Tournament of Hearts

by Alyssa Stark

  “Why?” Isobel asked. Her father’s chambers were the grandest in the keep and she wondered why Tristan had found them unappealing.

  “Two reasons. One, the Laird’s chambers were your father’s. I thought his memories might make living there difficult for ye,” Tristan said softly. “And secondly, because the chamber at the end of the hall is safer.”

  “Oh,” Isobel said with a shy smile. She was touched by Tristan’s care for her feelings.

  “And it is my first priority to keep my wife safe,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her soundly.

  Tristan opened the door to their chamber and carried his wife over the threshold. Isobel’s eyes scanned the room. It was perfect. A large four poster bed dominated the room, causing Isobel to blush as she considered what was to take place tonight. Her body thrummed with anticipation.

  Tristan set Isobel on her feet and went to kindle the fire. There was a small fireplace opposite the giant bed. Isobel watched as Tristan knelt before the hearth. His muscles rippled beneath his linen shirt. Her husband was the absolute picture of male perfection.

  Isobel could scarcely believe that Tristan had won the tournament and that she would get to keep him. He had endured so much for her. He had fought such obstacles for the both of them, so that they could earn this chance to be together. The love that Isobel felt for Tristan caused her heart to race. Isobel’s chest constricted as she watched him kindle the fire in the chamber that they would share from now on. She felt as if her heart might overflow with the love that it garnered for the man before her.

  My husband.

  Tristan stood and brushed his hands on the wool of his kilt. He turned around.

  Isobel felt her face flush. Tristan had caught her admiring his beautiful body.

  He smiled alluringly. “What were ye thinking about, love?” he asked.

  “You,” Isobel responded innocently.

  “Aye?” Tristan asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “I was just thinking that I get to keep you,” she breathed sweetly.

  Tristan stalked towards her with love shining deep in his hazel eyes. He gathered Isobel in his arms, delighting in the soft curves of her body as he enclosed her into his embrace.

  “And I get to keep you,” he whispered huskily as he smiled down at his wife. “I had my heart set on you from the verra beginning,” Tristan admitted as he trailed his fingers lightly down Isobel’s cheek.

  Isobel stood on her tip toes and captured Tristan’s lips in a gentle kiss. She felt his muscular chest and thighs pressed against the length of her body, which caused a new feeling to burn deep within her. As Tristan’s mouth arched over hers, that feeling grew. He kindled the desire growing within her as expertly as he had kindled the hearth fire.

  Isobel was no longer afraid of what would happen tonight.

  Because what would happen tonight would happen with Tristan.

  She ran her fingers down the muscled planes of Tristan’s chest.

  He took in a swift breath. Isobel’s gentle touch affected him greatly. He felt her slender fingers at the waist of his kilt. His muscles trembled as Isobel un-tucked his linen shirt.

  Isobel’s heart pounded in her chest. She glanced up at Tristan, meeting his eyes for a scant instant. The desire burning in his hazel eyes told her that what she was doing affected him greatly, but that it was alright. Holding Tristan’s steely gaze, Isobel grasped the tails of Tristan’s shirt and slid the shirt up and over his head. She wanted to feel his bare skin beneath her fingertips.

  Tristan shucked out of his shirt and tossed it carelessly on the floor.

  Isobel’s palms flattened against his chest.

  Tristan’s muscles tensed beneath her gentle fingertips. He was encouraged by Isobel’s bold exploration of his body but her touch maddened him. His breathing was ragged as Isobel trailed her fingers lightly over his bare skin.

  She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Tristan’s collar bone. His skin was warm beneath her lips. She could smell his enticing and thoroughly masculine scent.

  The fire within her was raging now and Tristan had barely touched her.

  Tristan could take no more of his sweet wife’s innocent torment.

  He brought his lips against hers, soft and gentle at first. His tongue traced her lower lip. Isobel’s sweet mouth caused his body to tremble with need. She was so innocent and yet so trusting. Tristan knew that Isobel knew nothing of the intimate relations between a man and a woman and yet her lightest touch was akin to that of a siren.

