by Lucy Monroe
She arched against him. She would have come off the bed, but for the weight of his body against hers. “Ian. ”
He continued his ministrations to her breast with his hand while his mouth trailed hot, wet kisses down her neck across her collarbone and to her other breast.
“I love what you do to me. I love you, Ian.” He stilled for a moment and looked into her eyes.
“You are mine.”
She nodded frantically. She would agree to anything to get him to go back to his sweet torture. She never wanted to belong to anyone else. He took her nipple into his mouth. She screamed and he growled with male satisfaction. She could not stand the torment. Her lower body bucked against his, seeking the release she had found in the carriage and at the inn the day Ian had proposed.
His mouth and hands abandoned her and Annabelle’s eyes flew open. She wanted to protest, but could not make herself speak. He tore his shirt off and the rest of his clothes followed quickly. The sight of his vibrantly erect manhood sent shards of desire shooting through her.
Before she could comment, he had lifted her skirts to her waist and settled back on top of her. The feel of his naked hardness against her skin thrilled her. It felt so right.
“Ian, please, do something.”
He kissed her. Within seconds she was writhing under him again, this time her bare legs twining with his. She felt his male hardness at the juncture of her thighs and cried out. She wanted him. All of him.
“Aye, Belle, ’tis time.”
His words came to her through a haze of passion. She barely registered them. He spread her thighs until she was completely open to him. He caressed her inner thighs and she grew feverish with desire for him to move his hand where she was longing for it to be.
Desperate, she grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on the juncture between her thighs.
“Aye, you’re as hot for me as I am for you, Belle.” His fingers slid in and out of her moist passage, spreading the wetness to the rest of her feminine flesh. Soon she was slick with her own excitement. He rubbed against the small nub above her most secret place. Her hands gripped the blankets under her.
Somehow, it was more than before and she did not think she could stand it. “Ian, I cannot bear this.”
He moved until his hardness was at her entrance. Slowly, he began to slip inside. It was the most amazing experience Annabelle had ever known. She gasped as he filled her, joining his body with hers.
He had been right. This was different. This was a miracle. Her body resisted him.
She felt a small amount of pain. She almost cried in frustration. It wasn’t going to work.
“You are too big. Ian, we do not fit.”
“You must trust me.”
She tensed under him. “But it hurts, Ian.”
He continued to press forward. “I know, Belle, but it will only hurt for a little while.” Her pleasure receded as the pain in her body took control. She pulled on his hair. “I don’t like this.”
He leaned down and kissed her with a hot open-mouthed kiss. She remembered the times in the past he had told her to trust him. He had not disappointed her. He must know something she did not. She began to relax again under him. He continued to kiss her until she was once again roaming her hands over his body. She shifted under him, trying to get more comfortable at the invasion.
“Nay, Belle, dinna move, lass, or I will be lost.” Pleasure warred with the pain at their joining. “But I want to.” Groaning, he slid his hand between their bodies and caressed her. Her body tensed, but this time with pleasurable anticipation. She pushed against him, wanting more of his fullness. It still hurt, but her pleasure overrode the pain.
“Aye, lass, that’s right.”
With one final thrust he was inside her. She shouted a protest against the tearing sensation. It hurt! His lips muffled her yell, so she pounded on his back and twisted her mouth away from his. “Stop, Ian, this is not working.” He stopped, his body completely rigid above hers. He looked into her eyes. He leaned down and tenderly licked away her tears. “Do ye trust me, Belle?” How could she not? “Yes, but—”
He would not let her finish. “Then trust me to give you pleasure past the pain. ’Tis only this time that will be this way for you. Do ye believe me?” She nodded. She truly did believe him. Ian would never lie to her.
“Can I move now?” he asked.
The sharp pain had started to recede already. She nodded again, hoping it would be over soon. He moved slightly and she felt another spurt of discomfort and an equal measure of pleasure.
Sweat stood out on his forehead and his face was a mask of tightly held control. It occurred to her that he held himself back with a great deal of effort. Somehow the knowledge dispelled the last of her fears. She moved slightly under him and felt pleasure cascade through her body.
He began to move again, slowly. She did not want him to go slow. She lifted her hips against him demanding that he move faster. He complied. It was not fast enough. She wanted more. She needed more.
“Ian.” She yelled his name.
He thrust against her. Her entire body felt on the verge of a great precipice. Ian gave a shout and climaxed inside her. She went over the precipice. Her body convulsed around him. The sensations went on and on.
“Now you belong to me.”
She would have smiled at his possessive tone, but she was too languid. After the final tremor had shaken her body, she went limp under Ian.
He leaned down and kissed her softly. “Ye can always trust me, Belle.” She smiled. “Yes.”
The weight of his body made it difficult to breathe, but she did not want him to move. Now he belonged to her as well. He lifted himself off her. He walked away and she could not summon the strength to see what he was doing. She nearly jumped off the bed when she felt him wiping her legs with a wet linen.
He finished and threw the linen aside. “Now, can I help you undress?” She laughed. A small amount of concern remained about his reaction to her body.
