by Amanda Scott
His mother was by nature a kind woman, if a fragile one. He knew that the shock of his father’s death had undone her. As Meg had predicted, she did insist that it was too soon for a wedding, let alone one that no one had expected to occur at all.
“I have promised Molly my protection, Mam,” he had said in response. “You would not want me to break my word. Nor would you want to upset her by refusing to witness our marriage.”
Lady Scott had agreed that whatever had happened was no fault of Molly’s, and that had been that… for the nonce.
Noting that Molly stood alone, looking rather forlorn, he excused himself to his kinswomen and went to her.
“You look beautiful, lass,” he said warmly. “I do like that dress, and I like your hair all loose and hanging down your back like that, too.”
“Emma said that was how it ought to be,” she said with a nervous smile. “Are you still sure about this, sir?”
“I am,” he said, gesturing to Father Eamon to get on with it.
The ceremony was over so quickly, compared to the seemingly unending horror of her first experience, that Molly was unsure that she was married. She could see that its brevity stunned Wat, too.
Her previous ceremony, she realized with surprise, had likely been the same one. She recalled little of it beyond the pain of Will’s fist in her hair and the abrupt declaration of Father Jonathan’s that she and Tuedy were husband and wife.
She had been helpless then. Now she felt safe and increasingly confident.
After Father Eamon had declared them husband and wife, he added in stentorian tones to the rest of the hall, “My ladies, my friends and kinsmen, I present to you Walter Scott, Lord of Buccleuch and Rankilburn, and Lady Scott.”
Feeling heat flood her cheeks, Molly stared blindly ahead of her until the assembled company began to cheer and to gabble among themselves. Seeing only smiles and nods then, she relaxed.
When Wat put a strong, possessive arm around her shoulders, she looked up at him with a grin.
“I brung ye some good claret, laird, and m’lady,” Sym murmured, appearing beside them with two silver goblets. “I thought ye might like some afore ye… that is, afore his lordship has to leave.”
Wat nodded but not, Molly noted, without first shooting her a speculative look. “ ’Twas a good notion, Sym,” he said then. “Here, lass, drink some of this,” he added, taking one of the goblets from Sym and handing it to her.
She sipped obediently but handed it back to him. “With respect, my lord, I’d liefer keep my head clear.”
He leaned closer and murmured, “The wine will help you relax, Molly, so drink some more. Remember, we still have our connubial duty to see to.”
Heat swept through her, but she said the first thing that came into her head. “Surely, not yet. Do we just leave everyone? I… I couldn’t! Just the thought…”
When she paused, he said, “Sym, tell the lads I want to be away soon after we dine. Meantime, what did you do with that wine jug?”
“ ’Tis yonder on the high table,” Sym said, pointing toward the end farthest from the makeshift alter.
Molly noted distractedly that servants were clearing the altar away to make way for the midday meal. But thoughts of what Wat had described as coupling made thinking of anything else difficult. Then he put a hand to her shoulder and urged her toward the stairs.
The warmth of that hand penetrated her skin and spread through her body, making it impossible to think at all.
Wat did not speak. He picked up the jug from the table in passing and guided her toward the privy stairs without a word to excuse them from the company.
She thought she should protest, but words failed her when he urged her ahead of him up the stairs. Conscious of his footsteps on the treads behind her, and his breathing, she realized she felt none of the fear she had felt with Tuedy.
Her emotions had stuck somewhere between chaos and keen anticipation.
Just before they reached his bedchamber landing, she wondered what he would do first. Might he expect her to do something to him? If so, what? Could she just ask him? Would he kiss her? He hadn’t done so since that first time.
The thought nearly stopped her in her tracks, because with it came a wave of desire unlike anything she had ever known. She wanted him to kiss her again.
On the thought, she turned to face him and discovered that she was not yet eye-to-eye with him when she did. He’d stopped a step below her but was still a few inches taller. His mouth was right before her eyes.
Looking up into his eyes, she saw a twinkle.
“There’s no escape now, lass,” he said with a half-smile tugging his lips.
“I don’t want to escape,” she said. “I want you to kiss me again.”
He drew her into his arms then and touched his lips to hers. When she responded, he kissed her more thoroughly. He had just eased his tongue through the opening of her mouth when Sym’s voice sounded from below.
“Laird, Geordie’s just talked to a chap wha’ says the gallous Rutherford be a-heading toward Edgerston and Jed Water. He left others to keep watch, but they be hours away from here, so the chap says ye’ll want to hie yourself.”
“I must see to my lady wife first,” Wat said. “Have the horses ready and be sure we have oatcakes aplenty, and apples. I’m going to miss my wedding feast.”
“Please, sir,” Molly said. “Surely, we need not make such haste. I ken fine that you are not anything like Tuedy, but…”
He grimaced. “I don’t blame you for your uncertainty, Molly-lass. By my troth, the last thing I want to do is frighten you. But we must consummate our marriage now. Otherwise, if something should happen to me…”
Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes. She squeezed them shut and turned swiftly away to hurry upstairs, hoping that Wat had not seen them.