  Tristan nibbled playfully at Isobel’s lower lip. When she moaned against his mouth and pressed her body against his bare chest, Tristan momentarily lost his fragile control. He growled low in his throat and then claimed her mouth passionately, showing her with his kiss how much he desired her.

  Isobel felt Tristan’s hands at the laces of her gown. He tore himself away from her mouth and kissed her eyelids, her cheek, and her neck as he struggled with her laces.

  “I canna untie them,” he chuckled into Isobel’s hair. “If ye doona help me, I’ll tear ye right out of yer wedding gown.”

  Isobel laughed. She reached behind her back, her hands gliding over Tristan’s. Deftly, she untied the laces and loosened the corset of her gown. She was completely bare beneath it, and her heart raced in her chest at the thought of standing naked in front of her husband.

  Tristan’s hands spanned Isobel’s back. He gently loosened the corset of the gown, sliding his fingers in between the laces to delight in the softness of Isobel’s skin. His eyes locked with hers as he began to slide the heavy silk gown down over her lush curves.

  Tristan’s heart thundered in his chest. His cock bucked in anticipation.

  His eyes drifted to Isobel’s body.

  He slid the gown lower, exposing Isobel’s beautiful breasts. The backs of his fingers brushed the sides of her breasts as he continued to remove her gown. It took every ounce of his control not to cup her breasts in his hands and take her up thrust pink nipples into his mouth. He knew that Isobel had never been touched so intimately by a man. Knowing that he would be the first man, the only man to touch his wife lit his blood afire.

  Isobel’s breathing was shaky. Her eyes were trained on Tristan as he undressed her.

  Tristan’s fingers brushed the delicate curve of Isobel’s waist.

  He slid the gown lower yet.

  His fingers glided over the lush curve of Isobel’s hips.

  The gown pooled in a pile of ice blue silk at Isobel’s feet, revealing the lovely thatch of blonde curls that shielded Isobel’s womanhood.

  Tristan brought his fingers up reverently and traced the soft curve of Isobel’s waist.

  He felt her shudder.

  Gooseflesh broke out on her skin.

  Tristan’s gaze was heated as his eyes danced over her skin.

  Isobel stood completely naked and unabashed in front of her husband.

  She closed her eyes and relished Tristan’s worshipful touch.

  His fingers trailed over her alabaster skin lovingly. They danced over the curve of her bottom and he cupped her gently, pulling her towards his chest.

  “You are so beautiful, Bella,” Tristan whispered. His voice was deeper from his passion and was filled with awe.

  Isobel rested her cheek against Tristan’s chest. She inhaled his masculine scent.

  “Make me your wife,” she whispered against his heat.

  Tristan’s heart clenched in his chest. He lifted Isobel in his arms and strode towards the giant bed. Laying Isobel gently atop the fur coverlet, Tristan admired her beauty before settling himself on top of her.

  He kissed her now, nearly blinded by his passion.

  His cock bucked anxiously with need to fill her.

  Isobel wrapped her arms around Tristan’s neck. The solid weight of him on top of her, the delicious feel of his muscular chest and thighs pinning her to the bed was ecstasy. Her body was overwhelmed with new, pleasurable sensations. Tristan’s mouth was
hot upon her skin. He trailed kisses lightly down her neck, over her collarbone.

  And what he did next stoked the fire burning within Isobel into a raging inferno.

  Tristan cupped Isobel’s breast in his palm. He needed to taste her perfection.

  When he flicked his tongue over Isobel’s up thrust nipple, a surge of immeasurable pleasure zipped down her spine.

  She moaned loudly and scored her nails down the flesh of Tristan’s back.

  When Tristan began to suckle her, Isobel was sure that she had died and gone to heaven! Never had she imaged such a delicious sensation.

  Tristan worshipped her breasts, kissing and licking her nipples until they stood erect from his touch. His cock ached with need to be inside of her, bust he cast aside the needs of his own body.

  Isobel’s pleasure would come first.

  He rose above her and looked into her blue eyes. Isobel’s eyes were clouded with passion, passion that Tristan had kindled within her. She had a look of raw wonderment on her beautiful face. Tristan smiled warmly at her and trailed his fingers over her belly. He circled her navel languidly and then slid his fingers lower.