She was not built like a Cyprian. However, she had to admit that he had seen most of her already. Besides, a man could not fake the kind of passion he had just exhibited.
She stood up. “Very well.”
His eyes filled with tender warmth. He teased her, “Your gown is well and truly crushed now.”
She looked at the white silk ruefully. He was right. It was also ruined. She sighed.
“Do not tell my aunt or Diana. They spent a great deal of the last three days making sure that this dress was just perfect.”
“I’ll no tell. ’Tis a fact that the woman wearing it is more my concern.” She realized that Ian wanted to see her body just as she could see his. She liked his hard masculinity, but found herself unable to take more than sparing glimpses at his nakedness. Perhaps when they had been married longer, she would not be embarrassed to look at his body.
She offered him her back. He reached out and began to untie the ribbons that held her gown together. When he finished, he gently slid the silk over her hips. He did not stop there. Without pausing, he untied her chemise and slipped it off of her. Gooseflesh broke out on her heated skin as her body became completely exposed to Ian’s gaze.
She was afraid to see his reaction and equally afraid not to. Giving herself a short mental lecture on being a goose, she lifted her eyes to meet his. What she saw there made her suck in her breath.
“Ye are beautiful, Belle.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she launched herself at him. He wrapped his arms around her. She felt so perfect. She fit him like the heather fit the meadows around Graenfrae.
She was his.
She sighed against his chest. “This is nice.” It was more than nice, but he wouldn’t frighten her by saying so. Her unexpected timidity about making love had shocked him. She hadn’t shown any of that fear when they had kissed and touched intimately before. There had been more than one point at
which he wasn’t sure he would be able to continue to maste
r his body’s reaction to his wife.
In fact, if she didn’t stop wiggling her naked body against him, his self-control would vanish now. She had no concept of her appeal. When he started to grow hard, he thrust her from him.
“What is the matter?” Her gaze dropped to his rapidly swelling manhood and she sucked in her breath. “Oh.”
“Aye. Where is your sleeping robe? I dinna ken how much good it will do, but I’ll not maul you when you are tender.”
She walked toward him and stopped. She grimaced. “I am a little tender.”
“I ken.”
Her grimace turned to a smile. “You really should do something about your arrogance, you know.”
He shrugged.
She laughed softly. Her small pink and white breasts shivered with her mirth. Where was her bloody nightrobe? He was going to toss her on the bed and ravish her in another moment. Why had he insisted on seeing her perfect body after they had made love? He knew the answer before he asked the question.
Because he needed to.
He stormed over to the wardrobe. Someone had unpacked their clothes and hung them. He grabbed what looked like a sleeping robe and thrust it at Belle. “Put this on.” She obeyed him, chuckling all the while. “Would you have me believe that mere sight of my unremarkable body is enough to throw you into a passionate frenzy?” She thought this amusing? Was not his throbbing manhood testimony enough to his predicament? He growled and she laughed harder. “’Tis the truth, I would put play to your amusement, lass, if I dinna ken how tender you are.” She tied the belt on her robe. Her smile was warm and accepting. “You are a true gentleman, my love.”
Her words poured over him like a healing balm. The discomfort was worth that look of approval in her eyes. He pulled on his breeches, forcing his unruly self into confinement.
She came toward him with a package wrapped in brown paper. “Here.”
He took the present and stared at her.
“Open it,” she instructed.
He ripped the paper off and smiled in wonder at the books on his favorite subjects.
He did not know what to say. No one had ever made an effort to give him such a perfect gift before. His family generally rolled their eyes at his interests. Belle understood.
He swept her into a crushing embrace. “Thank you.” She reached up and kissed the underside of his chin. “You are welcome. I bought them at Hatchards the day Mr. Thorn found us.” She had risked her life and his wrath to buy him a wedding gift. A feeling he did not understand welled up inside. “They are perfect.” She sighed. “I am glad. I wanted so much to please you.” The truth of her words was in her voice. A heady feeling of contentment settled over him. His happiness was important to his new wife. He vowed he would do anything to keep her safe and protect her happiness as well.
She yawned.
“Come, Belle, ’tis time for bed.”
She nodded.
He wanted nothing more than to curl her sweet naked body next to his, but knew he could not stand the temptation. “’Tis best if you wear a sleeping gown.” She gave him a slow, sweet smile. “All right, Ian.” He tortured himself watching her slip off her robe and don the sleeping gown. By the time she was finished, he was panting like he had been chasing footpads.
She climbed into the bed. He blew out the candles in the sconces by the door. He took off his breeches and slid into bed beside her. She lay on the other side, her arms on top of the blankets, stiff as a fire poker.
Ignoring the voice of reason, he hauled her into his arms. She immediately snuggled against him, laying her head against his chest. He blew out the candle by the bed and then resettled her on his chest. Her soft curves were doing things to his noble intentions. “Stop your squirming.”
She stilled. “Is that better?”
Not by much. He still wanted to make love to her more than he wanted to take his next breath. “Aye.”
“Ian?”
He thought she was tired. “What?”
“When will I meet your family?”
