginald had once brought him to the shop after the annual Guild meeting. “Mr. Addison gave you the impression I want to sell?”
Baxter’s eyes darted to Munro then back to her. “I understood you intend to move to Scotland. Perhaps Addison is mistaken.”
“We’d consider offers, but my husband is quite taken with Birmingham. He’s a history buff.”
As she’d hoped, Munro kept silent.
“I see,” Baxter replied, scratching his chin. “Well, I thought to offer a hundred guineas.”
It was more than she could have hoped for in her wildest dreams but, if he wanted the shop badly enough…“Are you in good standing with the Guild?” she asked.
“The Beadle will vouch for me. The missus is also an apothecary and she helps in the shop. I’ve two keen apprentices as well.”
Evidently, Baxter ran a successful enterprise.
“What about my apprentice?”
“To be honest, I’d prefer just to bring one of my current lads.”
She made a show of slowly tapping the heavy black key in her palm. “And how soon would you want to take over—if we can agree on a price? You understand that moving to Scotland takes some preparation. We cannot simply leave at a moment’s notice.”
Munro coughed into his fist and wandered off into the workroom, whistling.
Baxter drummed his fingers on the countertop, gazing around at her well-ordered domain. “I was here once before,” he said. “I’ve thought about it ever since. I mentioned it to Addison when I heard of Mr. North’s passing.”
Kingslayer's Daughter (The House of Pendray Book 2) Page 22