  When his fingers danced over the blonde curls that shielded Isobel’s virginity, Isobel gasped. Tristan’s lightest touch sent ripples of pleasure thrumming through her whole body. Her muscles began to quiver with anticipation. It was as if the fire within her was about to consume her.

  And then Tristan touched her there.

  Isobel gasped as Tristan’s fingers parted her. He growled at the wetness that he found between her thighs. His fingers stroked her, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through Isobel’s body.

  Isobel was so hot, so wet. Tristan fought his aching need to join with her. He wanted to drive his cock deep within her, making her fully his own. His cock strained against the fabric of his kilt.

  He needed to be inside of her.

  Now.

  Tristan rolled off of Isobel and removed his kilt. He moved himself between her thighs. His fingers brushed over Isobel’s heat again, stroking the sensitive nub hidden in her most intimate flesh.

  “Tristan!” Isobel cried out. She raked her fingernails over the skin of his back, his shoulders.

  She wanted more. She needed more!

  Tristan took his cock in his hand and positioned it at the entrance of Isobel’s sheath. He knew that she would be hot and tight. His cock bucked as he imagined how she would squeeze him as he entered her.

  “Bella,” he rasped huskily. “Look at me, Bella,” he insisted. It took every ounce of Tristan’s control to stop himself from driving into her right then.

  Isobel’s blue eyes flashed open. Her lips were parted and her breath came in wanting pants.

  “I want you to look at me when I take ye,” Tristan said.

  “Make me your wife,” Isobel said wantonly.

  Holding her gaze, Tristan thrust into her, tearing through the barrier of her virginity. He growled as his body was overcome with a blinding wave of pleasure. Isobel was so wet, so tight, just as he had imagined that she would be.

  And she was crying.

  He had hurt her.

  “It will feel better in a moment,” Tristan said tenderly through gritted teeth. “I’m so sorry that I’ve hurt ye, love,” he whispered as he kissed her tears away.

  Isobel felt as if Tristan had just split her in half. He filled her so completely, stretching her to the point of pain with his invasion.

  She wrapped her arms about his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. Tristan’s scent calmed her.

  Tristan’s muscles quivered with the effort that it took to remain still within Isobel. He would give her time to adjust. Every masculine instinct told him to move, to drive into her, to seat himself to the hilt and spill his seed deep within her womb.

  He fought against the instincts of his body mightily.

  He would give Isobel time to adjust.

  Isobel took in a shaky breath. She moved her knees up slightly.

  Tristan gritted his teeth and buried his face in Isobel’s hair. That didn’t help. She smelled like lavender. Her scent was so thoroughly arousing that Tristan did not know how much longer he could hold out. His muscles were tense. His teeth were clenched.

  Isobel felt the delicious tickle of Tristan’s chest against her nipples. A wave of pleasure zipped through her body. She moved her hips slightly.

  Tristan’s breathing was ragged.

  She couldn’t move, not like that if she wanted him to remain still!

  Isobel moved again.

  She felt the fire rekindle within her.

  She kissed Tristan’s neck.

  Holding his weight on his elbows, Tristan looked down at his wife.

  Isobel smiled slightly, her eyes again clouded with desire.

  “Is it alright, love?” Tristan asked hopefully. He knew not how much longer he could remain still.

  “Aye,” Isobel whispered as she moved her hips experimentally. She closed her eyes as a wave of pleasure sent goose flesh rippling over her skin. “It’s alright,” she whispered. “Better than alright,” she smiled.

  Her words were all of the invitation that Tristan needed.

  He withdrew himself almost fully and then slid inch by delicious inch into Isobel’s heat. She consumed him, fueling his passion with the way that she innocently squeezed his cock.

  Isobel moaned against his shoulder. Tristan withdrew himself again and entered her powerfully, seating himself to the hilt in her sheath.

  Isobel cried out with pleasure. Her pain was gone, completely replaced with pleasure as she felt Tristan’s cock imbedded deep within her. He drove into her powerfully now, heightening her pleasure with each stroke of his manhood. Never had Isobel experienced such a complete, all consuming feeling.