Chapter 16
Noting Molly’s tears, Wat glanced back to be sure that Sym could not see the two of them. Then, concerned lest she return to her own chamber, he followed quickly but saw that she had stopped on the landing outside his bedchamber.
She stood silently there, staring at the door.
“Don’t cry,” he murmured.
“I’m not, not really,” she said just as quietly, without looking at him. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Relieved, he reached past her, unlatched the door, and pushed it open. The bed was ready, its coverlet and quilts turned down in welcome. His thoughts sped to the duty that lay before them, and his body stirred in eager anticipation.
Molly stepped inside and stopped, gazing either at his bed, against the wall opposite the door, or at nothing in particular. Wat could not tell which it might be.
Shutting the door, he slid the bolt home quietly and moved up behind her.
When he put his hands on her shoulders, he expected her to stiffen as she had before. Instead, she stood as she was… silently.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
She turned then, her gaze solemnly meeting his. Her eyes were clear, her tears gone. “I do trust you,” she muttered. “I will do as you say.”
Wat felt an absurd urge to shake her, but he realized that his frustration was with himself, not with her. He said, “I dislike this haste, too, Molly. Consummating a marriage is not an act that anyone should do hastily, certainly not with an inexperienced maiden. I want us—both of us—to enjoy coupling, and I fear that if we rush this, you will hate it and perhaps fear it even more than you do now.”
Still looking into his eyes, she said, “I don’t fear you, sir, truly. But, although I know you want only to protect me from Tuedy, such haste discomfits me.”
He could think of no way to convince her quickly that she would enjoy coupling. Therefore, aware that each minute with her was a minute he lost in finding Rutherford, he exerted himself to seek a compromise that might address her feelings and his need to be away quickly.
“I can make it easier for you,” he said at last. “First,
though, do you recall when I asked if Lady Meg had examined you to see if you were still intact?”
“I remember the question. But since I do not know what you meant—”
“Maidens have a sort of barrier a short way inside them that breaks during their first coupling and thus ends their maidenhood. You may have heard tales of a man returning his bride to her father in disgrace because the man discovered on their wedding night that she was not intact.”
She shook her head. “I never heard of such a thing. Do you mean that a man can marry a woman and then give her back?”
“Only if she is no longer intact. A new husband views such a breach as proof that the woman has lain with another man before him.”
She looked thoughtful. “So, if you were to breach mine,” she said slowly, “would Tuedy no longer want me?” Before he could think how to reply to that, she added, “Is there no way to breach me without behaving like animals?”
“I could do it with my fingers,” he admitted. “But, should anyone ask me afterward if we had consummated our union, I could not honestly say that we had.”
Frowning, she nibbled her lower lip. “Would you hurt me?”
“It will likely hurt some no matter how I do it,” he said frankly. “Your body has to adjust to the intrusion. But if I’m careful and you are willing, it should hurt only the first time, and we can stop as soon as it’s done.”
She drew a deep breath, expanding her breasts enticingly.
Feeling his cock stir again, Wat fought to ignore it.
She exhaled. “What must I do?” she asked.
His cock replied energetically.
Swallowing, Wat said as calmly as possible, “We’ll take off our clothes first. If we were taking our time, I’d undress you. But unless you need my help—”
“I don’t,” she said hastily, looking away. “I need only unlace my bodice, and the rest will come off easily.”
Wat swiftly disrobed himself, watching her as he did and marveling at the creamy smoothness of her skin and her enticing curves. Feeling tightness in his throat, he swallowed again and said, “Now, lie down on the bed and close your eyes. I’m less likely to hurt you if you can relax. Also, I can show you that some—perhaps even much—of this will be pleasant.”
Without hesitation, she turned and moved to the bed.
Knowing that he watched her stirred new feelings in Molly’s body. It was as if she could feel every nerve in it and could feel his gaze touching her bare skin.
The bed was waist high for her, but she hoisted herself onto it quickly and leaned back against the pillows piled at its head.
He had followed and now stood beside her. His gaze held hers as he pulled two of the pillows away, leaving one under her head. She dampened her lips.
“Scoot over a bit, lass,” he said rather hoarsely. “I want to sit beside you.”
Obeying, she kept her eyes on his face. His gaze was intense. His eyes seemed darker than ever, but she could not decipher his expression.
He said, “Shut your eyes now, and try not to think about what I might do.”
A near giggle, more of a chirp, escaped her lips. “You must be jesting,” she said. “How can I not think about that?”
He smiled. “Just close your eyes and be still. I do want you to feel what I’m doing and to think about nowt save those feelings. I’m going to touch you, to stroke you as I might stroke a kitten. It will be easier for you, I think, with your eyes shut.”
The thought of him stroking her like a kitten sent a wave of heat through her body that she could feel right to her cheeks. Licking her dry lips, she tried to relax but continued to watch him. Having seen her brothers’ cocks dangling softly when they stripped, she could not imagine how one could hurt her.
Hitching his left hip onto the bed, Wat put his left hand to her right shoulder and gently stroked down her arm as he watched her face. His broad, bare chest was well muscled with soft dark hair growing thicker in the center, then trailing lower until—Shocked at the rampant erection she saw then, she shifted her gaze swiftly back to his face.