His muscles contracted. The thought of introducing Belle to his faithless brother and family who all believed that he had tarnished his honor when he broke his betrothal made him uneasy. It had to be done. He made a decision then. “We will stop by Lansing Hall on our way home.”
“Do they live very close to us?”
Too close. “Aye.”
She played with the hair on his chest. He sucked in his breath. She did not seem to notice. “Do you think Squire Renton killed Mr. Thorn?” He sighed. He dinna want to discuss that foul man on his wedding night. “Aye.”
“Why?”
“He no longer had use for him.”
She shivered. “That is so cold.”
“The man is a bas—blackguard.”
“Yes.”
She was silent for a long while. He hoped she was going to sleep. “Will he come after us?”
He nearly swore at the fear he heard in her voice. “What would be the use? You are now married to me. He canna touch your fortune.” She sighed. “I know.” She let her fingers trail down his chest to his stomach. “He seems unbalanced though, as if he is motivated more than just by greed.” He had a hard time concentrating on her words when her hand was touching him. “I will protect you.”
He thought he heard her say, “Who will protect you?” but his mind was fully occupied with her roving fingers. She was tracing the line of his hair down below his waist. Her hands trailed down to his aching manhood.
“It would appear your problem is not resolved yet, husband.”
“You are too tender.” ’Twas all he could think to say. He wanted desperately for her to disagree.
She curled her fingers around him. He nearly came undone. “Then you will have to be very gentle, won’t you?”
He was gentle. She was demanding and finally they were both satisfied.
When they had found their completion and she lay completely limp beneath him, she sighed. “You were right.”
He could not summon the energy to lift his head and ask what she meant.
She told him anyway. “Making love is more than just touching. I felt my soul linked with yours.”
He smiled in the curve of her shoulder, satisfied.
Ian woke early the next morning. Belle’s body cuddled close to his. Her sleeping gown rode up around her hips. Her naked legs rubbed against his as she squirmed in her sleep. He felt passion stir, but something else as well. Something far more rare and precious.
Contentment.
He could never remember feeling this content. Memories of life at Graenfrae as a child and his father were fleeting. He could only remember snatched images of a giant man carrying Ian as a small boy on his shoulders and the lectures.
His father had drilled Ian’s responsibility to the people of Graenfrae into him. It was that burden of responsibility that had served to make Ian the outsider at Lansing Hall. No matter how kind his stepfather, Ian would never forget his own people. Graenfrae needed him.
As soon as Ian had finished school he had moved to Graenfrae, determined to continue undoing the damage his grandfather’s rebellion had done. His stepfather had insisted that Ian attend local gatherings. The earl had impressed upon Ian that he would need good relationships with his neighbors to make Graenfrae prosper.
It was at one of these gatherings that Ian had met Jenna. Jenna’s Scottish blood and concern for the needs of others had led Ian to ask for her hand in marriage. Besides, she had been beautiful.
Looking at his sleeping wife, Ian wondered how he could ever have been deceived by the charms of faithless Jenna. Belle’s beauty shone through her sparkling eyes and lips
quick to speak her mind. His gaze shifted to the books resting on the table beside the bed.
She wanted to please him.
She loved him.
His hold on her tightened. Her eyes fluttered open and he watched as her expression warmed. She smiled. “Good morning, husband.”
“Good morning, wife.” He lazily caressed her hip.
She nuzzled closer and touched his chest. “This is a very nice way to wake up.”
“Aye.”
“Will we wake up this way every morning, do you think?” He grinned. “God willing.”
She blushed. “I did not mean that.”
“What?”
“Making love. I was not discussing making love, although that is indeed a very pleasant pasttime. I mean to ask, will we share a bedchamber at Graenfrae? Or will I have my own bed and you have yours?” She kept her gaze focused on his neck as she asked the questions.
His reaction to her question took him by surprise. The very idea of her sleeping anywhere but with him left him furious. “We’ll share the master bedroom like my parents.” He took her chin and forced her head up so that he could see into her eyes. “Do you object?”
She shook her head as vigorously as his grip would allow. “No. None. I like waking up in your arms.” She blushed at the admission and he couldn’t resist kissing her.
He spoke against her lips. “Aye, I like waking up with you as well, Belle.” Her hands slid up and clasped behind his neck. She moved her face forward the small space that separated them and kissed him. Her lips were soft and pliant on his. He wanted more. The erotic noises coming from her said she did too. He slipped his tongue into her mouth. Within moments they were lost again in the maelstrom of passion that erupted each time they touched.
Ian’s next coherent thought was that waking up every morning with his passionate wife was going to be exhausting. When he said so, he was surprised that she did not erupt in feminine indignity. The cause was apparent at once. Belle had fallen back asleep. She curled trustingly against him, her body still damp from their lovemaking.
He would have to tease his wife about her stamina. It was his final thought before drifting into oblivion.
The sound of Belle talking to someone woke Ian. His hands instinctively went out to find his wife and met nothing. Belle was not in the bed. The bed curtains, which had been open earlier that morning, were now closed. They cast a shadow of darkness and Ian could not tell how late he had slept.