  Tristan slid his hand between their joined bodies and found the bead of Isobel’s desire. He stroked her, flicking his finger expertly over her clitoris as he sank his cock into her again and again.

  Isobel arched against him, allowing him to sink even deeper into her heat.

  “Tristan!” she moaned as her inner muscles began to tremor.

  Tristan was lost in his passion. He drove into Isobel with unflagging joy, seeking only to bring her more and more pleasure. He increased the cadence of their love making, driving her closer to the brink of her release.

  Isobel felt as though the fire within her was consuming them both now. Its flames danced around their joined bodies, heating their blood as they became lost in their love making.

  She clasped her arms around Tristan’s neck as she found her release. Her body trembled as waves of pleasure consumed her, resounding deep within her very soul. She moaned against Tristan’s neck as her body shook with the uncontrollable spasms of her orgasm.

  “Tristan!” she screamed.

  Tristan felt the power of Isobel’s orgasm, which spurred his own release. He withdrew himself fully and then plunged into Isobel, pumping twice more before seating himself to the hilt and spilling his seed deep within her womb. He growled in ecstasy as he came inside of his wife. His muscles contracted and trembled with the overwhelming nature of his release.

  Never in his life had Tristan felt such a response to a woman.

  Regaining control of himself, he rose up onto his elbows so that he could look upon Isobel.

  “Are ye alright, love?” he asked tenderly as he stroked Isobel’s face.

  “Aye,” Isobel said with an awestruck smile. “I didn’t know!” she gasped as her blue eyes searched Tristan’s face.

  “Now you do,” Tristan chuckled as he nuzzled his wife’s blonde curls. They were deliciously disheveled and he reveled in the joy of how they had gotten that way. “I do love ye, Bella,” he whispered as he nipped at her earlobe.

  Isobel captured Tristan’s face between her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes. She could still feel him inside of her. Never had she felt so loved, so joined both physically and emotionally with another person.

 
“I love you, Husband,” she whispered as she drew Tristan’s mouth towards hers. Tearing her mouth away from Tristan’s, Isobel placed her palm flat against the center of his chest. “And I feel like half of my heart beats here in your chest.”

  “Then I’ll endeavor tae take good care of your heart, Bella,” Tristan whispered with a lop-sided smile. “Because you have stolen mine completely.”

  ..oo Chapter Nineteen oo..

  Isobel awoke in a panic.

  Her limbs were trapped and she was completely unable to move. Her eyes flew open and scanned the unfamiliar chamber, her breath hitching in her constricted throat.

  Tristan.

  The corner of her mouth turned up into a blissful smile. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light of morning and she shifted her head slightly so that she could look upon her husband. The novelty of waking up next to Tristan was decadent. She felt like a new woman entirely. There was a dull ache deep inside of her from when Tristan had entered her. Isobel’s inner muscles pulsed with anticipation. She was a bit sore, but it was of no consequence.

  She wanted to feel her husband inside of her again.

  Isobel lay upon her back, pinned to the feather mattress by her husband. No wonder she had not been able to move.

  Tristan was fast asleep with his arm wrapped protectively underneath her breasts and his hand resting on her shoulder. His leg trapped both of her own, securing her to the mattress with its muscular weight. Isobel curled her toes in delight and relished the solid weight of Tristan heavy against her body. He was all strength and power and yet he had been so very gentle with her last night.

  Isobel could not move and she couldn’t have been happier.

  She tilted her head and looked over at Tristan, his face only inches from hers on the pillow. The dim light of morning made him appear young, almost boyish as he slept. His dark lashes rested upon his cheeks and his lips were parted slightly. Isobel watched as his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids and the corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile that was barely perceptible. He was dreaming. Isobel hoped that he was dreaming about her.

  Her eyes traced the rugged line of his jaw which was dotted with the night’s growth of stubble. Isobel fought the sudden urge to trace her finger down his jaw line, which was currently not possible as her hand was trapped beneath the weight of her husband.