His eyes twinkled. “I told you to close your eyes, but you needn’t fear me.” Sobering, he used two fingers of his right hand to stroke her left cheek. Then, so softly that she barely felt them, he touched one each to her eyelids.
Having little choice then, she shut them and realized with astonishment how sensuous his feather-light touch felt there.
The hand on her right arm had stilled, but it moved now to stroke her right eyebrow slowly from the end near her nose to the scar that touched its other end. Then he traced the scar into her hairline above her right ear.
The hand moved on, cupped her head briefly, and then stroked her hair. Enjoying the intense feelings that produced, she realized that his other hand was moving, first to stroke her left cheek and then to outline her left ear.
When he touched the ear’s inside curve, Molly felt a tingling sensation that flamed to the core of her body. She moaned.
So far, so good, Wat told himself, wishing he could control his own reactions as easily as he could stimulate Molly’s. His cock was clamoring to claim her.
Her lips parted invitingly, and he yearned to taste and savor them. Putting thought to action, he leaned slowly closer until his lips barely touched hers.
When her eyes flew open, he kissed her harder as he stretched out beside her, leaning on his left elbow, and purposely brushed his right forearm across her breasts as he did. Hearing her breath catch, he moved his hand lightly along the same course, teasing her nipples. Then, cupping her left breast, he tweaked its tip lightly between his thumb and forefinger as he eased his tongue gently between her lips.
She moaned again, and her body twitched as if it urged him to be less gentle.
“Doucely, lassie,” he cautioned. “Try to relax.”
Pushing his tongue away with her own, she muttered. “Would you relax if I did such things to you?”
He chuckled, but his body fairly leaped at that suggestion.
“Shhh,” he said, raising his left hand to tease the nipple on that side while his right hand moved more purposfully over her ribs and waist. “It won’t be long now.”
Her moan changed to a gasp when he cupped her between her legs.
Molly could hardly breathe. Never had she suspected that a man’s touch could stimulate such feelings in her body. That Wat could do so with little more than touching her eyelids, or the tip of a breast with his thumb, astonished her.
His hand between her legs was another matter.
Modesty stirred, only to vanish when that warm hand stroked her left thigh down to the knee. When he shifted it to her right knee and upward, she gasped again. Unfamiliar feelings coursed through her body, stirring heat and unexpected anticipation. Her legs spread of their own will. Did she want him to touch her there?
She realized with shock that she did. She ached for his touch. She pressed her lips together to keep from demanding it. What would he think of her if she did?
Watching her lips thin, then part, Wat knew she was as ready as she could be for what must come next. Without haste, he stroked the soft honey-bronze hair at the juncture of her legs, then stroked down the inside of one thigh and up the other again before gently inserting his middle finger into her moist sheath.
She stiffened with a kittenlike squeak.
“You’re ready,” he said quietly. “I’m going to take you now, lass.”
This time her moan revealed discomfort rather than passion.
His cock strained to accomplish its task, and heaven knew that he was as eager to conquer her as it was. But he had also made her a promise, and much as he’d like to tell the lads to wait, he could not. So, he eased the head of his cock into place, gritted his teeth, and focused as much on diverting her attention to her breasts and lips as he could, while he continued to press himself slowly, carefully in.
The urge to plunge in and take her with primal fierceness was strong.
When sh
e cried out, he pushed all the way in to be sure that he had taken her maidenhead and then carefully eased himself out. He realized he was panting just from the effort it had taken to control his urges.
“Is it done?” she asked, her eyes wide again.
“Aye, lass, it is,” he said, grateful to hear his normal voice rather than the hoarse grating he’d expected. “You’re no longer a maiden. There will be some blood, and that’s natural, but you’ll want a cloth to clean yourself.”
So saying, he got up and went to the washstand to fetch her a damp cloth.
His body was strongly protesting his decision, and his cock fairly shouted at him to grant it release. Ignoring its demands, he handed her the cloth.
She took it and sat up, eyeing him searchingly, even cautiously.
Recognizing her uncertainty and doubtless modesty, too, he turned back to the washstand and dampened a cloth for himself. His cock protested more while he cleaned it and more yet when he donned his breeks.
Quickly, he put on the rest of his clothes. Then, deciding that she had had enough time to herself, he said briskly, “I’ll take another kiss now, madam wife. Then I must be away, but see that you behave yourself whilst I’m gone. There must be no more dashing out into the woods.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said with a wary smile. “I do know that much.”
He bent, put two fingers to her chin, and kissed her gently on the lips. Then, turning, he strode to the door and unbolted it.
As he opened it, she said, “Walter?”
He turned back. “Aye?”
“Come home to me, sir. I want to learn more, much more.”
Grinning with delight, he said, “I’ll teach you all I know, Molly-lass. Then we’ll see what else we can discover to amuse us… together.”
She smiled, and he knew he would carry that smile with him until he returned to her. He had, he decided, made rather a good bargain.
Minutes later, he was in the saddle, his cock still throbbing in complaint of its bereavement. His ride would be uncomfortable for a while, but Molly was safe.
